CD-R (at least that�s what I got. And a manky old �colour zerox� insert)
Thursday 24th October 2002
Rape Day!!!! (1)
Fucking sick of having to hear about that stupid dumb-ass bitch Ulrika Jonsson! Sick of them all!! These over-paid, over-dosed �stars� and �celebrities��just what the fuck has this wrinkled-up old sow done to attract so much cunting attention? It all goes hand-in-hand with the needs of the submissive mindless masses, a question of balance you see, ultra-idiot dance for ultra-idiot audience. Lap it up, fuckwits! They pissed and shat on a cold white tiled floor, on your knees, head down�fucking shut up!!! No I don�t care if it�s messing your hair!!! Tongue out, rub the fucking floor with it!!! I smash your face into it, smash dull sickening thud and crack of malenky bone. Bastards! Who, with a urine sample jar of intelligence, cares about these attention seeking gapping 3-holed doll jizz skips?!?! Fuck �em and fuck �em all!!!! And besides, she looks just like one of those Sea Devils in 1970�s Jon Pertwee period Doctor Shmoo�would you stick your dick into a Silurian? Star Prak�s Vulcan T�pau (T�paw, T�poo�?), yes. Silurian, no. Bow-lacks!! Where�s your style? Your decorum? Wanna go where some Mr Nobody-but-he-can-kick-a-ball-around fist in Ulrika�s face super-ape has dumped his stick�n�ball dribble? Go for it then, desperate Dan. Remember to carve-up John Leslie afterward, cut �em all up�like regular tchicken (silent �t�), Cannibal Holocaust style. How dare they waste my precious time, dragging me into their squalid, lugubrious and overblown trivialities! Nasty lot.
Sainsbury�s was good today. But Waitrose was even better. I bought gifties for Maggie Ponce�s family to deploy in Madrid�I am fucking excited! Me no travel, you see. Don�t go anywhere in fact, �cept North Finchley, unlike �orrible Ulrika and toad-face JohnBoy. Famous now? Happy now? Yucketty-yuck-yuk-yuk. Croak.
For Maggie Ponce�s mum, Pepa, I bought 50 Williamson (Bennett, tee hee) & Magor (fine teas since 1869�) Earl Grey tea bags in a �keepable� silver tin and, for Antonio, Pepa�s boyfriend, I bought a Waitrose chocolate shortbread selection kit. Grandmother will receive a box of Bendicks (watch it!) mint chocolates�whether she likes it or not. I�m not playing games here!! Altogether now��Yum fucking yum!!� I know Pepa and Antonio are into good music so I might even do a cassette �disc-rape� (just shut your fucking whingeing Ulrika, you�re famous now so just fucking shut up!!!) of this here Litterbug CD-R that was so trustingly sent to me for review by your editor Myerk Roachly�hey, Marko, how about putting some page numbers in issue#2 of Sniper Glue? And a �letters to thee editor� page�whether or not you receive any, there should still be a page. Fill it with pics of contributors �hot� neighbour pin-ups, photos taken from frozen-framed TV footage by obsessed maniacs. Ideas? They ooze from my inflamed Cock-Soup dispenser.
Later�2.54pm
I just returned from my appointment with my Psychiatrist, Dr Linger. He didn�t, I went straight in and up, although not in the Max Cunting Clifford �publicist� sense. I�m doing fine! I told Dr Linger about the upcoming Madrid trip and showed him a copy of Gaze Into A Gloom #2, the recent issue of the Latvian industrial, ambient, gothic, Merje Lohmus/Mad Sister magazine containing 17 of my reviews. He seemed extremely interested which was a bit of a relief as I wasn�t sure if I should be pestering him with all this stuff�I just wanted to show him that I wasn�t laying about doing fuck-all all day. I�m sitting at a typewriter writing about fuck-all instead! Yeah, he seemed to be eye-glued, though not dicky-eyed, to the first �piece� of my GIAG contributions, namely my �Suicide Note� which attempts to convey my feelings as I was sinking into depression during the summer of 2001. Then, to my astonishment, Dr Linger asked if he could photocopy that page!!!! �To keep with your patients notes� or words to that effect. Down we go, p.copy done, and I�m happily sent away! Now, if you, all nine readers of Sniper Glue, will excuse GeroGary, I�ve just got to re-read that particular p.copied page, my own work I know, with it�s section of my Gerogerigegege �Saturday Night Big Cock Saleryman� CD review just to see exactly what Dr Linger will read, and try, impossible of course, to imagine his professional reaction and insight. Hey, I can hear something going on outside�a van�s pulled up�white coated figures, one of which seems to be carrying that looks like a basket weaving kit�
The old ones are usually the best, don�t you find? I�ll be forty fucking three next month.
And never judge a CD-R by its dismal cover. Litterbug�s �File Under�.Dead� (they couldn�t decide how many dot dot dots to use. I know the feeling well�) looks like it�s gonna be yet another Death Metal (might be good) / Nu Metal (pitiful shite, a noisy pest of a mongrel dog with no fucking teeth..or brain come to that) onslaught, with its mouldy fresh-grave-robbed green-out-of-negative face shot and terminator-like red eyes. But it�s not! Not at all. I�ve played this 5 or 6 times over now and I�ve rather got to like it. Jolly good!!
Slipping lewdly into well lubricated track 1, with not a dab of KY in sight, �A New Bolero� is a slow paced guitar sustain-pedal driven piece not disimilar to something I may or may not have heard on Gary Mundy�s Ruby Kennel Club CD, lots of effects but used, er, effectively. Not gratuitously, that is to say. Goodness, could this band actually have�what was that word we used to use? Ah! TALENT!! Could be. Could well be.
�The Garbage Man� goes surfing with your brain (says so) and spaces you out, man, with one of the 5 actually �sung� songs on this 15 track album, the others being mostly instrumental pieces, like one of my favourites here, track 3�s �Hoe Down Boogie�, a glittering cluster of chandelier glass tinkles and, Jesus fuckin� Christ I never thought I�d admit to this, but is that a Peter Gabriel riff I slooshy? That awful �Jump� song? Was it �Jump�? Fuckbust my simmering bowl disorder, it sounds superb here, with all that bass�n�shit, it is Peter Gabriel, isn�t it?
Next up we�ve got a cover of�well, whoever it was�s song �Lost In Music�, you know �caught in a trap, no going back��and all that. Nice treatment, just don�t do it again please.
Track 5�s �Ultramental� (no sarky comments please) could, again, well be �Ruby Kennel Club� inspired and egypto-guitar fired (eh?!) It�s the last resort of a sinking reviewer at 10.29pm when he�s busting to go for a crap. �The Here And Now� passes over my head somewhat, having little for me to latch onto, I�m glad it�s over whereas �Black African Woman� slowly and seductively draws you in, the warm bass massages your rump and kneads your loins, relaxing and soothing�Radox is hopeless. Funny, I always fancied a shot in the dark. Groan.
The tone now changes completely. You�d almost think it was another band. �Addicted To Noise� is your Litterbug post punk pop song, Buzzcocks/Jilted John and 20 others that I�ll most probably remember tomorrow�but that�s the closest I can get right now. It�s great�Alberto Y Lost Trios Paranoias? Nah!! �Blatant And Shameless�, track 9, completes the �A New Bolero� / �Ultramental� trilogy albeit with less impact than it�s predecessors although I suppose it does heat-up a little towards the end.
Now we�re onto something good� �Ode For Da Brudda�, this is what it�s all about, Litterbug�s defining moment, for this album anyway, a confident bass-at-the-helm rally drive with unidentifiable vocal samples held in place by a chugging beat and just the right amount of wow-wow-wah-wah effects�but, like my sexual performance, it�s all over before it�s begun. Maggie Ponce said I �couldn�t fuck a fly� and at 2 mins 48 secs this track is hardly anything to aspire to, so, I tell her that �it�s quality, not quantity�. My excuses are brutally and cruelly dismissed.
Track 11 �Coming Round Again� is all about problems�they�ve even sampled Johnny Rottens vocal �Problems� from �Never Mind The Bollocks� and it works well in this song, subtlety being the key. Original lyrics �I�ve got problems in my head, I�ve got problems getting out of bed� and �I�ve got trouble being alone, troubled by the death of Joey Ramone��hear that Mark? Juntaro? Terrific stuff! Why not get it made into a lathe-cut 7� by Peter King Records�(uh-uhh) if you can put up with a 14 month wait and a whole pack, literally a full fuckin� deck, of lies and excuses. We won�t be using him again, eh, Majorky Wriggley baby, ain�t that so?! Make it so, number one.
12��Won�t Fall Down�, a gentle atmospheric piece..that word �talent� keeps bouncing off the inside of my skull, rubber ball fashion, boing boing boing it fucking goes (boing as in Zebedee, not the Seattle based aircraft manufacturer). Another gem �Gouge Away� rears its head for fans of chug�a�chug�a�chug�a�chug early Public Image Limited Jah Wobble bass and guitar (lets face up to it, we are all fans of this, are we not? Oh.) and an orgiastic spaced-out organist drapped with a little night-driving-stretched-high-noted-axe. Yeah. �No Logo��that�s that book by some horny university educated trollop I saw one Channel 4 News Mayday riot discussion slot. Her pretty face crops up with these Anti-Globalisation events and is calming to behold (of course, she�s far too old looking for me�) It makes me wonder; who appears on Socratisation day then? Fucking no-one! I wanna be that man. A pleasant enough ditty.
The CD-R closes with �The Greatest Rock �n� Roll Suicide� a, by now, stereotypical Litterbugesque instrumental occasionally pierced by the recited words, not the actual voice of, J. Rotten and Malcolm McLaren from �The Great Rock �n� Roll Swindle� film. Funny, the Ceramic Hobs did something like this on, I don�t know, one of their umpteen releases��Straight Outta Rampton� possibly. I could be wrong, I could be right�more, if you close your eyes you could almost imagine this entire album has something to do with Simon Morris himself�nah, must be due to that �Blackpool underground� feel and the fact that I haven�t taken my medication yet.
If you read, and agreed with as I did, Timo�s �The Death Of Music, Part Two� piece in issue #1 of �Sniper Glue� then this CD-R could possibly be worth your while investigating. It isn�t �in your face� so much as �anaesthetise your urethra and slide in the flexible cystascope so as to see a different perspective on bladder and prostate gland that has been there, unseen, since cunt-sliding day.�
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(Review by Gary Simmons)