NME

Yesterday

Julie Burchill

How I learnt to stop worrying and love pessimism

From our UK edition

I was on friendly terms with Rod Liddle for quite a few decades. He applied for the job I got when I was 17 at the New Musical Express, which kicked off my writing career. Though I wouldn’t claim we were bezzie mates, we had a lot of the same friends and we met up in a couple of group lunches and had a laugh. So I was surprised at my lack of grief when he died. (Apparently he too was remarkably sanguine about his ending.) My overwhelming feeling was: ‘Good for Rod – he escaped!’ It’s the first time I can recall feeling that way about the premature death of someone I knew a bit and liked a lot. Why, I wondered, did I react like this?

Wednesday

Michael Hann

Virgin on the astonishing: Madonna, at The O2, reviewed

From our UK edition

When I was a kid listening obsessively to AC/DC and Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath, I despaired of music writers. How come none of them – except the staff of Kerrang! magazine and a couple of writers on Sounds – could see the majesty and splendour of this music? Why were they always banging on about flipping Echo and the Bunnymen and Joy Division, or harking back to old man Dylan? These days, all three of those bands are to some degree or another as revered. Not everyone loves them, but you won’t find many serious critics – even those who don’t personally care for ‘Whole Lotta Rosie’, ‘The Number of the Beast’ or ‘War Pigs’ – who’ll simply write them off as worthless. ‘A wandering worthless exercise’, wrote NME of Madonna’s Like a Virgin.