Bizzare Love Triangle: New Order split

In a spat that has turned slightly comical, Peter Hook has said he's left New Order and the band are no more. He's off to play bass for Perry Farrell from Jane's Addiction in new band Satellite Party. Hear the interview here.

The remaining duo, Bernard and Stephen have no such side projects and were relying on New Order Christmas gigs to fund their pension plan. After all, doing the recent ad for Indesit washing machines must mean things aren't all that rosy.

They've issued a statement, while Hooky keeps posting hilarious updates on his MySpace page.

“After 30 years in a band together we are very disappointed that Hooky has decided to go to the press and announce unilaterally that New Order have split up. We would have hoped that he could have approached us personally first. He does not speak for all the band, therefore we can only assume he no longer wants to be a part of New Order.”

The verdict? New Order are/were great but Hooky is ambitious and wants to do more. And who can blame him - he's always been at least 2638729 times more rock and roll than Bernard.

Jack Peñate, Jamie Woon: Live at the Institute of Contemporary Arts, London

There’s something strange about going to a gig at London’s plush Institute of Contemporary Arts. The first thing you see is a stack of modern-art postcards and a 4 foot pink Dalek with diamante breasts. Reporting to reception, the bohemian staff consult computers before allowing you to enter the building. It’s a million miles away from Camden’s scuzzy receptions, boiled ham bouncers and cloakroom assistants with eyes so vacant and yawns so big, there’s room for a jacket and bag in their faces alone.

But then, this ICA gig is part of the iTunes Festival – populated by competition winners, plaid-shirted scenesters and the media. And the frontboy from Mumm-Ra with a girl who had seemingly been dipped in chip fat just before the gig. Within weeks, each iTunes Festival gig is available as an official iTunes download - it's genius. Expect Michael Eavis and record labels to do the same at Glastonbury next year. Practically every day during July, everyone from Amy Winehouse to Paul McCartney is getting in on the act. On July 26th, it’s the turn of home-brew guitar hunk Jack Peñate and his crooning buddy Jamie Woon. Together, Jack looks like a cartoon lumberjack and Jamie, like Ryan Phillippe circa Cruel Intentions.

Jamie Woon comes from the same humble DIY beginnings as Jack Peñate but takes the home grown bedroom troubadour ethos to new levels by going completely solo. Yes, he’s another talented public schoolboy with an acoustic ambition but instead of flailing around the stage singing about LDN in educated cockney, Jamie sits on a black plastic chair with a box of tricks on his lap.

The box is drum machine, synth and sampler all in one. And just as you expect the set to begin with Jamie whining while his guitar gently weeps, the guitar sulks, stage right and Jamie starts beatboxing. Yes, beatboxing. Not like some kind of garage disco Dalek you understand, but slow, considered bass slaps and an occasional cymbal tap. Then they’re looped, layered and mixed with Jamie’s soulful voice and backing vocals which are sampled, looped and distorted to give the effect of a full gospel choir. It’s like listening to Stevie Wonder minus his piano in mono, then stereo with a world music CD playing in the background which features bongos and voices of whales. For all high street buskers who strum a tuneless guitar to a pan-pipe recreation of Celine Dion’s My Love Will Go On, Jamie is an inspiration.

The song collection veers from Jamie Cullum style ballads to freakish bluesy dubstep and a haunted, tribal remix of Wayfaring Stranger – a song Jamie picked up at American summer music camp, before deciding to do a slo-mo rinse and slinging his spooky beats all over it. And it works. As Jack thanks Jamie, he admits “my voice is a cornflake compared to his, which is like smooth chocolate”.

Jack takes to the stage, still high on his new single Torn on The Platform crashing in to the Top Ten this month. Bouncing around, swinging guitar and swearing like a trooper, Jack – after a year of playing to anyone that would listen - is now an official paid up member of the Why Don’t You? music club, currently chaired by Kate Nash but also featuring the likes of Kid Harpoon as stars in the making.

Ripping through tracks that make up the forthcoming album, there’s rarely a pause, except when Jack charges, slips, head butts his guitarist and falls on the floor. “I’m glad it’s a home crowd, I wouldn’t get away with that in Hull!”.

Spit at Stars is followed by live faves Learning Lines and Torn on The Platform but Have I Been a Fool? and We’ll Be Here get a great reception. A supersonic, punk version of Beats International hit Dub Be Good To Me is wedged in the middle of the set while Jack cautiously does the rap bits before retreating to his trademark guitar spasms. There’s a fixed grin permanently etched on his face. “Last time we played here, we had people up on the stage, that’s been spoiled by these” he says, looking at the barriers which prevent the communal stage jives of life before the Top Ten smash, before the NME cover and before the celebrity onlookers.

Then, after the hits, the jokes and the jubilant swearing, Jack runs off stage, guitar in hand and leaps into a cab headed to Hoxton to play a late night gig, preaching to another set of converted devotees.

Pics here, thanks to Will Rolls.

Maps, One Night Only, The Author live at The Borderline, London

The Author were the first band on stage. Hailed (by the BBC) as the “best band in Jersey”, the band arrived on stage with gaffa taped guitars and a lead singer who managed to look like a Cooper Temple Clause member and Gok Wan at the same time. We suspect the first thing he purchased on his trip to London was a haircut from Shoreditch. The Author desperately want success and they’ve hedged their bets well, stealing riffs from any band that have bothered the charts in the last year. One song manages to go from Bloc Party sparseness to rapid-fire Brianstorm esque Monkeys and then goes all Klaxons for the siren packed money shot. There’s lots of shouting and pointing but it all looks a bit desperate, like a band of pissed and angry cross dressing tramps. The Author plead with the nonplussed audience, claiming they used to live in London to gather support. Then they try to gloss over the fact that while Cock Wand (Gok Wan, whatever) was getting his hair done, the others clearly raided Top Shop on Oxford Street with the aid of an in-store StyleAdvisor. Even uber enthusiastic indie-Yoda Steve Lamacq decided to fuck off until the next band arrived.

Hear The Author’s great rock and roll swindling here

Next up were One Night Only from York. A mess of hair, twee guitars, synths and sad lyrics mixed with euphoric sounds. We like them a lot. They could have come from the 80’s and perhaps supported Deacon Blue had they been born in time. Managing to fuse piano and mid-song line dance shuffles with the kind of harmonies we’re used to hearing from The View, the few songs available on their MySpace are instant classics. The only downside is that Just For Tonight could be Jeremy Clarkson’s favourite new ‘driving’ anthem, but we’ll forget about that for the moment.

Hear One Night Only here

Mercury nominated Maps are a weird but beautiful bunch. The set is full of new tracks from their We Can Create album. Delicate synths get louder and louder, with airy and vacant vocals giving way to pounding drums. It’s like Air having eaten a kilo of skunk and stolen the drummer who does the live percussion for Amerie’s One Thing. Tonight, even with the smoking ban, there’s a wiff of Class B spliffage in the Borderline. Even without spliffage, the sound of Maps makes your brain float and wraps you in the sonic equivalent of one of those comfy silver anoraks marathon runners get at the end of a race. Tonight, with the backdrop of a jellyfish in space, everyone orbits with them. Even indie-yoda.

Get spliff, wear spliff, fly

One music festival you'll want to avoid

It's a festival of music based around ancient TV show Dallas, motorcycles, air balloons, monster trucks and a kids beauty contest. Yes, like the scary one in Little Miss Sunshine. But possibly involving Patrick Duffy as a judge.

We found this poster in the south of France - click to see the big version. We're assuming that Larry Hagman isn't really involved in any country dancing as the poor man can barely walk. If any of this makes any sense to anyone, please comment.

Kula Shaker add new instrument to 07 tour

Look at the size of it etc! Playing at the ICA this month as part of the iTunes Festival series of gigs, the born-again Kula Shaker line up features the original drummer who we previously shamed here and Crispian Mills. Crispian hasn't aged a day since 1997 and happily wears the same clothes too, meaning the pic below could easily be a new desktop image for XFM housewives.


Thanks to Mallinsons for helping us out with the pics

A real quote from Courtney's blog

From her official page

"my mouth still looks wonky, i think i gott go back to paris tot he dr, hes nit a cosmetic surgeon he just fixes bad surgery and also cleft palates and serious shit its nbot really vanity hes conservtive, wich we like, and this really isnt znyones business but im hating that id di that to my mouth back in the day and he didnt really take out enough the first time around i just wnt the mouth god gave me back, it was perfectly cute."

Importantly, she's making good music despite the mouth dilemma.

Courtney, may we suggest that you bin LA and move to London full time? You don't have to look like a tanned mutant, take drugs for breakfast and we have much better cosmetic surgeons. Plus, you can go on Jools Holland instead of rubbish American talk-shows.

God Put A Smile Upon Their Face

Posting on their official website, Coldplay have ceased recording tracks for their new album in London and headed to Spain admitting that they've binned most of their 25 tracks so far...and that tensions within the band have become rife.

But there is hope (via Jesus) as the post goes on to say Coldplay have spent time singing at the altars of churches in Barcelona, recording everything on a dictaphone in the hope that God may bless the troubled album.

Claims that the band fucked off to Spain because the UK is yet to have a summer and half the population are drowning due to climate change were described as 'unfounded'.

Still, we hope it all works out and the lads get back on form. Or produce something better than the following church/Coldplay related tie in. Ladies and gentlemen, we give you a performance of Yellow by the New Life Church Youth Group, New Milton...

Who's Lily slagged off today? Courtney Love!

There's few people who escape the wrath of Lily Allen but, despite the tantrums and insults, we have to admit that it only makes us like her that little bit more. She's young, you know, and updates her MySpace page at least three times per day...

The slimmed-out Courtney Love has been doing the rounds to promote her new album and Lily spent some quality time with her in an LA hotspot and said the following, according to The Sun.

"I am not best friends with Courtney, one night with her made me realise why Kurt killed himself. I nearly checked into rehab."

Ouch.

Glastonbury: "too respectable" says Eavis, offers mobile phone solution

Glastonbury founder Michael Eavis was the first to admit that Glastonbury 2007 was too “middle aged and respectable” last month. In a conscious effort to pump youth into the festival next year, more tickets will be offered via phone lines to bypass the hordes of IT consultants equipped with supersonic broadband connections. Will it work? Probably not. Perhaps a wiser strategy would be an online questionnaire asking simple questions like ‘do you prefer Face Book or MySpace?’ or ‘what’s the difference between CSS and DSS?’. If anyone suggests Face Book as an answer or claims to know what DSS means, then they’re not on the list.

It’s hard to escape the fact that the UK’s best loved music festival has become a tourist attraction, full of middle aged couples seeking that fabled Glastonbury Moment. They arrive armed with camping chairs, 10 megapixel cameras and ridiculously complex tents with built-in dining rooms. Then they set about creating a Glastonbury Moment which, in reality, means drinking pear cider at 11am, having a semi-pissed snuggle and crying along to Rufus Wainwright in the rain. It’s not going to be long before The Sun lists the places to obtain the best Glastonbury Moment, Cadbury create chocs to eat at the Glastonbury Moment and GMTV does a morning broadcast capturing Keith Chegwin’s Glastonbury Moment.

After a seven year break, I decided to revisit Glastonbury in 2005, excited by the prospect of new bands like The Boyfriends on the new John Peel stage which turned out to be the size of my garden. The bigger stages played host to James Blunt, Fatboy Slim and other acts I expected to avoid by not visiting Wembley Stadium at Christmas. Retiring to my tent, a stranger asked “have you seen my genie?” waving a lamp at me. “No, what does he look like?” I replied, gazing at his attempt to build a fire. “MC Hammerrrrr!” he said, before a security guard sprayed gunk on the fire and asked him to report to the ominous sounding ‘Central Office’ which I assumed was an Abu Girab style detention centre for people who started unauthorised fires or had lost their genies.

Half the fun of any music festival is being able to get drunk and run around like an excited child, dancing like nobody is watching, despite the hordes of BBC 3 cameras and camera phones. But I suspect the Glastonbury security guard who pissed on the fire (not literally) might take issue with that, enforcing a running speed restriction and detaining anyone suspected to be drunk.

Reading festival is the polar opposite of such demented restrictions. Older than Glastonbury, Reading festival has been entertaining rampant, angry, pissed up students since 1971 and it’s the only place left with a real rock n’ roll atmosphere. 50 Cent played for 20 minutes in 2004 before being attacked with bottles of piss and a camping chair, proving that Reading Festival, despite losing the ‘Reading Festival of Rock’ title years ago, is still the place to be when it comes to teenage anarchy. Camp overnight and the whole site turns into a giant frat party style idiot-riot and it’s a million miles away from the muck, middle agers and M&S picnic blankets at Glastonbury. This year at Reading festival, you’ll get to see the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Nine Inch Nails, The Kings of Leon and Eagles of Death Metal. James Blunt wouldn’t last 5 minutes.

Amerie, Mark Ronson and Mika with a porker

Channel 4's T4 music festival took place on the beach of Weston Super-Mare yesterday.

The residents of Weston-Super-Mare flocked to see Amerie shake her ass and Mark Ronson ponce about with hilariously shit Morrissey impersantor Daniel Merriweather on vocal duties. Mika sang some songs about having fun and liking fat girls. Best of all were Girls Aloud and Dizzee Rascal. But enough of that, look at this...


That's one of Amerie's dancers, having a thong malfunction...


That's Amerie's dancers, squatting in nappies and er, touching the sky.



That's Mika, singing about how fat people are beautiful, while dry humping a moose. Mika weighs 7 stone and actually likes men. If the people of Weston-Super-Mare had access to the internet and had known this in advance, Mika might have been sent to the local church, jail and then tortured by the mayor.


That's Daniel Merriweather who helps Mark Ronson cover Morrissey's Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before. He jumps around and does lot's of hip-hop gestures in a bid to jazz up Morrissey for the people who have mistaken him for Shakin' Stevens. Still, at least he's made an effort to wear a Morrissey style hearing aid, circa Top of The Pops, 1986.

Natasha Beddingfield was meant to speak about her performance, but instead decided to talk about recently holding hands with F1 hero Lewis Hamilton. She admitted that they shared a limo but denied any sex had occurred, while frantically wanking an invisible penis every time his name was mentioned.

Silversun Pickups at the 100 Club

If you don't know who the Silversun Pickups are, go and listen to their album Carnavas right now. They sound epic, emotional and blend the bed-wetting ballads of the Smashing Pumpkins with the diesel powered guitar fuzz of BRMC. They lead a brilliant new charge of LA bands, including Cold War Kids and Eastern Conference Champions.

The cramped 100 Club set on Oxford Street on 18th July was incredible, which isn't a word we use lightly around these parts. In fact, we'll go on record and say they're the best band to come out of America since The White Stripes. Woo....Put that on the billboard and smoke it.

Gig pictures here.

If you want to see a free, 200 capacity warm-up gig for Reading festival, click here.

We Start Fires: interview

Hello Becky, you’ve just finished filming a video – what track was it for and how does the track relate to the setting? Did it involve novel costumes and special hair colouring?

Yes! The track is called Let’s Get Our Hands Dirty. We dressed up as 80’s pop icons, inspired by David Bowie and Blondie! It was really good fun. We had lots of sequined jackets, heels and leopard print stuff on. We filmed it in a deserted warehouse in London and they got loads of glitter balls in. It took forever - we had to put make-up under our eyes to stop ourselves looking tired…

The band does a lot of fast, head shaking in the video for your last single Magazine. Your hair stays remarkably still – what product do you use?

We all like the Sunsilk hairspray.

Like Girls Aloud – the official Sunsilk girls!

Yes! Lots of hairspray is key. We did that video ourselves on the camcorder for £9.

Sticking on the topic of magazines, let’s talk NME. How long before you’re on the cover?

On the cover? Oooh, I don’t know. Give it some time – we still haven’t had a proper feature in there yet! Maybe next year. I don’t want it to go the way of the Melody Maker. It seems to be aimed at a younger audience now, I don’t want them to dumb it down.

Was making the new album easy – did you encounter any problems?

We got final copies back a couple of days ago actually, after mastering in March. I think it would’ve been easier if we had done it in one go, instead of going up to Hartlepool all the time to record. To be honest, the hardest thing was trying to find somewhere to flippin’ park and dodge traffic wardens! On the last day, we got a ticket! This evil woman didn’t believe that we were loading the drum kit from the studio. She thought we were horrible young people!

Ah, but were you on double yellow lines?

We were just outside the studio. It was ridiculous, she just didn’t believe we were loading and thought we were parking illegally…

What’s the best track on the album for you and why?

Let’s Get Our Hands Dirty, the new single, because we always seem to like the newest ones best.

Where do you most like to play gigs?

Sheffield. We always have really good gigs there. We love the Yorkshire folk.

What was the last song that you listened to?

Oooh, let me have a look. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs – Modern Romance, the last track on the album.

You’ve got one bloke in the band – does that cause issues when telling the rider to bring rosé and chocs rather than beer and Monster Munch?

No matter what we ask for, we generally get beer. Ash is always lovin’ it, but we try to give some back in return for Vodka…he always does well out of the riders.

You list Courtney Love as an influence on your website. Have you seen her new body shape – she’s lost three stone!

Fair dos if she wants to lose some weight. I bought a woman’s magazine to read about her and see the interview. It’s like ‘oh my God, this isn’t want you want Courtney to be saying!’. She said she wanted to lose weight to be more accepted in Hollywood. It’s a shame because people take the piss and slag her off but I think she’s a genius and she’s never got her dues.

What would you say to her if you had the chance and would you take her advice?

I’d probably just be really shy and scared. I might offer her some cake! I don’t think we’d ever be as drug addled as her, so I don’t think we’d need her advice!

Are you the most famous people from Darlington?

No, because apparently Vic Reeves is from Darlington!

He’s not famous anymore is he? He hasn’t been on TV since 1996…

We’ll he’s on TV more than we are! There’s been no famous musicians from Darlington though…

You’re headlining Camden’s Electric Ballroom on 13^th September. Are you nervous?

I’m quite excited actually. There’s certain venues which are legendary, like when we played King Tuts - playing the Ballroom feels a bit like that.

Hear We Start Fires here

Siouxsie Sioux isn't dead...

...it just looks that way in the photo, perhaps killed by Buffalo Bill from Silence of The Lambs judging by the insects. Happily, Siouxsie is very much alive and has made some new songs which you can listen to below.

We have more pictures, but they're slightly scary and could be perceived as erotic imagery by your HR department, so we've put them here.

1. Into A Swan
2. About To Happen
3. Here Comes That Day
4. Loveless
5. They Follow You

PC On The Radio!

Remember when you used to tape the whole of the charts onto a crusty, stinking Maxell metal cassette and listen to Bruno Brookes play Marky Mark and The Funky Bunch?
We do and despite the amount of official radio podcasts around, it's just not the same as doing it yourself. They've all got Jo Whiley and Chris Moyles gurgling over the live session broadcasts and constant AudioBranding - Zane Lowe is particularly good at that: "You're listening to the best, most awesome band on the planet. I'm Zane Lowe, I sound a bit like Tim Westwood having a shit while biting a straw - you're listening to Radio 1, we're the best because this is what we do 24/7 - only Radio 1 can do this stuff for you, the British public, dude, on Radio 1."

Anyway, with this gadget, you can record radio directly to MP3 and cut out the shit bits. Great for late night broadcasts or perhaps Radio 2 sessions that you like but don't want to stay in on a Saturday afternoon for. It's 40 quid and can be programmed in advance via your PC. So you can record a music festival while you're actually there, instead of asking mum to tape it on the telly which is - let's face it - always a bit hit and miss when she talks about watching The Red Stripes and DSS.

The Hives, covered by Microsoft exec...

There's no dignified way of explaining what happened this week when Microsoft held a big press conference in LA to show off new Xbox 360 games, so we'll just get straight in to it...

The suited monstrosity you see above is the chief marketing penis for Microsoft, Peter Moore. He announced a new game called Rock Band which ensures that the fat, slobbering and terminally anoraky Xbox massive can actually be 'in a band' without leaving their own faces encrusted habitat. Plug in plastic guitars, a mic and you'll never have to worry about wobbling on to the X Factor stage and listing your hobby as Xbox before doing a passable impression of a singing can of corned beef.

Brilliantly, to promote the game, Peter - in a particularly David Brent moment - decided to play the game, Fisher Price style, with a plastic guitar and a few assorted goblins - the team that actually made the game. There's a couple of virgins who look like they've spent a good few months wanking over a good few Dawson's Creek box sets and then there's the female lead singer. Less Karen O, more Beth Ditto fused with kids TV panto-villain Grotbags, she destroys The Hives' Main Offender with Peter on backing vocals. The girl shimmies like a glam sausage while Peter rocks back and forth like some kind of paper ghoul. The girl is called Helen. She has a MySpace page and a collection of rock photos to make even Johnny Borrell jealous.

Embarrassingly, the song (and game) pauses midway through as Peter (clearly an expert at this type of thing) manages to keep hitting the pause button, screaming "bring me back in, bring me back in!"

Shed Seven return!

Okay, so you know the drill now. We unearth some band that's reforming and take the piss and hope that they don't actually go on tour. Not strictly because we didn't like them originally (Kula Shaker we did love you) but because, well, it's a bit embarrassing. In some cases (Northen Uproar) we never liked the band in the first place.

This year, Shed Seven have decided to go on tour - at Christmas, naturally - in order to pay for the care home bills for their respective parents. We did like Shed Seven briefly, perhaps once in 1996, while we stared at girls dancing in a Devon indie disco. In fact, we remember meeting Rick Witter and his giant head and speaking with him for a magazine article of some kind. At the time, he looked like some kind of large baby cave-man and smelled slightly...

Anyway, the point is this - reunions don't often work. The trick is to not stop in the first place but, crucially, that involves writing decent songs constantly. You know, like The Rolling Stones. The recent pic of Shed Seven (above) has neatly copied The Verve's album cover for Urban Hymns, creating the ultimate in 1997 indie nostalgia! Perhaps they're hoping that you might actually mistake them for The Verve and that binge drinking in the Britpop years may have actually killed the part of your brain that detects good music and shit music. They've all matched The Verve photo well, apart from the bloke at the back, who's clearly rocking the podgy '96 Noel Gallagher chic, wondering why Andy Bell was asked to join Oasis rather than him. Fookin 'ave it, lads...

Snow Patrol: Drug Update (part 2)

We're not in the business of turning into Popbitch or owt, but we couldn't help but report that Tom from Snow Patrol (the fat, uglier one on the left) was off his tits (and on someone elses) at the Isle of Wight Festival last month. See the sorry event here. By the way, if anyone can find a pic of Tom where he isn't in shadow, to the side of the frame or hiding behind someone, you'll win a prize...

This week, however, Tom's actually been arrested and given a caution for possession, clearly taking a leaf out of the Keane book of band publicity. Snow Patrol also met with a hostile reception at T in The Park where a gaggle of crackheads from Glasgow pelted the band with all manner of fluids. It was like a mini Braveheart battle, only in slow motion with slightly shitter music.

In order to entertain the crowds, Spider-Man turned up and got the loudest cheers as he climbed scaffolding. Gary Lightbody was said to have wet his pants for the sixth time of the evening.

Death of a rock band - Live review: Ash at Koko, Camden

There’s a curious feeling as you enter Koko on Thursday 5^th July. This is, after all, the penultimate gig of the four night stand at Koko by Ash – a band releasing their ‘final’ album this month. Of course, Ash are set to release singles online after saying the album as a format is dead, but you can’t help imagining this as some kind of farewell fuck to nineties indie. The smoking ban unmasks the hideous blend of booze, bleach and sweat in Koko previously hidden by fags. In short, the gig resembles a funeral and smells like someone has actually died. When the spotlight falls on Ash, things don’t improve.

On stage, Ash as a three-piece look like a vacant triangle of flustered and frustrated musos, lacking Charlotte Hatherly and the famous machine gun guitar spunk that made them in the first place. Tim Wheeler stands at stage left, leaving the centre stage hollow, clutching his flying V guitar and remaining largely silent. He’s intent on giving the hardcore fans as many songs as possible. Cheers only come when classic tracks from the first album are played. When Ash arrived in 1996, they were younger than the Arctic Monkeys and, sadly, they’ve never been able to escape being youngsters in the heads of everyone. This is partly down to the fact that they refuse to dress in clothes made after ’96 and still behave like students and not rock stars. Striding across the stage instead of jumping around with mad, crazy, drug fuelled energy, Tim Wheeler looks like your dad in a tribute band. The cover of Teenage Kicks is as ironic as it gets, but Ash don’t get it. Still, it’ll go down well on the inevitable tour of University Balls over the next few years…

Pete & Kate: Over?

It's possible. The UK tabloids have gone into inky orgasm over a number of things which may or may not be true. Like Kate changing her door locks, hiring a minder and getting DHL to collect all of Pete's sweat soaked scarves and take them back to his pad in Hackney.

If it's true, it's sad but not really a bad thing for Pete to ditch the eternal groupie. Especially with his new book doing the rounds. But we're sure that's got nothing to do with it. Or the fact that the company doing PR for the book are desperately seeking coverage, despite Pete doing fuck all in the way of promotions - apart from turning up at an obscure book-seller in fancy dress...

To mark the occasion, here's a live review, some pictures we took before Pete put the drum-kit on our head and an amusing clip of Pete before Kate got hold of him...

Concert for Diana: The best and worst bits

Yesterday, approximately 70,000 people braved the possibility of a terrorist attack to visit Wembley stadium to see a Diana benefit concert. The audience consisted of aged coffee morning Conservatives with bosoms the size of nuclear weapons, gay men expecting Kylie to perform and young competition winners placed near the front of the stage to show that the youths still have love for the Royal Family. The highlights were few, but we watched the WHOLE thing, so you didn’t have to.

Stuff that made us laugh, cry and sometimes, slightly aroused…

Fergie miming and the camera panning away from her greasy chicken legs to make up for the MTM (mouth to mic) malfunction.

P Diddy, doing a Jacko by dressing in white, praising the Lord and invoking the spirit of Diana to the sound of hip hop while pretending he was a preacher and/or Jesus. He sang his Sting infused ode to Notorious BIG – who Princess Diana shared a great deal in common with.

Kanye West, showing P Diddy how it should be done. Prince Harry was over-heard saying that he “rocked the house” before asking his aide if it was time for a spliff.

Nelly Furtado – fuck Christina and Britney, we’ll take Nelly any day.

Joss Stone, coming over all American again but looking quite nice with no shoes on.

Prince Harry and William doing the Royal Jive, which is half Peter Crouch, half David Brent…

David Brent (Ricky Gervais) running out of jokes after two minutes, after cutting his traditional gags about disabled people, cancer and sex. The previously sedate crowd excitedly chanted “dance! dance!” after too many Pimms, forcing the rubber-faced chubster to dance like he did in that episode of The Office. Curiously, he knew the exact routine…

Kate Middleton, nicer than Chelsea, who is to Harry what a Chihuahua is to Paris Hilton.

Tom Jones covering Arctic Monkeys, then a Joss duet with Joss singing louder than Tom.

The giant gaps between songs, with helicopter cameras exposing Wembley as a kind of Total Recall esque industrial wasteland with a hotel, a Land of Leather and a giant sand pit.

1.