Sweet Nothings

The Artist was a disappointment from the off when I discovered that it wasn't the long hoped-for  Kevin Painter biopic . My heart didn't exactly race when I learnt it was also going to be black'n'white'n'silent, but what with all the rapturous reviews I was always likely to go see it, even though I suspected deep down that it wasn't going to be for me. This has nothing to do with being contrary for the sake of it (for once). The film is lovingly crafted and deserves all the baubles it has been and will be receiving. However I am simply a fan of words, and to me a film sans dialogue seems a waste. I know all the counter-arguments - film is a visual medium, creativity is as much in the direction as in acting and dialogue, yadda yadda - and of course you'd be right. But from a sheer bloody-minded, personal perspective, words and dialogue are all. For example, I actually listen to the lyrical content of songs. The very act of making such a statement se

It's now 2012, but because I started writing this end-of-year listathon a few days ago it still counts as the final post of 2011, right? Away we go. Best album My favourite was PJ Harvey's Let England Shake , I'm afraid, just like everyone else's. Sometimes the obvious choice is obvious for a reason. One of those landmark, state-of-the-nation type records Best gig The Manic Street Preachers nearly stole this at the death with their December shindig at the O2 (all 38 singles in one night!), but an even more triumphal atmosphere was to be found at the reformed  Suede 's Brixton gigs. I paid a hefty sum for the privilege of seeing the Dog Man Star one after not being able to get rid of my spare ticket, but I'd have happily broken the bank to see one of my favourite albums, brilliantly delivered. Loved the way they didn't have to say a word to the crowd as we were all so pumped, and wish I'd seen the other gigs too. Most erroneous lyrics "I&#