DUBLIN - A HOLIDAY AT ACCIDENT AND EMERGENCY

Dublin’s an unmerciful bore. After 2 AM, every bar in the city is closed and the only thing moving with any purpose are taxis and ambulances. The taxis are making their way out of town to the suburbs but the ambulances are heading to the most macabre after-hours in the city: St. James’ Hospital A&E. 

IAN VERSUS KEVIN: HEAD TO HEAD ON SOFT FOCUS

 

Today VBS is re-showing a Soft Focus interview with My Bloody Valentine front man Kevin Shields because it's good and also to keep you up to date for fact-dropping at their performance at All Points West in New Jersey next weekend. In order to impress people you need to be the center of knowledge at the festival, not just by making Brian Wilson comparisons. Make sure to tell them that My Bloody Valentine is soon to release songs they've been working on since 1996 but that you have listened to Shields since 1988 straight out of the womb. They won't know which way is up.

EMILY DIAMOND

LONDON - THE ROLLERCOASTER PROJECT IS A REAL "RIDE" FOR BLOGGERS (GOD THAT WAS TERRIBLE)

The Rollercoaster Project is one of those musicians whose music makes bloggers want to spew out crap like this: Exploding starlight bounces round the womb shimmering on the unborn Martian eyelids and setting the first glimmers of thought buzzing through the synapses, flowing finally into the sea of comprehension. But the Rollercoaster Project's electronic drone is a lot better than any grotesque over-writing could ever suggest. Click through to hear the remarkable "Hoods Up." 

LONDON - BOATIN' WITH BOTTIN

William Bottin is one of the finest purveyors of electronic disco around right now. His tracks have a clear Italo influence, and he's actually Italian, which probably means he has more of a right or something. Even Andy Bell from Erasure likes him! We caught up with him for a quick chat. It would've been nice if it actually was on a boat, but it was just Gmail.

BLACKPOOL: LAS VEGAS OF THE NORTH

Meet Vickie and her vibe. Leo Leigh bought her from a gift shop in Blackpool, which is a seaside town in the Northwest of England. Every time I look at it I’m overcome with lust. I went to Blackpool with Leo in January 2009 to make a film called Blackpool: Las Vegas of the North, which you can watch on VBS this Wednesday! But to get yourself all excited, click through to see the trailer. 

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We know nothing about Kindness except that we love them. 

Last week I wrote about Lonnie’s Easter egg hunt. No one saw it because Vice is so hip they think things people spend an hour writing should only be visible to the web-viewing public for 1/4th that amount of time before being hidden away in the intraweb like the Ark of the Covenant in Indiana Jones. It is beyond annoying and boy does it motivate me to keep writing this bullshit.

But I do it for Lonnie. Because Lonnie is a bright shining star just waiting to be discovered. Or at the least, waiting for lunch. Then supper. Then breakfast. Then repeat.

Jiro, our friend, illustrator, and one half of Voodoo Village, claimed to be sick last week. We all thought he was just being a bit wet. But over the last six days he has accrued proof of his malady. By collecting (he debates that term) his mucus. We had an iChat conversation with him about it.

Ever since editing a piece about Dave Navarro swimming nude with dolphins in the Worst Issue Ever, I’ve always wondered what would it be like to rub my lithe, naked torso against the rubbery skin of the sea’s friendliest mammals. Last week I met a guy called Farik on a beach in Mauritius and he sold me a package tour that promised “Swimming with dolphins and barbecued lobster on an island,” so I signed up to it without thinking twice. Here’s what fucking happened.

Dear Vice,
I was stuck in the Madrid airport with a bunch of lonely weirdos when they closed it on Friday. Honestly I took this photo because of her shoes and not because she’s boycotting the tampon machine. Still, it acts as a prescient reminder that Katrina-style social collapse could happen anywhere. If women kept in wait for a plane start pulling out their vaginal accoutrements within the first hour, then its no surprise that a marooned city starts killing itself.

PAUL GEDDIS

LONDON - GET WITH THE KINDNESS

We know nothing about Kindness except that we love them. 

MEET THE NIERATKOS - LONNIE WON'T EAT SHIT

Last week I wrote about Lonnie’s Easter egg hunt. No one saw it because Vice is so hip they think things people spend an hour writing should only be visible to the web-viewing public for 1/4th that amount of time before being hidden away in the intraweb like the Ark of the Covenant in Indiana Jones. It is beyond annoying and boy does it motivate me to keep writing this bullshit.

But I do it for Lonnie. Because Lonnie is a bright shining star just waiting to be discovered. Or at the least, waiting for lunch. Then supper. Then breakfast. Then repeat.

LONDON - JIRO & HIS JAR

Jiro, our friend, illustrator, and one half of Voodoo Village, claimed to be sick last week. We all thought he was just being a bit wet. But over the last six days he has accrued proof of his malady. By collecting (he debates that term) his mucus. We had an iChat conversation with him about it.

LONDON - SWIMMING WITH DOLPHINS IS BULLSHIT

Ever since editing a piece about Dave Navarro swimming nude with dolphins in the Worst Issue Ever, I’ve always wondered what would it be like to rub my lithe, naked torso against the rubbery skin of the sea’s friendliest mammals. Last week I met a guy called Farik on a beach in Mauritius and he sold me a package tour that promised “Swimming with dolphins and barbecued lobster on an island,” so I signed up to it without thinking twice. Here’s what fucking happened.

DEAR VICE - AIRPORT HORROR

Dear Vice,
I was stuck in the Madrid airport with a bunch of lonely weirdos when they closed it on Friday. Honestly I took this photo because of her shoes and not because she’s boycotting the tampon machine. Still, it acts as a prescient reminder that Katrina-style social collapse could happen anywhere. If women kept in wait for a plane start pulling out their vaginal accoutrements within the first hour, then its no surprise that a marooned city starts killing itself.

PAUL GEDDIS