| 10
JANUARY 2007
"Leg-cure
boots
And whitch scosky
Are outing me drag
From a pad batch.
Don't well the tife
That I'm listening to
Old boot-cure Legs
And whinkying the drisk!"
That poem and the following passage are from T.Meffort's "A Cricketing
Suicide" (Methuen 1958), which i quote here not only because it
is about Christmas but also because i can't possibly justify writing
this crap myself anymore.
"Christmas Eve, Monday January 3rd 1915, Officer's Trench A505,
Somme, France.
Morale good after a muddy game of cricket, officers v men. I got 23
before retiring so we could all have a bat. Ian Botham, a young grenadier
from Somerset, is an exciting all rounder who can swing it both ways
bowling and has a splendid eye with the bat. He bounced me and I let
it hit my head but alas woke up shortly after, blood reddening my vision.
Got sent to sick-bay unnecessarily. Didn't enjoy warmth, comfort or
delicious french nurses because felt didn't deserve it and spent entire
time trying to find medicine cupboard to take overdose of morphine.
Only found something called Pangeline colorific which made my feet swell
up and burst my boots later when back in trench. Nice dinner : chicken
and leek pie with potatoes gratin, red cabbage and sautéed courgettes.
Conditions may be awful here but it's France so food v.g. once a week
at least for us officers. As usual ended day staring alternately at
gun, photo of wife, sleeping faces of comrades, my thoughts proceeding
from "I must do it" via "Think of her tears, the mess,
their anger" to "I can no more do this than I can do anything:
I am a failing human being! Woe is me!" Didn't sleep. Thoughts
ran wildly between horror of war to "At least it's better than
being at home fearing life and with no reason to live".
Christmas Day.
Unlike last year fighting raged. I got 2 Huns in the head which was
nice. We took about 20 yards from them. Shook hands at the end of it.
With each other I mean not with the Hun. Took a few prisoners. Tried
to teach them elements of cricket. One chap plays German game called
Knockwürst a bit like rounders so grasped leg-spin technique qu.
well. We have an Irish lad called Sean Wayne who is a beautiful leg-breaker,
he can even manage the odd googly. Roll on summer!
Boxing Day.
No fighting again like Christmas day, a bore. We gave each other presents
from yesterday's meagre loot. I got an interesting looking tin box,
something electrical, with the letters "MXR Flänger"
on it. Asked German prisoner what it was, he put his hands on his ears
and swished his head about. God knows what that meant. Anyway it's a
nice souvenir. Clever lot those Germans when it comes to electricals.
Another chap got a device for shaving called a "Braun haarenschnitt".
I met a girl called Braun once, in Berlin. She claimed she was going
to keep the resulting spawn and call it Meffort "To remain me off
you for eva" she said. "You mean remind. What if it's a girl,"
I asked. "You can't call a girl 'Meffort'."
"Wenn it iss a gul I call him what iss mein favorit English namen,
Gordon." I hadn't heart to tell her Gordon also male name, and
scotch into the bargain.
OCTOBER
24 2006:
DARLING,
AS USUAL, APPLE CUT AND APPLE V THIS WHOLE LOVING ORDURE RIGHT UP ONTO
THE READY LAP OF OUR DELICIOUS WEBOIR, OUR WEMBRE, OUR WEBROTHEL, OUR
WEOUNGE, OUR WEBDRAWING ROOM, OUR INTERSNUG, OUR E-BILLIARDS ROOM, OUR
ONLINE BATHA
SPIDER LITERALLY RUNS BACK AND FORTH THE SAVED ENVELOPES AS I WRITE,
HERE IN THE COUNTRY OFFICE WHERE ONCE DID THAT NOT WHICH UNTO THOSE
MEMORIES OH SAVE OH SPARE OH REBUKE AND CHASTIZE NOT UNTO THEM, BE MERCIFUL,
BE QUOTH, BE QUINCY, BE CAGNEY AND LACEY UNTO THEM, NOT UNKIND OH LORD,
WHY LORD, WHY WHY , WHY!
NO BUT SERIOUSLY : HESBOLLAH, REALLY! I WAS SHOCKED TO READ IN THE SPECTATOR
THAT THEY DROWN GLIS GLIS AND CHUCK THEM IN THE BIN. NOT ME MATE : I
WALKED MY PRISONER ALL THE WAY DOWN TO THE CENTRE OF TRING PARK AND
LET HIM GO ! SAYING, IN ARAB "DON'T RUN UP MY TROUSER LEGS EITHER!"
DON'T LISTEN TO KOOL KEITH WITH A CLOSE FAMILY MEMBER EVEN IF YOU ARE
IN A VOLVO EXPERIENCING THE BEST SOUND EXPERIENCE AVAILABLE TO MAN (VOLVO-OWNING-PARENTS'
SONS & DAUGHTERS PLEASE LISTEN TO THIS WEEK'S GODSEND : SNEAK IN
THERE AT NIGHT WHEN YOUR DAD'S AWAY IN THE GULF TRYING TO REPAIR THE
AFTERMATH OF SADDAM'S WOGAN EPISODE WITHOUT THE A TEAM BECAUSE OF COURSE
THE A TEAM ARE MERCENARIES AND WHEN I CATCH UP TO THEM I WILL THROW
THEM IN WITH BILL BIXBY, RICHARD THE FUGITIVE KIMBLE AND DOCTOR DAVID
BANNER. PIANO TRAIL : LEAD OUT INTO THE 6 P.M. NEWS : "P.I.L'S
'ALBUM' REALLY BRINGS THE BEST OUT OF YOUR VOLVO, WITH ALL THE HIGHS
AND LOWS OF THE REALLY GREAT ROOMVERB DRUMSOUND WHICH IS THE LATEST
ADDITION TO THE EVER GROWING RANGE OF THIS TYPE OF THING NEW BBC SEQUENCING
MICROS". ITEM : DON'T MAKE THE MISTAKE I MADE. DON'T GO AND SEE
'THE HISTORY BOYS' THINKING "IT CAN'T BE AS BAD AS IT LOOKS. IT
MUST BE BRILLIANT". UNCLE MONTY DID NOT SAVE IT, IT DRAGGED UNCLE
MONTY DOWN DEEP INTO THE MURK WITH IT AND DROWNED HIM. BENNETT : NOT
SINCE BURROUGHS HAVE WE HETEROSEXUAL CONSERVATIVES BEEN POISONED BY
SUCH A HOMOEROTIC FANTASY PARADED LIKE DIRTY WASHING AS ART! AN APOLOGY
FOR PAEDOPHILE SEXUAL ABUSE IN SCHOOLS BY TEACHERS! WAS "THE HEADMASTER
RITUAL" IN VAIN? WERE ALL OUR RAPES IN VAIN? GOOGLE BENNETT HOMO
APOLOGY SEX FANTASY. GOOGLE IT NOW BUT NOT ON MY WATCH, NOT IN MY BACKYARD,
NOT IN MY VOLVO! WHY YOU POOVING SWINES! THE BOTTOMLESS SEAT I SANK
INTO EYES CLOSED WAS NOT DEEP ENOUGH NOR FAR ENOUGH AWAY FROM THE FAECES
AND TERRORISM ON THE SCREEN. I SWEATED BUCKETS, I SWEATED COBS, I SWEATED
A ROSARY OF PURE GYMCRACK BUT COULD NOT AVOID THOSE STINGING CRAP DIALOGUES
SPAKE IN FOOTLITE NORTHERNE. BENNETT : YOU SHOULD BE SHAT ON BY EEYORE.
UNLESS THE SCREENWRITER DONE IT IN WHICH CASE I RETRACT THIS WITHDRAWAL
MOST SURRENDINGLY. JUST PLEASE EVERYONE DON'T MAKE THE MISTAKE I MADE
: DON'T SEE THE HISTORY BOYS FOR GOD'S SAKE! NOTHING WRONG WITH A BIT
OF FOUL PLAY BETWEEN LADS OF COURSE. I'M PRO ANYTHING AGAINST ALLAH.
IF ALLAH SAYS A LADDY SHOULDST NOT SLEEP UNTO A NOTHER LADDIE I AM COMPLETELY
UP FOR NO AMOUNT OF HARD BOY RAPE THROUGH THE AGES. I'M WONDERING IF
WE WETSERNERS WOULD STAND UP FOR OUR BELIEFS IN A HARD WAY THE MUSLIMS
WOULD IN FACT REPECT US AT LAST INSTEAD OF WANTING US TO BE DESTROYED.
I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT THE NIQAB OF COURSE, WHICH PERSONALLY I HAVE ALWAYS
BEEN ADVOCATING FOR WOMEN SINCE THE MINISKIRT AND THE PILL AND THE DARK
ALLEY AND THE BOTTLE OF ALE. BUT THAT'S JUST NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN BECAUSE
WE ARE IN DECLINE, WE ARE DECADENT. I SAY "WE" BECAUSE I FIND
RELUCTANTLY THAT I AM ALSO DECADENT AND I CANNOT STAND UP FOR MY BELIEFS
BECAUSE THEY ARE SHAKABLE. THE PROBLEM WITH THE LIBERAL CONSTITUTION
IS THAT IT ISN'T WRITTEN DOWN. "IT CLEARLY STATES IN THE OBSERVER
MAGAZINE THAT WE MUST NOT TAKE ANOTHER PERSON'S LIFE UNLESS THEY ARE
A PAK I MEAN A MOSLEM". "THERE ARE MANY DIFFERENT INTERPRETATIONS
OF THE OBSERVER MAGAZINE AND IT IS UP TO EACH OBSERVER MAGAZINIAN TO
DO WHAT IS RIGHT ACCORDING TO HIS OR HER INTERPRETATION OF THE TEACHINGS
BUT ONE THING IS CLEARLY STATED IN THE OBSERVER MAGAZINE AND THAT IS
NUCLEAR BOMB ONTO THE MIDDLE EAST LET'S START AGAIN FROM A NEW GARDEN
OF EDEN IN SOPHISTICATED SWEDEN WHERE ARYAN BREEDIN AND TOP QUALITY
FEEDIN WILL HASTEN EVOLUTION PROCEEDIN." THERE WILL NEVER BE AGREEMENT
BETWEEN THE SECULAR WEST AND THE RELIGIOUS EAST. ONE IS DECADENT, ONE
IS DOGMATIC. A MUSLIM WILL NEVER ACCEPT THE PHILOSOPHY AT THE CORE OF
WESTERN ATTITUDE. THERE IS NO LONGER ALLAH OVER HERE, THERE IS ONLY
MONEY AND AN ELUSIVE BUT PROTECTED VALUE OF DECENCY TO FELLOW, A TYPE
OF CHRISTIANITY WITHOUT CHRIST (HAZEL MOTES IN "WISE BLOOD"
SACRIFICED HIMSELF TO THE FUTILITY OF MANKIND'S ATTEMPT TO ESTABLISH
A DOGMA-FREE, RELIGION-FREE MORAL CODE OF GOODNESS. HUMANS IS MOTHERFUCKERS
MANG : HUMANS WANT TO SHIT AND DEFECATE EACH OTHER WITH KNIVES!!) YOUR
COMMON OR GARDEN MODERN WESTERNER WILL NOT CONDONE THE PUNISHMENT OF
ANOTHER HUMAN FOR THEIR BELIEFS BUT THE MUSLIM OPPOSES THIS AND THERE
CAN BE NO CONCESSION. I WILL NOT OBEY ANYONE WHO TELLS ME WHAT TO DO
IF HE OR SHE CONDONES HONOUR KILLINGS OR THE KILLING OF A PERSON BECAUSE
OF THEIR ETHNICITY. MOST OF YOUR COMMON OR GARDEN WESTERNERS THINK THIS
WAY. THEY CAN'T AGREE WITH DOGMATIC BEHAVIOUR OR A BELIEF SYSTEM WHICH
BASES ITSLEF UPON HOSTILITY TO OTHER. THEY CAN'T ACCEPT MURDER FOR RELIGIOUS
PRINCIPLES OR FAMILY VALUES. BUT THIS IS A SIGN OF THE WESTERNER'S DECADENCE.
THE WESTERNER DOESN'T HAVE STANDARDS, THE WESTERNER LETS IMMORALITY
GO BY. THAT'S NOT A SKIRT IT'S A BELT SAYS DAD BUT HE CAN'T STOP HER
GOING OUT. THE FAMILY HAS DISINTEGRATED AND SOME INDICATE MORAL DECAY
THERE. THE WORLD IS GOING TO SHIT AND AMERICA IS ON TOP SO IT FOLLOWS
THAT THE WESTERN WAY IS THE WRONG WAY.MORAL BANCRUPTCY. WHERE IS YOUR
DAUGHTER TONIGHT ? SHE IS SMOKING REEFER WITH BOYS TWICE HER AGE! SHE
IS LISTENING TO LYRICS LIKE THIS : "WAKE ME UP BEFORE YOU GO-GO,
DON'T LEAVE ME HANGING AROUND LIKE
A YO-YO, WAKE ME UP BEFORE YOU GO-GO, TAKE ME DANCING TONIGHT"
WHERE "DANCING" IS A EUPHEMISM FOR ANAL SEX! OR THIS : "TONIGHT'S
THE NIGHT ; I (ROD STEWART) AM GOING TO MAKE IT RIGHT ; YOU ARE A VIRGIN
BUT I AM GOING TO REMOVE YOUR VIRGINITY ONTO MY MULLET AND PARADE IT
UP AND DOWN THE CHURCH !" OR THIS : "ALL NIGHT LONG, ALL NIGHT;
ALL NIGHT; ALL NIGHT LONG, ALL NIGHT; ALL NIGHT" ETC. NO DON'T
LAUGH I'M BEING SERIOUS. WHAT ABOUT BOY SCOUT PRINCIPLES AND THE NOT
HOLDING OF HANDS UNTIL DATE 7? WHAT ABOUT THE SEGREGATION OF LITTLE
BOYS AND GIRLS? WHY ARE THEY SEGREGATED? ) BECAUSE HIS LYRICS WILL REALLY
MAKE YOU BLUSH, "FUCK YOU MOTHERFUCKER" EVERY OTHER LINE.
BUT IN THE VOLVO CAST OUT YOUR DAD'S 1998 MOODY BLUES COMPILATION WITH
THE ORCHESTRAL REMIXES AND IMPORT P.I.L.'S ALBUM. THE ROOMY DRUM SOUND
IS WHERE IT'S AT, DROP THAT ON IRAQ ALREADY! NUCULAR WAR NOW! I'M HOPING
IT'S TOO LONG FOR ANYONE TO READ IT. IT'S BASED ON THE SPECTATOR WHERE
THEY SAY THE CRAZIEST JUVENILE THINGS.
APRIL
2ND 1980:
I GOT UP AND HAD BREAKFAST. I WENT ON MY BIKE WHEN SUDDENLY THERE WAS
A MAN WHO LOOKED JJUST LIKE FRANKENSTEIN GOING DOWN THE PATH FROM ANGLEFIELD
ROAD TO THE MAIN ROAD UP TO SHOOTER'S WAY. IT IS CALLED SHOOTER'S WAY
BECAUSE DAD TOLD ME THAT THERE ARE A LOT OF MEN AND LADIES UP THERE
SHOOTING GEAR, THE WOMEN DOING IT FOR MONEY WITH THE MEN I MEAN MAKING
LOVE AND THEN THEY SPEND THE MONEY ON THE GEAR. I CYCLED DOWN NEARLY
AS FAR AS BERKHAMSTEAD BUT I FELL OFF MY BIKE AND CUT MY KNEE OPEN.
YOU COULD SEE A TUBE IN MY KNEE. I CRIED AND PISSED ALL OVER MYSELF
IN ABJECT HYSTERICAL MISERY. I TOOK IT OUT ON MY ACTION MAN BY MELTING
HIS EYES WITH A MAGNIFYING GLASS IN THE SUNBEAM. HE HAS EAGLE EYES WHICH
CAN BE MOVED LEFT AND RIGHT TO MAKE HIM LOOK ALERT. MY NANNY, MISS CALF,
SAID "WHAT AN ENIGMATIC SMILE HE HAS BENEDICT. SO CALM. I WONDER
HOW HE GOT THAT SCAR ON HIS CHEEK, DO YOU? I EXPECT HE WAS FENCING WITH
ANOTHER ACTION MAN AND THEY GOT A LITTLE OUT OF CONTROL WITH THE EXCITEMENT
OF IT. SLASH SLASH AND ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER DOESN'T IT BENEDICT."
SHE HAD A LITE SCOTTISH ACCENT. I WAS ONLY 6 BUT SHE WAS A FICKIN WEE
RIDE BUT, SHE WAS PURE BRILLIANT BY THE WAY, SHE WAS FUCKIN BRAND NEW.
THAT PART'S MADE UP. WE USED TO HAVE TO WRITE A DIARY IN THE HOLIDAYS
DIDN'T WE OLD BOY. I ALWAYS GOT HIGH PRAISE BECAUSE I WAS A TRUTH-DRUG
SUCK-UP-TO-TEACHER EGOMANIAC EVEN AT THAT AGE. I DID THIS, I DID THAT
... A BORN BLOODY DIARIST... IF YOU EVER READ SIMON BRETT'S ANTHOLOGY
OF DIARY ENTRIES YOU'LL SEE WHAT A DEPRESSED SELF-OBSESSED LOT WE DIARISTS
ARE. BLOODY MISERABLE LOAD OF ENGLISH TOSSERS. AWESOME BOOK THOUGH,
LOVELY. ASHMOLE, WHOSE COLLECTION BECAME THE ASHMOLEAN MUSEUM IN OXFORD,
HAS GOT MANY ENTRIES IN THERE (IT GOES CHRONOLOGICAL, DAY BY DAY, THROUGH
A YEAR, LEAPING ACCROSS THE CENTURIES) : 26 AUGUST 1684 : "BEING
HARD BOUND, I WAS TWO HOURS BEFORE I COULD GO TO STOOL, AND THEN WITH
EXCEEDING TROUBLE". THAT'S EASILY HIS LONGEST ENTRY. "I FELL
INTO A LOOSENESS, WHICH CONTINUED FOR TWO DAYS" WAS 19 AUG. 8 AUG
WAS JJUST "I PURGED", 9TH "I TOOK LEECHES", THEN
10TH WAS "I PURGED AGAIN". 12 AUGUST : "I APPLIED A PLASTER
TO IT". DINNER WAS LIVER AND SAUSAGE. MAM SAID THEM CONTINENTALS
ARE LITTLE MONKEYS. OVER. DURING THE AFTERNOON I MADE A SET-UP WITH
MY SOLDIERS ON THE ROCKERY. THE GHURKAS WERE CREEPING UP ON THE GERMANS
WHO WERE TALL AND BLUE. THE ONE THROWING THE LONG HAND GRENADE WITH
THE CYLINDRICAL SHELL WAS VERY DYNAMIC, HIS COAT-TAILS SWISHING, HIS
STANCE OF A CRICKETER; THE GHURKAS WERE SLIGHT, BETTER DETAILED AND
MOSTLY CREEPING ABOUT ON THEIR BELLIES WITH KNIVES. I SAW ONE CUT A
CHAP'S HEAD OFF AT EARL'S COURT. HE DESERVED IT : HE'D CALLED THE GHURKA
A PAKI. I TURNED ON THE TELLY TO WATCH THE TEST MATCH. IT WAS 1987.
ABDUL QADIR WAS BOWLING. HEWAS BEFORE WARNE AND MURALITHARAN BUT HE
WAS A MOZART LIKE THEM, A REAL PHYSICAL MAGICIAN. THE BALL WAS INSPIRED
BY HIS HAND. I MEAN HIS HAND BREATHED LIFE INTO THE BALL SO IT ACTED
LIKE A FUCKING SPRITE WHEN IT LEFT HIS HAND, HOVERED THROUGH THE AIR
TOWARDS THE BATSMAN AND EXPLODED OFF THE DECK IN THE WRONG DIRECTION.
I'M NOT SURE IF OUR SPLENDID HERO MONTY HAS THE FLIGHT TO BE A KILLER
ON THE QADIR/WARNE/MURALI LEVEL, HE'S A BIT FLATTER, BUT HIS CONSISTENCY
COULD WIN ENGLAND MATCHES. GET RID OF PIETERSEN THE DUTCH AFRIKANA AND
OUT-OF-FORM TRESCOTHICK AND GET ONE MORE SUBCONTINENTAL IN, YOU'VE GOT
A PALATABLE ENGLAND SIDE WORTH CHEERING FOR. THE OLD ATTITUDE MIGHT
JUST DIE OUT. BOTHAM YOU FAT FUCK. TELLY BASTARD.
28
MARCH 2006 - NEXT WEEK'S NEWSLETTER
It
is with what oh greatly mixed emotions that I listened through jetlag-
delusive sleep/lie-in to England's embarrassment of India this morning,
hating England's attitude-problematic talent-thin side as I do; but
as I pulled on my Pakistan A tracksuit pants I remembered to feel unmixed
elation : INDIA DEFEATED AT HOME! And at the Wank Hede no less! Did
you know that England have not beaten India at Wank Hede since 1984/5?
Wank Hede! The world cup will be so exciting over there in its spiritual
home, The West Indies. Pakistan beat India who drew with England who
lost to Pakistan but England beat Australia and Australia beat SOuth
Africa
Rewind 72 hours and we are still in the free Austin sunshine driving
along undulating roads to beautiful - i use the word advisedly - Austin
Bergstrom airport in Grant's car. Grant Barger : you don't all know
him but he's a walking bloody miracle. As I sat in the airport in a
very pleasant mood thanks to the aspirins i had taken to prevent Aerial
Thigh-Bloat, looking across the runways at the blue sky, cleaned by
the previous night's lightning storm, I wrote in my diary this whole
sentence which you are reading now, ending : "I miss Grant. Grant!"
Robert would have been thinking it on Sunday afternoon as he flew back
to NYC, a few minutes before Rick who would have been also thinking
it, "Grant, Grant!"; and all of our "Grants!" were
probably nowt compared to the monstrous wail of Matt's "GRAAAAANT!!"
as he flew back to San Francisco in the troubling blackness of 5 a.m.
(i exaggerate timings). Matt (i forget surname: Irish descent: may I
quote his grandmother, from the poverty of doctorless old-country? "Oil
nivver ferget, when cousin Ned, gat a sore an his leg, and 3 months
later he doid." i.e. curled up in a corner of the one room hovel
screaming in agony for 3 months until death's merciful release, cancer's
early days.) is Grant's brother-in-law, a swell guy with a voracious
music enthusiasm. We had a lot of fun ad him; i use the latin to imply
by, with AND from. Rick is an old friend of Grant's from their sound-technical
schooling days: see him mentioned on the Royal Trux box set. Grant isn't
mentioned although he was the PRODUCER of the songs in question. Now
Rick's a reporter for PBS and a radio presenter: what is Grant? Nothing,
a loser! He just sits on his arse all day READING FOOTBALL SCORES ALOUD
TO HIS CAT "WANKER". He named his cat "Wanker" because
he's a sad, 61 year old anglophile. He's still in love with a schoolboy
he met in a cafe on Edgware road in 1980. Wanker has cancer and looks
like the dancer, Nuryev. I mean he's all bony and muscular like Bruce
Lee. "What do you call a black man that drives a plane?" "I
don't know." "A pilot you racist!" Despite Rick and Matt's
great music knowledge I was delighted to be able to turn both of these
on to Datblygu.
I didn't use my SXSW lighter/bottle opener until my return. The bleakness
of civilian life, the full inbox, the clash of "Things To Do"
with "What's The Point" which I had fought off from getting
out of bad at 2.30 until the encrochment of dusk at 6.16, not even my
new SHadowring tape could save me but it will now! "There are 4,00
wild cats in britain at this time, you'll find them aLL, in 6 days,
or you probably, never will."
interesting that The Invisible Hand didn't pop the tabs... Surely absent
mindedness. He's got a lot on his mind. -Yes, and it's a vacent lot!
He can't be showing that shyness about the contente which compilationtapemakers
SHOULD show, because these are solid works by already famous artists
: 1. The Shadow Ring, and laughing no less! Their laughter "Oh
don't say that, do you mean it?" rises me from my own ringing shadow.
I've only got as far "I'm Having A Baby" and i have to rewind
the whole album, so desperate am i to have another wholse listen. How
will i record anything to equal this? What's "The Nykov chicken?"
2.The Invisible hand himself with The Rebel, namely "Skillso Nampex",
live and edited from Florentine Italy. Get them before they go to fast!
My favorite bands were Make A Rising, Gorch Fock, Circle, and the Carnys.
I bet i've forgotten 2 or 3 more that i loved. We didn't see Morrissey.
Wednesday we played our Hook or Crook showcase, it was great. We played
perfectly. Don't read the weblog review that says we played too long.
We practiced for 2 days for this. Thursday we played at a lovely day
party at Furniture Records's house, with Indian Jewelry, Make a Rising,
Jana Hunter , Times New Viking and others. Make a Rising were breathtaking.
I was as happy as a black martian goose-cheese. It was dark as i sat
on the porch next to the drummer not caring a shit in the world George
Bush Maggy Thatcher and drinking nice lite beer, my 70th cup that day.
I aborted an argument with a young man who complained that david Lynch
was not Serious. THIS IS ONE WELL DRESSED FUCKIN MAN KNOWS WHERE YOUR
CUTE BUTT'S HIDIN'! YOU'VE GOT ABOUT ONE FUCKIN SECOND TO LIVE, BUDDY!
Fiday we played at Fuck by Fuck Y'All, the country day at Typewriter
Museum on 6th just a few bloccks away from SXSW itself. Very nice atmosphere
again. I LOVE WARM WEATHER. What a release from this bitter cold. Saturday
we enjoyed Grant's band Magic Surprise. Airtight! Lovely music. Played
at Home Slice the delicious pizzaria. New York style. Was it today that
the drummer cooked a delicious meal for us all, based around the Webmaster's
recipe for chard and potatoes? Grant, she and i did a huge shop at the
supermarket. It being st Patrick's day I shopliftd a little green moose
for Matt's lapel.
Sunday we played before 2 awesome bands starring Bob from the Hammicks
and the Latest among others. Wow! In the tiny room it was intimate.
The Carnys : check out the shit. It's nothing like Tom Waits's carny
schtick, it's pure Bob, with minimalistically lyrical music from Grady
on the hammond organ and a crisp drummer. One song is about a carnival
freak : "The Loudest and the Longest Yawning Lady". Are tour
diraies not much worse than civilian diearie becusea everybody knows
what goes on tour? But domestically we are all different/similar±!
"GHot up at 2.30 couldn't do anything went to bed" etcet?
Wait til Amir hears this! he was already pleased by the little bit of
them that he heard on that tape. I have been turning it off when writing
emails because i don't want to miss any of it, i want to save it. Now
i have turned it back on to write this, and i'll keep it on for the
next emails because i want to be sweet to myself instead of savery.
Now i can't think of anything worth writing, about the wonderful week
we had in Austin. The last meal was worth waiting for : barbecue at
sam's. He hadn't a brisket ready, it had only just gone onto the grill,
so we had to settle for ribs, which were delicious, but chewy, not like
the brisket, which lives up to Sam's card : "YOU DON'T NEED TEETH
TO EAT MY BEEF". English readers and vegetarians won't know it
but southern barbecure is the SHIT, especially for someone with an eating
disorder like me. I can swallow it like ice cream. Anyway. The drummer
had been looking forward to this all week and she was rather downcast
by the absence of beef. We didn't have any more time you see, it was
the Last Meal. But i went back in and borrowed $10 off Matt there and
sure enough lo and behold it was ready! Sam cut a piece off for he &
i to try : "I ain't even tested it yet to see if it's done. Here
take this to your wife she goan love it." Or did he say "gwine"
... My ear isn't tuned that well. Anyway if you'll pardon my french
it was FUCKING DELICIOUS. He made a sandwich, big and fat, with raw
onions and pickles. You could have given Cleopatra a baby with that
sandwich. I can't bear being so far away from it... Actually the drummer
roasted a mean bit of pork tonight, stewed in coca cola. It was radical,
it was sweet. We et it with sweed (scotland : "Neeps") and
spinach. One of the multiple choice decoys on my Driving Theory test
today, which i passed thank goodness, amused me greatly : IF YOU ARE
FEELING SLEEPY ON THE MOTORWAY, WHAT SHOULD YOU DO ? -Close all the
windows and turn the heating up. That's some playful visual shit there
conjuring there those examiners.
28
MARCH 2006
The
unreassuringly shit fart of Beno's Applechord announces my seat at the
typewriter again. We all know that the Mislamic woman thing is about
protecting them from the much larger penised* sex "Man", but
why do the Turkey birds get killed over "Honour"? She offered
her honour, I honoured her offer, so all night long I was what do you
call a P*** that d****'* s**** ? - A***!! that is so funny! on her and
off her. Boom! 2 shots to the domepiece from her 6 year old son! Meanwhile
the Injuns are all killing theirs off at age minus Nought, did you know
it's illegal to have a guess at your embruyo's sex because you KNOW
you're not going to keep it, go on! No, seriously, you're not are you!
Come on, you can't kid me! Keep a daughter?-Noooo!!!! I KNOW you're
not going to keep it! Anyway it's all symptomatic that stuff.If dogs
were more useful than cats we'd all be aborting our puppies, right?
i mean the other way round. It's better than putting them in one of
those Bosnian orphanages. Mr Squeers makes them all sing falsetto and
confiscates their ration of Playstation 2 consoles. IT'S HONTEUX! IT'S
SCHADE! IT'S SHAAAAAANNNNNN! Woof.
It's too early for a review because this is listen 2 but we were very
lucky to receive "The Personal Album" yesterday from Dan "Hard
Mag" Mitchell who payed much money. He kept it real on ebay. Well
"I Do What I Want" is already provoking those warm pleasant
tears of Truth with its hilarious serious lyrics... Something about
people in their boring houses clicking their mouses... my god and it
fades off GOTS to play that shit aGAIN! (Wu Tang aGAIN? - Again and
Again!) oh my god he's dropping gold lyrics all over the fucking toilet...
You (and i am accusing the finger at myself here, too) can't whine about
a boring Kool Keith album because they all have his lyrics on them!
Are you standing there telling me he's ever rapped a boring lyric? I
just don't really think you can actually say that! Even if the music
throughout is not compelling for everyone... i personally find Matthew
boring but then the music on that is the most futuristic of his whole
portfolio! So what IS he saying, thatyouhavaproblemwith ? "I think
you don't know what the fuck it is you talkin about!". Grab my
fuckin cape. Take ma fuckin mask off.
PISS ON THE HATERS! That means you, too, bad moslems: you shouldn't
be like that to your ladies. You're spoiling it for the good moslems.
"My right and your wrong".
*I mean here to refer to men's much larger penises; i am not implying
that women are smaller than men; but they do have smaller penises. This
is why they are so insecure! They fear communal showers, and public
toilets with urinals are practically out of the question, unless desperate.
March 6th 2006:
If
you could see your humble servant now with Quebec by WEEN on his headphones
kettle on the boil new artwork in progress (NIRER sleeve : a nice design
we photo copied and blew up, all i have to do is colour it in) in front
of him black pens in hand chewing a nice fat fingernail, you would know
what being "Gay" is all aboot. And I am not even talking about
drugs! But it must all end, like all good things, because i hafta haul
loads of heavy shit to a soundcheck . In many ways; no, in one way :
but "in many ways" is more stylistic; in many ways, I say,
"Quebec" should have come out on December 31st 1999 because
for me it is all about the Fin of the Siecle in my opinion. Many examples
of genre mastery, for instance the mastery of the Voyage genre, quite
prevalent in rock now, in "Captain", convey absolute authority
on Music and assert the high position from which ween are able to proclaim
a serious essay not just about music but about World, which is what
music and other arts are often doing, on purpose or by accident. Pervaded
by history of music, a purely ween sound emerges naturally. Ol dirty
bastard: "This ain't something new that's just coming out of nowhere;
no; this is something OLD, and DIRTY." Well, "dirty"
isn't relevant here, but i believe that an ancient feeling must be evident
in serious modern music. Quebec covers a lot of areas in the discipline,
yes, but that's not really what i'm saying. What am i saying? Well,
to get really into What am i saying we would have to probably start
a new paragraph.
"Quebec" is in many ways the defining 'fin de le siécle'
album of our age, because it came out right at the end of the last millenium,
and in many ways "siecle" is french for "millenium".
Does anyone else like to read "Free Ride Home from the Embassy"
as a letter from one ween to the other about the crisis in their relationship
which, in the time real or unreal represented by the drama of the Album,
is now healed? healed indeed BY the album, the making of it, and its
artistic success? London is a bloody good microcosmic example of a crisis
which i believe grips Rock in a merciless, depressing stranglehold since
about 1990. Rock has been running out of breath, flailing around, throwing
up a wretched last-ditch attempt to self resuscitate with the new Briterican
Indie Rock scene, a death throe, a finissage that thinks it's an opening.
When ween sing to each other about the jadedness ("Couldn't taste
the taste that i was tasting" etc) that was crippling them in the
real or dramatized period from which "Quebec" is a triumphant
escape or phoenistic Rising ("phoenix" rhymes with "penis")
, they speak to me of the jadedness which cripples all Rock, which i
feel keenly myself, and which causes me to swoon at Quebec for its massively
self-energized completeness, its WORK.
"It makes a lot more sense listening to this here," said said
said Sedwards as we drove down the californian coast in bright sunshine,
"than in a dark Walthamstow living room". He illuminates here
the American Rockness of the album which I believe to be crucial to
its strength. The size of the sound and accuracy of guitar solo and
all the instruments in "I Understand It" put ween miles away
from the Butthole Surfers anarchy genre and lodge them in the Grand
Hall of Fame between Eagles and that band who did Hotel California.
er... sic. But Annoying Song comes next to champion the Butthole Surfers
genre right up in the Grand Hall of Fame's arrogant, complacent face.
Extremely Moral segue, that. Have ween ever before put such seriousness
accross and such world-mourning?
My
criticsim is utterly bullshit and i hope i don't cause ween offence
because it is pure subjective, i'm speaking about nothing but my triggered
emotional responses, making theories up out of nothing concrete or informed!
My bullshit melts away under the chorus of the final track. If only
your humble servant were able to weep tears! All i can do is scream
impotently for 3 seconds. Serious floyd fans, who don't get anglo-folky
wierdo barratt and consider The Wall and The Final Cut to be their masterpieces,
feel the same tears coming on at all 3 album's knockout climaxes.
Not many of you know Paul Cooper but the guy's a walking bloody miracle.
Here is the picnic he gave to us as we raced for the bus, which we missed,
but we got the next one:
Bar of milk chocolate.
Large bag Hula Hoops.
2 pieces flapjack.
2 petit filou yoghurts.
Bag of chinese flavour thick crinkle-cut crisps.
2 bananas.
2 oranges.
Bag of seedless grapes.
Bottle of orange juice.
Bottle of diet coke.
large cheese salad.
2 cold chicken breasts.
Eh?!?! What do you think about that! Our intoxicated organisms were
RESCUED FROM DEATH by these items. We had also some delicious brainfood:
Jonathan Miller's "Alice In Wonderland" which we watched on
our computer until the battery ran out. I can't wait to lend Amir this
film, it'll blow his mind. Large guffaws emanated from us as we watched
it with headphones on. Peter Cook and John Bird (or is it fortune? the
shorter one, leastways...) will make you piss yourself. Programmed into
me aged circa 14 or 15, either it's one of the top 5 films ever made
or my critical faculty is extremely influenced by it. (Looking at it
waiting on the piano for when i've finished some necessary chores, errands
and duties, it's like looking at Dave's cream meringue, a copy of a
Bob Guccione era Men Only, or a Game Boy : T E M P T I N G. Tantalizing...
I must resist!) People doing covers of songs need to watch it to get
a grasp on the concept of re-doing something already done. I heard Bowie
and a woman doing a Bowie song the other day; i didn't know it was Bowie,
it was just an intimidatingly crap version with a Smash martian robot
playing the drums from his AIDS ward with sticks made from 10lb rods
of fragile spaghetti. I joked to our drummer "Dave insists on playing
his own sax solos" when the sax came in sounding a bit like the
sax on Psychedelic Furs' "Pretty In Pink", the cheap album
version, not the hollywood remix. In other words if you'll allow me
to continue stretch-metaphorizing, the saxophonist is playing one sax,
and then inside the trumpet of the horn is a much smaller saxophonist
playing the same melody a fraction of a second later, through a kazzoo
so well-used and uncared for that its throat is encrusted with dried
phlegm and mucous. These are then both played though a flanger*. Europe's
angry young muslims starts wednesday. The sound goes in the small aperture
near the bottom and comes out the mouth. Someone has killed himself
in his cell for war crimes; Hague; Milan Babitch, wartime leader of
the serbs; pled guilty; croation war early 90s; i learnt the other day
that War Crime was only invented after WW2. No gobbing on the enemy,
no calling its mum a slag. Mustard gas "not cricket" but may
be used on "Jews" and other non-humans. Barry Manilow's new
album "Guantanamo Bay" going well. "He told the court
he had sex with the woman but with her consent". Could be that
they're setting him up o focurse; O Focurse!
"I digress as usual". Well : the Rebel's Bristol trip started
well : we made Mornington Crescent tube station on schedule : but unfortunately
LON-BRI on our scrawled-in-diary confirmation number turned out to mean
not LONDON BRIDGE but LONDON TO BRISTOL.
Despair! It was a £1 Megabus! Now we had 0.01 seconds to make
Victoria from London Bridge! And there was Person Under A Train! (Children,
don't read this bit, but we think that "Person Under A Train"
means they putted themtheleth under by purpose to kill themtheltheth.)
It was lovely bright morning, wow. A one legged pigeon flew accross
my eyeline as i sat in the sunshine waiting for the drummer to come
back from the internet caf. Broad expanse of tenements flanking railway
valley; dense woolly clouds impinged naught on the blue skies, only
sat there a lovely still white cotton wall; warm sun; i had remembered
my dark glasses! Well we enjoyed the trip down and weren't late, although
we had to spend £30 on the journey instead of £1. (As i
said before, we then missed the return bus : a further £30 was
incurred. But Daniel the promoter had paid us £100 out of his
pocket. Poor showing of audience caused by 6 other gigs happening in
Bristol. But their loss was our gain because the atmosphere in the Junction
was superb and i recommend this venue very highly indeed. Extremely
hospitable landlords, 2 brothers from Manchester, one an obsessed Fall
fan : result! Support band Stuckometer were much more enjoyable than
the last Volcano the Bear performance i saw, and come 2nd to Volcano
the Bear at Ocean, Hackney, for radio 3's mixing it, circa 2001, which
was one of the great gigs, and hugely influential on the Woods sections
of Side 3 of the Moon.) We watched Jeeves and Wooster. I appreciated
alot of Meta-Gay references, allusions and tricks, hoping that Hugh
didn't realise that Stephen loved him when for instance he brought him
his towell and soap in the bath. At the time, terribly afraid of being
homosexual or being cornered and bummed by one, I would have seen the
Laurie/Fry interpretation more like a misogynist or Withnailian alliance.
Did anyone see them in the Comic Strip film doing that speech about
women's inferiority to men? Awesome Fry, that. Empire English Satire,
mode : self deprecation. I'm thinking of asking John "Penthouse/Gin
Palace" Free, who looks like Fry and gets asked a lot if his surname
indicates relation, if he wants to do a couple of episodes with me as
Wooster. I'm the wrong type though: too troubled by guilt, not at all
Completely Irresponsible and (archaic:) "Gay". You can see
in my face that i know it's going to run out any minute.
Bristol city centre is unspeakably grim but some of the rest of it looked
nice and the sunshine greatly improved it. Dan picked us up in his dirty
red volvo, its passenger foot-well a thrilling pit full of ephemera
and collectibles. "My shoes hovered 2 cms above the dense green
carpet of the jungle floor." I am listening to "Fried"
by Julian Cope. I arrived at a huge refugee camp who fled from Brutal
violence in Burma. He hobbles towards me with a makeshift crutch after
being forced by Burmese soldiers to carry the booty they had looted
from his house. Parents shot after he had to run and leave them behind.
"I cried a lot; but I know i just could not do anything."
Shows me the chains that bound his ankles. Sent to Insane Jail for joining
pro-democracy demonstrations. Forced to live as a dog : had to woof
when called. Food on floor. Had to eat as a dog. Stay 6 month in dog
cell. 1000s of students slaughtered coolly for uprising. Britain: I
helped you in struggle against Japanese. Now we are in trouble but you
never come to help us.
Anyway. Great gig; welsh drunks were very merry during soundcheck; desperately
trying to persuade me to sell them my cricket jumper; but this is a
Flycatchers CC jumper given to me by my father; "We don't give
a fuck about any of that, mate". I sang Haner Awr Wedi Dim (Datblygu)
in the soundcheck but they diddn't sym tew notice. The drummer and I
went to get something to eat. We didn't notice the place recommended
by Daniel but found a cosy-looking Italian place where we had a very
romantic dinner (the drummer and I are having a bit of an affair. It's
nothing serious; we're not gay or anything. The drummer wants me to
commit to something a bit more solid like a small ranch we could run
together but I don't really think we could avoid getting killed by the
society for being Queer so i'm going to persist with my shit marriage
and kids which I hate, well not my kids of course.) of onions, tomatoes
& olives then penne napoletan and what's that soup called bloody
hell it's gone... and half a carafe of lovely drinkable light red wine.
What's that soup called MINESTRONE, that's it of course, minestrone.
Pronounced "Mine Strone". We didn't get out alive, completely,
from the whole thing. The drummer is in pain all over; i have 2 large
scar/bruises at the same place on each shin and general stiffness, aches.
She fell off the stage twice, claiming that i helped her up but i don't
recall it; a deeply contented/mentally ill smile played about her face
whenever i saw her. I was talking too much, from an assumed position
of authority, as usual. Nice chat with landlords. Generous with refreshments
even after hours. I wonder what time we left... Anyway it all went wrong
; I seemed to have forgotten that I had Cath & Paul's address in
my pocket so our taxi dropped us in the wilderness and we walked for
a period which could have been hours. I phoned my Mum. It was 8 a.m.
when we arrived at Cath & Paul's. I've apologised already, don't
worry. We fucked up. I'm bloody annoyed with myself. I HAD THE ADDRESS
IN MY POCKET! Sorry Mum.
*Roadie jargon : a female vocalist e.g. Siouxsie, Bjerk (christian name
Michael), Joplin, Natasha Beddingfield who caused me to turn my radio
off when she fucked up her ok instrumental intro with these words :
"I am unwritten, I'm undefined: can't read me mind". Oops
i didn't mean that lower class possessive; mistakeresting, mistakeresting,
very, i'm sure.
I just opened my bag and found more picnic items: 2 clementines and
a chicken&cucumber sandwich.
"G a"
March
3rd 2006
India
have become as a prostitue daughter to me, Go away from my eyeline now!
that you fornicate Nuclearly with America, the great satan! You see,
America for those who don't know are rather like the virtual or "Playstation"
version of India, where India are the "Real" or "Cricket"
archetype for America. In the virtual or Non-Cricket world, America
dominate most supermarkets/net practices, just as in the REAL, or Non-virtual
world of Cricket, INDIA monopolise things and tell everyone what to
do. That's why Pakistan's victory in the recent 3 battle nuclear war
was so crucial, and why I am currently going against my blood and cheering
sickly, dysfunctional ENGLAND against India in the current series. Now
it's time for You & Yours, with John "Chris Langham" Waite
and Liz "Wee Fucker wee fuckin witch fuckin Jean fuckin Brodie
wee jock cunt but aye fuckin edinburgh snoab fuck off ken" Berkeley,
name misspelt to avoid personal offence, i don't mean any, i'm just
being a bit of a radge, to prolongue my pidgin Edinburgh a bit longer,
in order to upset Jocks and Scotchmen. Kneel, Mulholland : drive! So
incensed by the Badger campaing that he wrote to the Times. Can you
tell, reader, that your humble servant has found myslef by accident
on Radio 4, and is extremely amused by the fucking middle class smokescreen
of laundry/ironing/dusting filth they are poisoning Mums and people
on the dole with ? And now i heare they are going to PHASE OUT THE WORLD
SERVICE!!! We must oppose this in our bullshit middle class radio 4
"You & Yours" way. We need world news, not fucking Beckham's
haircut, my gripes about domestic chores and George Michael's private
affairs.
March
1st 2006
"RIVERS OF SHIT FLOWING THROUGH UNSERVICED AREAS OF BASRA Iraq
aren't stopping a wonderful week's progress for The Rebel this week
as we found ourselves quite out of the blue being nominated for a prize
at this year's British Music Industry awards! In the category of technical
development, we are getting the award (yes : they told us already we're
getting it. The other nominees are Baby Bird, Badly drawn Boy and Bogshed,
none of whom can make it to the ceremony) for our brilliant website,
where we were the first indie band to invent the concept of you can
actually buy the album you know off the webshite. The Victim's house
is in the vicinity soldier kidnapped with wife & child by iraqi
police whose chief commissioner has been sacked some police are complimentary
about the british, some hate them nobody knows where the governor is.
Swirl of rival groups, threat of violence all the time. Holy shit where
does the time go? There's nothing to do here on the dole when a dutch
person turns on his tv he only learns bad things about muslims and these
reasons contribute to our feeling that a cartoon is hurtful. What is
the connection between the spice and the worm and USA giving India nuclear
technology and the omnipotent Indian CRICKET BOARD? The "Feelgood"
factor in relations between USA and India. Rivers of shit running through
the streets of Basra, billions of lepers running around asking for rupees,
Npower, Emirates, Carling, can i have a nuclear bomb no you bloody can't
you jumped little jew-hater give me my fucking smack, hey did anyone
see the Iran prime minister's press conference? i know they don't deal
out the smack, it's the other ones, afghan, but don't you think it was
2 fingers to the west that he had a 50 foot squared gary glitter on
trial in thailand is it? the former glam rock star arrested whilst trying
to leave vietnam and will now soend at least one more night in his shared
cell. Up the Glitter! -no, mum, for christ's sake i'm being ironic,
it's just a gimmick, something i write, me and my friends all of us:
the people don't need to know!* The World Service demonstrates its Superiority
over Domestic News by failing until today to mention the £53 million
bank robbery. I didn't even know about it until Amir showed me it on
BBConline news, to which he is addicted. He couldn't believe i hadn't
heard about it; but i'm in the convex coccoon of World News, i don't
hear or give a shit about fucking english news : fuck you. The last
time i watched the news on a tv in someone else's house we don't have
one here of course because we can't justify paying the license fee anymore
i was horrified that THE LATEST INDIE BAND, WHO SHALL RENAME MAINLESS
BECAUSE IT WASN'T THEIR FAULT, (Artic Myncis), was fucking NEWS. That
welsh guy the big guy with the tan and action man hair, he said "And
now the band who is currently " My God! But bombs are going off
up your daughter's cunt RIGHT NOW in Iraq etc etc etc etc etc!!! To
quote tv's Victor Meldrew who is my role model now, "I don't
be lieve it!"
Anyway it was a great week for the rebel, we created a beautiful compact
disc. Brown Girl In The Ring was mastered by Amir "The Company
Does Things Right Even if it takes 12 Hours, 4 ******s, half a bottle
of vodka and 10 b*ogs of W****ed" Rima, I'm afraid i conked out
at about 11, waking up at 3 am when he said "Dude wake up it's
finished". We'll get some of our shit - The Company - up soon.
Meanwhile i should probably tell Nosferatu to put up a Company sleeve
to advertise it ... we've done 2 albums you know... Side 3 of the Moon
is one of the greatest albums of the last 30 years. The day before that
i'd been with FastFingers Logic Daniel Feel, the Pro, mixing Country
Teasers' first performance of songs for The Empire Strikes Back (Spitz,
London 31/08/05) for release in Spitz's Live album series. That was
6 hours of hard core Logic. What an awesome sound: quite a surprise,
live recordings being so shit usually. His generosity with tea and biscuits
made me forget that the little raisin-flapjack cup cakes WERE EVEN THERE.
Satan was trying to get me to take one when i was on my own in the kitchen
but i refused. "Fuck you, i'm still not over the guilt from Dave's
Cream Meringue 1990, Edinburgh!" Anyway that's not really our thing
it's Spitz's, the real shit i'm focussed on is BGITR and now NIRER,
the Rebel 99-05 compilation "Nothing Is Real Except Recording"
which we hope to have ready for SXSW next week. i wonder if we're going
to be able to see Morrissey... Actually i did also hear about poor George
Michael; he overdid the hash but it's gross misconduct of the Sun to
publish his boot contents. They just can't get used to guys bumming
each other! I suppose until you've actually BEEN raped you can't imagine
it being anything other than UNPLEASANT.
Waiter : "Are you hungry?"
Dinner: "Yes please, i'd like the silp Ferudian please."
I've just noticed i didn't finish my sentence you interrupted me : a
50 foot photo wall of poppies against a blue sky. He was saying "Your
junkies will not be happy if, when you refuse to allow our nuclear,
we withhold their oil!" Mistakeresting, mistakeresting, very. But
can it run for 2 weeks? Otherwise I don't think i want to BOTHER, really...
Anyway the cd case is British Paper Company card, that was our Dad's
paper mill, they recycled paper from waste paper into board/card/paper
from 1890 until a few years ago when the mill closed down because you
motherfuckers are all cunts, heating the ice glaciers and driving s.u.v's
and all of that. S.War-Politicz our manufacturer has created a masterpiece
in design. You're going to love it! Meanwhile, send Shadow Ring takes
for god's sapes. We ordered one about 10 years ago. I completely reccommend
to everyone my current bog reading : MAUS to make me feel good about
my quality of life/Bad about you motherfuckers, and also Simon Brett's
anthology of diary entries, from about 1500, incl Pepys, Denton Welch,
Byron, E.Waugh and lots of awesomely domestic diarists. It reveals that
cold weather and depression have always been around, don't sweat it
mang. Yeah that's right put fucking Quebec on and have a fucking orgasm!
*Keith Thornton.
February
06.
Happy
New Year everyone, I have given up white whine and bad beers for my
stomach. I have taken up the habit practiced in Japan of eating raw
fish and drinking Sake, the best brand of which being Fuck's, a far
superior label to the more popular Christ's. The resultant effect on
our musical poutput - i use the word "our" advisedly - has
been a 100% success rate so far. The Rebel's first gig of the new millenium
2006 was with our dear friends UNCLE JOHN AND WHITELOCK again at the
Free Butt in London's harsh, fight-keen little coastal suburb Brighton.
A fight was just being mellowed out by 5 cops and 2 cop cars when we
arrived. A woam* twice the height and thinness of her policewoman interviewer
was leaning down sideways in an attempt to blend faces. You know how
when it's physiognomist to say someone looks like a criminal? I didn't
say that. Gosh it was cold, but with hindsight it was a DREADFUL MISTAKE
to buy Budgens own-label scotch whisky, which we mixed with the promoter's
kindly offered Sainsbury's own brand and a bottle of red wine which
i BELIEVE lasted until Hendon, where The Rebel (by which I remind you
to understand that I mean The Rebel and his wife, sometimes named Yellowskull,
the drummer in the band, being the band The Rebel, you know, like the
bands "Blondie" or "Beck", which joke i cracked
at our most recent concert, Saturday 26th at a very cold place called
Silwex House, where we were providing the entertainment for the finissage
party of a group show organised by the painter PHILLIPA HORAN, and a
jolly decent painter she is too in my opinion, although I don't know
much about art but I know what I'd like to eat: some more spinach and
pea soup, please. ***** *******'s tour diary is v. funny, i envy his
ability to be concise. I can't be concise because all my jokes seem
to come in the DIGRESSIO format. I mean, look at this enormous parenthesis!)
woke up on the train back to London from Brighton, having missed London
out, through sleep. 2 men hovered around near us while we waited for
a god-sent nightbus back to Camden. We sat in silence on the bus, struck
humble-dumb by the realisation that we had been saved from a desperate
situation by God and/or Jesus. It had been a brilliant performance,
probably our best ever, certainly our best in the 2 piece line-up. We
had practiced a lot so we could play "Kneel, Mullholland: Drive!"
and a couple of songs from PRAWNS. It's a shame how quickly one gets
tired of playing the same songs over and over. After checking the sound
of my synth mountain we went to see our friend Jo and her 3 daughters
in a cafe. After that we watched the excellent support acts. To quote
Keith Farquhar, the place is fuckin eruptin man when it was our turn,
I exaggerate, but there was a lovely atmosphere and it was quite full.
We played well; so that was our first good gig.
The next good gig was our father group COUNTRY TEASERS who flew via
Stansted to Pau next to the Pyrenees in S. France down there yeah. I
ogled the ski holidaymakers skis enviously. We'd all been skiing for
christmas thanks to our parents. I found it difficult to leave, having
just about mastered it on day 4 and then gotten worse so that when we
had to leave i felt unsatisfied and eager to practice more. But those
Austrians sure are some menacing characters. I wouldn't be surprised
at all if it turned out that Hitler was in fact Austrian! Well anyway
I was somewhat trepidary as we left England because a)i feared lest
the venue and accommodation turned out to be EURO-SQUAT style,which
seems to happen to us quite a lot and b)my flying neighbour, a mature
Yah in a group of 6 who kept shouting "Time for another Rhesus
Negative", told me about the Stones at Twickenham being fantastic,
mentioned his wife just left him, was half drunk and behaving like a
teenager on Ecstasy. I was in a melancholy humour. Anyway that all changed
when we were driven from the airport by nice smart guys to the excellent
huge venue for a quick soundcheck and thence to our AWESOME hotel where
we had a set-list orientated meeting eating fois gras and sweet wine
locally bought. Ah this is the life! We got drunk, there was a lot of
people calling me a genius, extremely nice food, the sound was great,
Agnes from Bourdeaux was falling onto the stage; more food after, then
a dancing party in another bit; i conked out on a deckchair; in the
morning i could see the pyrenees from our window; i tried to take a
photo but they were too bright for my camera. We got up around 1 and
went to eat oysters. Sophie had danced on some glass and couldn't walk
properly. We were all still a little drunk and merry. Very sunny day.
A lot of extremely hard practicing assured that the 100% good-gig rate
was maintained when we played with James Sedwards of Nøught in
our band "The Devil" at the room-above-a-pub music evening
called Scaledown hosted by Mark & Richard who do a lot of work much
better than their Fall tribute band The Hideous Replicas. We are a loud,
heavy band, so it was pleasing to play at an event specifically designed
for folk, poetry and laptops. We were too loud in the soundcheck and
the landlord freaked out but when we played and the room was soaked
with bodies it was o.k. and our practicing paid off although Sophie
& I both struggle with the really hard fast one, "My First
Waltz". I wore a tall head-dress made from a bin liner supported
by 4 coat hangers intertwined carefully in a design which I have patented.
James was dressed as an unpleasant 70s character, with platforms, flares,
no shirt, pearl necklace, denim sports-jacket, shades and feathered
trilby. Sophie wore one of those eerie White-Male smiling masks which
i recognize from Devo videos. We were very pleased with ourselves: aren't
you LOVING this piece of writing! Next day was The Rebel's gig at the
finissage. We were a bit confused beforehand; there seemed to be a lot
of loose ends organisation-wise; we wanted to practice a bit beforehand;
but we did; nice set-up; terrible acoustics because of the unmanageable
ware-house reverb but in the end it was fine because there were just
enough people to soak up the echo. I've lost it with this entry, there's
nothing funny in it. The theme of it is that we kept our 100% success
rate for the year, playing well again and enjoying it. It's not usually
like this you know! Playing live can be absolutely miserable if it doesn't
feel good. On tour, when every gig is played from an exhausted physical
standpoint, it can be an unpleasant test of strength and morale, nothing
more, to play live. And playing in London, when there is usually no
money, no new fans and hardly any old ones because they're bored of
us, no reason to do it because there's no time to practice and be a
real band, causes me to want to never play live again! Well that's not
the case right now because of this run of good gigs. Phew! Looking forward
to Friday with Nøught. Hope we can keep it going for
the whole year and our tour of America in May/June. *WOAM: southern
England's gollem or ogre, a female monster which can grow to 8 feet
but never exceeds 6 inch waist. Comes out of the sea at night swearing
in English with difficult-to-understand estuary accent. Sells crack,
heroin and poppers to nice gay guys along boardwalk. Children flee in
terro : "Aaaa mummy! A Woam! A Woam!"
THE
REBEL SUPPORTING UNCLE JOHN AND WHITELOCK ON THE GFM PORCH AT THE CATALYST
GALLERY, BELFAST. JUNE 23RD 2005.
THE
REBEL AND YELLOWSKUL GOT UP AT 5 AM AND WERE DRIVEN TO THE AIRPORT BY
YELLOWSKUL'S MUM - BLESS: RASTA : - BELFAST IS A NICE PLACE. WE AWOKE
UNCLE JOHN, WHITELOCK, THE ONION AND OUR HOSTS BENJI AND LUCY IN THEIR
HOUSE DINE THAR AFF THE ORMEAU ROWD AT A SENSIBLE 8 AM. GFM HAD BEEN
BUILDING THE PORCH AT CATALYST GALLERY UNTIL 11 PM PREVIOUS NIGHT. IT
WAS MADE FROM BEAMS, PLANKS AND BOARDS COLLECTED IN GLASGOW AND DRIVEN
OVER THE WATER IN A FULL VAN. IT WAS LARGE AND SOLID. PLEASE GO TO THEIR
WEBSITE FOR DETAILS AND PHOTOS BECAUSE I HAVEN'T THE LANGUAGE TO CONVEY
IT. WE CONVENED THERE IN THE AFTERNOON HAVING ENJOYED OYSTERS, MUSSELS,
IRISH STEW AND OF COURSE "Guinness For Me" IN THE GEORGE ON
VICTORIA STREET. WE HELPED SET THINGS UP AND WE PRACTISED. THE SOUND
SYSTEM WAS RICH : TWO SPEAKERS IN FRONT OF THE PORCH, TWO AT THE BACK
OF THE PORCH, ALL RESONATING WITH THE PORCH WOOD TO CREATE LARGE, WARM,
THICK BASS SOUND FOR MY SYNTH AND THEN WHITELOCK'S BASS. THERE WAS SO
MUCH TO DO THAT WE ONLY MANAGED TO GET TO THE PARK TO THROW SOME DISC
AS IT GREW DARK. YELLOWSKUL AND JOHN HAD STARTED THE SAUCE COOKING WITH
SOME ASSISTANCE FROM THE REBEL. I CAN'T REMEMBER WHERE WE GOT THE FOOD:
WAS IT A SUPERMARKET ? OUR HOSTS LET US SLEEP IN THEIR BED, THEY TOOK
THE SOFA. YELLOWSKUL FELL ASLEEP IN HER CHAIR READING A BOOK AND I FELL
ASLEEP ON HER HEAD. WE SLEPT WELL AFTER OUR 20 HOUR DAY. I HAD BEEN
RECORDING VICTIM'S HARD-MAG SONGS THE NIGHT BEFORE AT THEIR PRACTISE
SPACE NEAR ARSENAL'S NEARLY-FINISHED STADIUM SPONSORED BY EMIRATES;
SOPHIE HAD HAD A GIG WITH WET DOG. NEXT DAY WE ALL WENT UP TO THE GALLERY
HANG ON A MINUTE WE DIDN'T GET THE SOUND GOING UNTIL TODAY YEAH THAT'S
RIGHT. YESTERDAY IT WAS ALL CONSTRUCTION. WENT WITH THE ONION TO GET
PROVISIONS FOR A BARBECUE ON THE ROOF OUTSIDE THE GALLERY. THERE WAS
A MEAT MOUNTAIN AT ONE POINT BUT IT ALL GOT ATE. THE SCENE OUT THERE
WAS MELLOW. NICE WEATHER. LUCY IMPORTED SANATOGEN WINE TONIC TO THE
MIX. IT CAUSED HER TO DANCE ALL NIGHT IN A GOOD STYLE. I DON'T KNOW
WHAT ELSE TO WRITE REALLY.... BOTH BANDS PLAYED WELL, THE SOUND WAS
PARTICULARLY GOOD WHEN I SAT RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE PORCH AND GOT THE
DENSITY OF THE BASS VIBES AND THE ACOUSTIC OF THE PORCH WALLS &
ROOF. I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO BUILD AN ACOUSTIC CHAMBER TO HAVE ON STAGE
AND GET AWAY FROM THE BULLSHIT OF ROCK VENUES BUT I AM SO LAZY AND UNMOTIVATED.
THE GFM BAND PLAYED FOR A RECORD-BREAKING 2 HRS. 50. NEXT DAY WE HAD
TO GET UP AT 9 AND TAKE THE PORCH DOWN AS FAST AS WE COULD. IT WAS A
MASSIVE TEAM EFFORT, AND I USE THE WORDS "MASSIVE" AND "TEAM"
WITH THE CORRECT CADENCE. THE SPEED WITH WHICH IT CAME DOWN CAUSED A
REALLY GOOD MORALE THROUGHOUT. NO-ONE WAS GOING TO MISS ANYONE'S FERRY.
THE REBEL & YELLOWSKUL WERE OK : OUR PLANE WASN'T UNTIL 8 PM. JOHN,
WHITELOCK AND THE ONION DROVE OFF AT ABOUT 2 AFTER A GREAT BIG BREAKFAST
IN THE NEX D'OR WHERE THE PREGNANT RED-HEAD DIDN'T LIKE US BECAUSE A
CHIP WENT TO GROUND AND OUR TABLE FORGOT TO THANK HER FOR THE WATER
WHICH WE'D ASKED FOR ABOUT AN HOUR AGO. "You are all very welcome'"
she said slowly, i don't blame her, i was just too pre-occupied with
my awesome fry-up to remember to say thanks right then. It's just one
of those terrible moments that one absolutely dreads in life, don't
you agree? I LOVED THE SODA BREAD AND THE MILKSHAKE IN PARTICULAR. THERE
WAS A LOT OF MERRIMENT ABOUT THE NEWS, NAMELY 007 THE PERSUADER, THE
GUY WHO TOLD ONE WIFE TO LIVE ON A MARS BAR A WEEK AND SOME OTHER GUY
HE HAD TO WAIT FOR AN M.I.5 OPERATIVE IN A SERVICE STATION FOR 2 WEEKS
WITH ONLY A FEW QUID AND ANOTHER WOMAN TO LIVE IN A LIGHTHOUSE ON THE
LOOK OUT FOR RUSSIAN SUBMARINES. OVAL RECKONED HE SHOULD DO SOME JAIL
BUT ALSO GET A COMEDY AWARD. HE PISSES ALL OVER THOMPSON & VENABLES
IN MY OPINION, THEY WERE TOO INTO THAT WHOLE 90'S GORE-FEST THINGY.
WE LOST WHITELOCK TEMPORARILY BUT I FOUND HIM WITH A PATCH HE'D BOUGHT
FOR THE ONION "HAWAIIAN SURFER" WHICH IF YOU DON'T KNOW THE
ONION, WELL THAT'S WHAT HE IS AMONG OTHER THINGS. WHO SHOULD WE BUMP
INTO EN ROUTE TO THE OLDEST PUB IN BELFAST 1630 BUT DAVE THE GUITARIST
WHO HAD GONE TO HELP HIS FRIEND WHO'D BEEN LOCKED UP LAST NIGHT FOR
AN OFFENCE AGAINST THE LAW. WE ALL HAD SOME DRINKS BUT MORALE DIPPED
SLIGHTLY BECAUSE WE COULDN'T GET BACK INTO THE GALLERY TO GET OUR PERSONAL
EFFECTS AND SHIT AND THERE WAS ALOT OF HANGOVER AROUND. ANYWAY. THAT
GOT SORTED OUT ALRIGHT. SOPHIE & I WENT FOR A NICE LONG WALK UP
THE SHANKHILL ROAD MARVELLING AT ALL THE FRIGHTENING PROPAGANDIST MURALS
AND AN ENORMOUS PILE OF PALLETS (IN CANADA THEY CALL THEM SKIPS) BEING
ASSEMBLED TO BURN FOR THE MARCHING SEASON. WE WENT NORTH UP TENNENTS
ROAD AND SAW A VAST BLOCK OF TERRACED HOUSES ALL BURNT OUT AND DERELICT.
WE DIDN'T MAKE IT TO THE CATHOLIC ARDOYNE, OUR FEET WERE HURTING. IT
WAS A PRETTY POOR PLACE THOUGH. NICE TO LOOK AT, SHOCKING THOUGH IT
IS TO SAY, BECAUSE I FUCKING HATE THE AESTHETICS IN RICH AREAS LIKE
LONDON ETC. YOU'RE ONLY ADVERTISING YOUR FUCKING PRODUCT THERE BUDDY
BECAUSE IT'S NOT FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH AND YOU KNOW YOU CAN SELL IT, TAKE
IT THE FUCK AWAY BITCH. WHEN WE ARRIVED BACK AT BENJI & LUCY'S THEY
COOKED US A SMASHING TEA OF SAUSAGES, TOMATOES & BEANS WITH MASHED
POTATO AND WE WATCHED THE NEWWS WHICH WAS MOSTLY ROBERT MUGABE. AS I
SAID THERE, IT WAS NICE, BECAUSE FOR ABOUT 10 MINUTES I FORGOT THAT
GEORGE BUSH EXISTS. THEN HE CAME ON WITH HIS EYE-CONTACT & SMILE
ROUTINE, AND THAT AWFULLY UNNERVING USE OF "THEY WILL" AND
"IT WILL" AND "WE WILL" IN SENTENCES LIKE "THEY
WILL NOT PREVAIL" BUT "THEY" USUALLY DO PREVAIL AFTER
HE'S SAID "THEY WILL NOT" AND SO WE CAN'T RELAX IN THIS CULTURE
AT ALL, EXCEPT FOR 10 MINUTES WHEN WE'RE OGLING THE SHEER BOSCHIAN NIGHTMARE
OF LIFE IN EVERYWHERE ELSE E.G. ZIMBABWE. WE GOT OUR PLANE HOME ALRIGHT
AND HERE I AM NOW TRYING TO CATCH UP ON EMAILS. LAUNDRY; EAGERNESS TO
TURN ON TELLY AND WATCH WIMBLEDON; SOOOOOOOO HAPPY TIM HENMAN'S OUT,
REEEEEALLY GLAD HE SWORE AND DISGRACED HIMSELF : FUCK ENGLAND FOR IDENTIFYING
THEMSELVES IN SUCH LARGE NUMBERS WITH THIS ONE BOWIE-TOOTHED LITTLE
BULLY AND MAKING HIM EVEN WORSE THAN HE ALREADY IS POOR LAMB. WHAT ABOUT
BANGLADESH BEATING AUSTRALIA ?! THAT'S THE SHIT I'M TALKING ABOUT RIGHT
THERE.
The
Duke of Clarence gig, saturday 11 June, 2005.
"THE
DUKE OF CLARENCE does not currently play it off legit so Soraya
the artisitic director was told 1. to cancel, then 2. to
cut off 2 of the bands, then 3. to
only allow 20 mins. per band, then 4. to not play,
then 5.to play in the garden , then 6(The Rebel's idea) ok we can play
in the garage next door, so Dag, The Rebel, Soraya and the sound man
moved the PA etc into the garage and a really improved scene happened
because the pub was inghabited by strictly criminals and their molls
sitting wordlessly like guppies. UM opened the night with his brilliant,
funny lyrics over spooky danceable grooves which are actually TOO SHORT.
The atmosphere & morale in the room were v. high.
Guests included Country Teasers Alastair
Mackinven and Leighton Crook, and the famous artist Merlin Carpenter.
Next Soraya and Dag played a type of blues very suitable for the scene.
Alas we had been cut to ten mins each now. The REBEL wowed the 10 or
so people with our heavy version of PEST WOOD. The crowd were very lucky
to have the drums right under their noses. Mackinven, who also forms
half of THE STALLION, commented that Sophie is his second favorite drummer
after Jon Bonham. It hAd been a tiring day - The Rebel ma. had been
making up music with drumming legend Javier de los Grimorio while The
Rebel mi. had been practising with her band wet dog. While the latter
fell asleep the former tried to watch The Empire Strikes Back 3 times,
waking up to see the credits, Luke feeling his new hand or at best Leia
etc rescuing him but never the actual I'm Your Father duel until the
morning. i kept rewinding it and trying again but i couldn't do it.
Do you all know the joke :
Darth Vader : "I know what you're
getting for christmas".
Luke : "How?"
Darth Vader : "I felt your presents" |