We get direction

but nowhere to go
So should we start our way back home
Forget the things that we will never know
We get direction but nowhere to go
- Which Way To Kyffin


There was a dead silence for a while cos' I was a bit busy at work. Nothing special (that's life). Nothing to write.

The verse was taken from the new album of James Dean Bradfield. I found it sort of aphorism, at least for me.

Nice to have found a small oasis in my endless desert-like life (or deserted life). Manic Street Preachers were(are) never one of those most favourite uk bands like suede, blur or pulp in Hong Kong. Maybe their songs were too political and literature-related (this place is proud to be anti-politics and anti-intellect). Or just because they looked so morbid, anorexic, blood-thirsty or aids victim in the richey days and look too middle-age in the days after richey? That made my worship to the Manics in Hong Kong in a particular lonesome way. (Series of digression. Back to James' work). James' solo project is definitely one of my favourite this year. Lush arrangement and extremely melodic, it is the sound of the post-Richey Manics, but more sincere. The Great Western is the railway which links up London Paddington and the Wales. The whole album is James' own reflection about home and away, loss and growth. From tribute to the dear lost ones ("An English Gentleman", "Bad Boys and Painkillers") to the song for the exiles ("Emigre"), these are the pain of growth. Conclusion is yet to be found (or never can be found) ("Which Way to Kyffin").

The Great Western is also my favourite rail in UK, not picturesque as the route to the North, but it reminds me of the days in england, the times when I also lived in Paddington, boarding trains just for that same band.