Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts

9/23/2009

No More Heroes

Hello,
In a week that saw the Sugababes become pop's very own version of Trigger's broom I have decided to turn my attention to the increasingly dull world of music. I know everyone complains about music as they get older but I've been sat next to the office radio all day which I am convinced must violate one of my more important human rights. At least folk in previous generations had the luxury of saying 'it's just noise', 'it all sounds the same' and 'is that a man or a women?'. What questions does the modern download chart raise? 'Have they started yet?', 'Are they only doing music because they couldn't get jobs in insurance?' and 'Do you reckon he wets the bed?'. Bloody awful. Apart from the bits I don't mind.

I've wandered. What I am meandering towards is this peculiar tantrum by Everett True. He seems like a nice man but many years ago when I was a teenager he was obsessed with Kurt Cobain and wrote about him all day long in some now defunct music paper. It was quite sweet in it's way. I only mention it because the years do not seem to have dimmed his passion for the late Mr Cobain.

As far as I can make out Mr True is in an awful strop because one can footer with the settings on Guitar Hero and make Kurt mime along to songs by Bon Jovi and Bush. This is a very bad thing because it involves associating the image of someone who has a degree of credibility with some people who have less credibility. You see unlike Bon Jovi or Bush, Nirvana never sold out by making commercial music, signing to a major record label or altered their record sleeves and song titles in order to comply with the wishes of Walmart. Oh no! Unlike Gwen Stefani's husband out of Bush of Jon Bon Jovi out of Bon Jovi, Kurt Cobain didn't ruthlessly pursue a major record deal then pretend to be all conflicted and upset about it like it was an airborne virus rather than the result of years of graft.

Oh wait. I think I've got that wrong haven't I? In fact if anything I think if anything the openly careerist Mr Bon Jovi and Mr Gwen Stefani's Husband should be up in arms at having their music associated with such an out and out phony. Of course in reality they'll be delighted at being mentioned in the same breath as the musically superior Nirvana.

I'm sure someone somewhere idolises Jon Bon Jovi but is it really any more absurd than idolising Kurt Cobain? Unless of course one admires Mr Cobain as a man with a good sales pitch or for breathtaking hypocrisy. In which case he wins hands down. That said I suppose one should regard anything that stops the easily impressed admiring John Lennon as a good thing. For all his faults Mr Cobain comes nowhere near the sheer horror of that self-indulgent shit for brains.

I should stress at this point that I couldn't give a fuck about people signing to major record labels. I never did. I'm quite delighted to see musicians making a bob or two. It's wanting it but not having the balls to tell all the sneery, whiny losers where to ram their jealousy dressed up as morality that rips my knitting. There's fuck all wrong with success, having money is a fucking treat. If Cobain had really been that upset by his success in life he'd have given the money to the cat and dog home and refused to record another note for his label. Instead he shot himself because he was just your common or garden nutter. There but for citalopram go I. Having sympathy for the man and his illness is fine but admiring him for it is absurd. One might as well admire my pal at work for her 'Duke of Argylls' or me for having a toenail infection.

If I were Mr True I'd leaf to the end of 'The Boy Looked at Johnny' read the following and recite it at regular intervals in the hope it sinks in.

'Anyhow God Save Rock and Roll... it made you a consumer, a potential Moron.....
ITS ONLY ROCK AND ROLL AND ITS PLASTIC, YES IT IS!!!!!'
Cheerio

8/01/2009

Really Quite Astonishing

Hello,
Obviously as we all know the most terrifying phrase in the English language is 'come and see my friends band'. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred it involves watching a load of spotty boys trying and failing to sound like some popular mediocrity or worse being wacky or worst of all- sensitive. Consequently I try and avoid going to see any friend's bands because I always end up resenting them for robbing me of an hour of my life that could have been better spent watching River City or sleeping.

However I broke my rule last night by going to see The Hidden Masters at McChullis and for once, allowing my curiosity to get the better of me proved to be one of my better decisions. They are jaw droppingly good, really quite astonishing. In a sane world they'd be all over the tabloids falling out of nightclubs pissed on the proceeds of their offshore investments in one of the world's leading tax havens. As this isn't a sane world the masses are deprived and Coldplay's deal with Satan continues to pay massive dividends.

It's a risky business going to see live music in these parts. I have still not recovered from seeing a young man who's name escapes me playing a really tedious song about candyfloss and genocide and peroxide and suicide and the USA, that was over ten years ago. Then there was that outbreak of all those really thick women who used to dress like two year olds and play really badly for some reason or another apparently inspired by feminism. Still that was all a very long time a go and mercifully such antics are not so widespread nowadays.

Anyway I highly recommend popping along to have a peep at The Hidden Masters next time they're in your neck of the woods. Marvel at a band who actually make an effort to be entertaining, gasp as you realise you have not wasted a whole evening watching a gaggle of twats trying to recreate 1982 badly, send yourself mad wondering why they haven't been handed a fat record contract and a mansion full of sexually adventurous models to play with. Honestly you will not be sorry.

In a totally unrelated bit of news I'm still fundraising for my guerrilla gardening troop and our ongoing effort to blanket Glasgow in ten thousand spring blooms. All we need is 76 people to chip in a tenner and we've hit our target. Thanks to those who've helped out so far, it really is much appreciated.

Cheerio

5/18/2008

A Real Touch Of Class



I can't view this without longing for Blackpool.

1/05/2008

Peculiar New Romantic Slap Fest



Hello,
Now if I had been more than a small child in the 1980s and directing music videos I think I would have done this video very differently. I'd have snorted a big line of coke, spent half the budget on hookers then come up with a cobbled together pastiche of 'All About Eve', 'Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte' and 'Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?'.

So well done to whoever came up with the new romantic slapping concept.

For the record I'd love to be rolled like a dice by a bird with Bette Davis eyes.


Cheerio

12/20/2007

Proof Positive.....










...that art has nothing to do with morality. Let's face it the last time Tina was talented she was voluntarily getting a regular doing from Ike (God rest his soul).

12/01/2007

One for the ladies



God! I'd forgotten how handsome Mr Cole is.

10/21/2007

Oooooh! Kylie

Hello,
As come backs go this is a bit of a 'stunted orgasm'. It's very nice, you know it should make your eyes roll in your head, it takes you to the brink and then fades. Nevertheless it's very pretty.

8/25/2007

M.I.A week continues.....

I'll batter you over the head until you submit. Oh yes.


8/21/2007

More M.I.A

Hello,
It's been some years since I've been excited about new music so to celebrate I have declared this M.I.A week on Clairwil. Enjoy or not as the case may be.