Well done. You’ve sorted through the embarrassment of riches that is the modern podcast landscape and found me, Rob Brydon, on my podcast. In this season of Brydon &, I talk to, among others: Harry Hill, Ben Elton, Julia Davis, Steve Coogan and Dame Harriet Walter. It’s terrific conversation, full of anecdotes and reminiscence where appropriate.
– Rob Brydon
Rob is joined by actor, comedian and impressionist Morgana Robinson to discuss her role in Stuck, the new BBC show written by Black Books’ Dylan Moran. Morgana also talks about being discouraged from pursuing an acting career, reveals her favourite celebrities to impersonate, and unleashes her childhood party trick.
To listen to the full audio interview on the Brydon & podcast, The Hobbledehoy reluctantly suggests Spotify
Following the sudden death of Sinead O’Connor, you would think that The Grammy Awards would have posted a tribute to the singer’s legendary performance from their 1989 televised broadcast. Thus far, they haven’t – probably because the Grammys never fail to suck. While there’s no mention of Sinead on the Grammy’s official website, there is, however, a video titled “Watch Catie Turner Reveal The One Fruit She Must Have On Her Tour Rider | Herbal Tea & White Sofas”
Right.
Comedian Billy Crystal hosted the 31st Annual Grammy Awards show in 1989, and it was he who introduced the 21-year-old Sinead as “no ordinary talent.” True, she was not ordinary. She was nothing short of magnificent.
Below is a clip of Sinead O’Connor, with her shaved head, wearing combat boots, a black halter top, and baggy ripped jeans, performing her song Mandinka.
Journalist Annie Zaleski remembers
“As the churning guitars to “Mandinka” start, O’Connor strides out from backstage, looking a bit nervous as she gets her bearings. When she starts singing, however, any hint of hesitancy falls away. Lithe and confident, O’Connor shimmies to the side and spins her torso in time to the music, immediately in a focused groove. She pours her heart into the soaring pre-choruses, singing lines like “I don’t know no shame / I feel no pain / I can’t” with her eyes closed in concentration. And by the time she reaches the sky-scraping chorus (“I do know Mandinka”), she stares straight ahead at the audience, stomping her feet in time to the buoyant beats in a burst of nervous energy. Throughout the performance, she radiates contentment; in fact, her joy is infectious. Even though she’s alone, there’s an intimacy to her delivery that’s deeply moving.” – Annie Zaleski for The Daily Beast 7/29/2023
Singer/Songwriter Fiona Apple remembers
One of the millions who watched was singer Fiona Apple, who posted this wonderful appreciation to YouTube, several years ago.
Singer Fiona Apple watching the legendary Grammy performance. Ms. Apple herself withdrew from the public eye after calling the trappings of fame “bullshit” at the 1997 MTV Video Music Awards.
Phoebe Bridgers
“When I heard she died I was heartbroken. It reminded me of that one year, 2016, when everyone was dying, like Leonard Cohen and David Bowie. I thought, “There’s a hero I won’t meet.” When Sinéad died, it hit me the same way.” – Phoebe Bridgers | Continue at Rolling Stone
Covid, court, bereavement: although the PiL man’s new album could not have been made against a worse backdrop, his glass of non-alcoholic cider remains half full
By Lee Campbell
There’s a term for people that live in Malibu – they’re called Malubians,” claims a cackling John Lydon. “It sounds like something that has to be cut off at an early age.” The artist formerly known, in his Sex Pistols days, as Johnny Rotten is speaking from his California home and seems ecstatic that we can hear and see each other on our Zoom call. “I am so fucked up with technology,” he laughs. “I’m as blind as a bat.”
Lydon, 67, is looking well, though, decked out in green specs and matching pullover, with his signature vertiginous hair teased into a quiff. The well-worn jumper was a gift from a fan “in either Bradford, Barnsley or Bolton; one of them”, who asked for it to be passed on to his late wife, Nora Forster. “It was very sweet. She can’t wear it now, so I wear it. It’s not about the monetary value, it’s the thought – that’s priceless.” His love for his fanbase feels completely genuine. On the wall behind him are a Samurai sword and an Afghan dagger given to him by diehards when his band Public Image Ltd (PiL) played behind the iron curtain decades ago.
Next month, PiL will release End of World, their first album in eight years. The promotion for it, along with preparation for an accompanying tour this autumn, has come in the midst of profound grief for Lydon after the death in April of Forster, his wife of 44 years. “It hurts so deeply,” he says. “It’s hard to get to grips with but I don’t want to let her down. That’s not healthy for me, or her, or her memories. So, I am gonna try and throw myself into working – as far as I could throw myself, considering my weight,” he adds with a laugh.“It’s an uphill climb, but I’ve got to get there. I’ve got to find myself again, because in all of this you can’t end up losing yourself.”
John Lydon … ‘You never get a chance to sort yourself out before some new inflammation turns up, like a boil on the bum!’
Photograph: Dylan Coulter/The Guardian
Sadly, some online trolls, described by Lydon as “savage kittens”, have mocked his suffering. He cites one particular comment along the lines of, “Well, that’s what you get for marrying an older woman.” But this low form of viciousness just seems to bounce off him. “Funnily enough, whatever they meant by that, I found it heartwarming. That’s my nature, to make the best of a thing, not the worst.”
As much as he may be a glass-half-full type, Lydon has never been afraid of being candid about his shortcomings. Take his account of his recent struggles with alcohol. “I went through a rough time and gained some weight,” he says while nursing an alcohol-free cider. “Don’t look for clarification in claret. There isn’t any.”
