(The paper edition of this zine came out on August 3rd 2004. This is the crappy, un-artistic web-shite version. No pictures. No style. Nothing. Just the TEXT. If you would like a PROPER, paper copy of this issue please email [email protected])
Is it me or are TV adverts getting more annoying these days? At the moment, the ones which annoy the fuck out of me the most are the Direct Line insurance ones. There�s the �I�ve had a nasty prang in my car� one (who fuckin� talks like THAT?) where the bored telephonist bitch daydreams she�s in �Charlie�s Angels� instead of sitting in an office arranging motor insurance for dull twats who use words like �prang�.. and there�s the other one with the guy doing the same, imagining he� some sort of James Bond figure instead of a low-paid office cunt. The old Direct Line ones used to irritate me no end as well � the ones with that sickening couple driving about in their swanky car, bragging about how low their car insurance was. The Yes car credit ads make me wanna punch the TV screen too with the screechy-voiced green body-warmer clad cow screaming �Yes, you could!� all the time as other useless out-of-work actors wander about in the background pretending to look as if they�re about to cum in their pants �cos they�ve got a new car � even though they�re �30,000 in debt and their bungalow�s been repossessed. If these adverts are designed to annoy and infuriate then they�re doing a great job. At least the Esure ones with Michael Winner are funny and take the piss out of the whole concept of TV ads. And what about all those ones telling you to sue the arse off anyone at all if you have an accident? They LOOK rather tempting, on the surface. Free money! But, of course, all these nice companies with their �no win, no fee� taglines are implying that if you DO �win� then they take a massive fee. And there�s not even any mention of where the money you �win� comes from � it�s the tax payer (which is all of us) so you�re not really even �winning� because the price of everything sky rockets to make up for the greedy bastards who�ll sue someone as soon as look at them. Oh how we Brits used to laugh at those silly Americans who were always suing everyone and now we�re EXACTLY the same. It also seems that they show all the most annoying ads during the day.. targeting the old and the unemployed. It�s a well-known fact that poorer people give more money to charity than richer people, so that�s why we get all the emotional blackmail charity pleas during the day. Having worked for a charity myself, I know that they don�t give a shit about where the money comes from � as long as it DOES come. They don�t care if some wee granny is depriving herself of food just so she can chuck a few quid in the direction of some stupid dog charity. �Just �2 a week� they tell you. Well, that�s a pint of lager, mate, so you can shove your charity up your arse. Why not ask all the fat cat cunt businessmen who award themselves and each other massive pay rises every fortnight? �Cos you know they ain�t gonna dip into THEIR pockets and, if they won�t, why should us doley losers do it? Every street now is filled with charity workers (I used to think they were unpaid � but are they FUCK) wanting to drain your bank account. It�s like an assault course, trying to dodge them all. NO WONDER people are giving less and less to charity. It�s a non-stop, day-in, day-out, never-ending procession of fuckers asking you for money.. either on your telly or in the street. Eventually you just have to say �enough�.
EURO 2004 ENGLAND MATCH REPORT #1 � June something 2004
They were winning all the way through then they lost! HA HA HA!
EURO 2004 ENGLAND MATCH REPORT #2 � June 21st 2004
OK so I�m a bit depressed �cos Engerland are 3-1 up against Croatia and it�s not �cos I hate Engerland, it�s just the smug, satisfied footie commentators who are forever crowing about how great the team are I despise. We�re still hearing about 1966 � when Engerland won some trophy or other � to this day. It�s the #1 reason most Scots/Welsh/Irish want the English team to fail in everything � not �cos we hate the people or the country but just �cos we hate the non-stop bragging about it. I actually fucking hate ALL football teams and ALL countries and ALL everything that�s generalistic and jingoistic and Basil Brush-istic. I look at these red and white clad twats on TV and I wish I could feel as happy as they look. It wouldn�t happen if Scotland were playing, either. I�m just seemingly incapable of that �All Together Now� shit. I don�t feel proud. I feel ashamed. I wish I COULD be one of those live-for-the-moment cunts in their stupid hats and with their painted faces. But, then, I bet most of them are gonna go back to their shop-floors and their supermarkets and their sad and normal lives � just like me. And oh no, Engerland have just scored again � in this game of universal dullness. It�s 4-2 now and, believe me, we�re NEVER gonna hear the end of this. TV, radio � every form of media � will be filled with this �national� victory for days (me? I�m just looking forward to the Channel 4 documentary about bestiality later. Now THAT�S something we can ALL relate to. Right?!). The endless replays.. the smiling faces.. the national pride. It�s all shit. It�s all Nazism. I feel the same way about Scottish victories (yeah, I know they don�t happen often, cunt!) Wish I COULD feel that pride those mindless, moronic thousands LOOK like they�re feeling. I�m just sitting here, adrift, cidered-up, music on.. a football widow without a husband, a Jim Thompson reading, Space Raiders eating, pink shirt wearing waste of space cadet.
EURO 2004 ENGLAND MATCH REPORT #3 � June 24th 2004
7.45pm and I�ve been drinking cider for the past 3 hours and I�ve not even got the TV on BBC1 to watch Engerland vs Portugal. I�ve got ITV on � �The Bill� � with the sound down and a Paul Westerberg CD playing. It�s been on everything from �The Wright Stuff� to �Richard & Judy� today � �Can WE do it?� etc. Even that fuckin� twat Uri Geller was on, telling everyone to WILL �the boys� to win. God. That�s a great guy to have on your side. Michael Jackson�s mate. Brilliant, eh? He claims he made Scotland miss some penalty a few years back �cos he was in a helicopter, hovering over the pitch or something. Well, that�s another reason in the long list of reasons to hate him. He�s not even English. He�s just trying to be liked by the local yobs who stick dog-shit through his letter-box. It�s not gonna work, Uri. The whole world and it�s goldfish KNOWS you�re a cunt. Uri cunt. Ha ha.
OK, so I�ve got to watch SOME of this game eventually, so here goes nothing.. turned it over (it�s an ad break in �The Bill�) and oh no.. Engerland are up 1-0, after 13 minutes. I�m gonna get rat-arsed tonight and NOT for the same reason Ken Bruce was talking about on Radio 2 this morning, that 9 million are gonna be off sick tomorrow. This is too, too much to bear. Just noticed the game�s on Channel 5 as well. What the fuck? What about that classic film they were due to show � �Father�s Day� with Robin Williams and Billy Crystal?!? (Oh no, I was mistaken � they must have been only showing a clip of it on the news.. Sorry!)
8.39pm and it�s � time now and I�ve watched about 5 seconds of this game but they�ve just helpfully put up a caption saying �Sloppy defending� during this replay so THAT�S illuminating, eh?! I�m just waiting for �Mastermind� to come on �cos someone�s specialist subject is punk and new wave music! Like, wow! I�m playing some band called Shy Rights Movement now and, I dunno who they are, but the �singer� can�t even sing! Only noticed just now that Michael Owen scored Engerland�s goal. Isn�t he WELSH? Hope he feels ashamed, I really do. And Wayne Rooney is Irish!! It�s like John was telling me yesterday in the pub how he�s bought an Engerland top and has been wearing it to the pub when their games are on. He�s not English either, just a wind-up merchant! And, oh yeah, Gazza was doing a book signing in Glasgow today � it was on the news. He came across as unbelievably nice (and fucked-up) on his �Richard & Judy� interview the other day. He was on 3 bottles of whiskey a day!
I�ve got this game on now (at 9.03pm, time fans) and just find it all so beautifully pointless. All these guys running about and exerting themselves for WHAT? (Well, thousands of quid a week for ONE thing..) I know.. I just don�t �get� it.. I mean, it�s actually a bit beautiful watching the skillful moves and all that. Like ballet or something. But I�m only saying that �cos I�m now on cider #7. I LOVE FOOTIE! I LOVE ENGERLAND! (Um, I�m kidding.)
So excited there, I forgot to watch �Mastermind�. It�s on now. The punk/new wave geezer is on and he LOOKS like he�s into that shit! What a hero! And he�s scored loads! 16 points and only 1 pass! What a star! This is almost as exciting as when someone�s specialist subject was The Smiths! (I was cumming my pants, believe me!) I want THIS guy to win more than Engerland. (And OH YES! Portugal have equalised! Fan-friggin�-tastic!) And now OH NO! �Cos, at 9.40-ish pm this shit is back on and they must need someone to win or else it�s gonna go on forever. Can�t say I understand this but, then, I�ve got the sound turned down so what do I expect?
14 minutes in now and this is tortuous. At least I�ve got some good music on (Richmond Fontaine) so I can�t hear the commentator twats. Can�t they go to penalties or something? Hey, the Portugal coach is pretty hot! Now (at 10.01pm) Portugal are winning 2-1 and you CANNOT believe how joyous it feels. This is becoming such an anti-English rant, ain�t it? But YOU (assuming �you� are English) don�t know how much the rest of the UK is sick of your fuckin� shit. Andrew was telling me the other day how everyone�s got St George flags up everywhere. If you had an England flag up HERE you�d probably be shot!
And NOW Engerland have scored again, so it�s 2-2 and HOW long is this fuckin� game gonna go on? Till everyone�s DEAD?
Oh, no, it�s all over now � at 10.12pm but NOW it�s gone to penalties and ain�t everyone bored to death by now? Obviously not. I�m in the minority here. Beckham�s missed one � by about 30 feet � ha ha! And some Portugese guy�s scored! This is GREAT! Owen�s just scored now. Shame on you, Welsh boy!
And now, FINALLY, at 10.30pm, I can reveal that Engerland LOST! Fuckin� EXCELLENT! I am a Portugese lover! Scotland is rejoicing! Just got a text from Dave saying �What a shame! Ha ha� EXACTLY! Now my cider is finished and I�m gonna open my red wine. Goodnite all my English readers. Forever. (Nah! I know none of you are as sad as that.. I love you all! All my children!)
COMPACT DISC THINGIES
A GIRL CALLED EDDY � self titled (ANTI) www.agirlcallededdy.com
First of all, I�m disgusted to report that, although I got this for �9.97 in Music Zone, Borders were selling it for �16.99!! That is just fucking GREED and I don�t even know why I�m surprised. Right, enough of THAT little moan.. this is the debut CD from New York�s E. Moran, although it was recorded in sunny Sheffield with some guy who used to be in Pulp. Don�t let THAT put you off, though, �cos this is a lovely, deep, dark sigh of a disc which I�ve heard compared to everyone from Burt Bacharach to Karen Carpenter. So we ain�t talking about any weedy indie shit here. Although there are moments of great beauty throughout, nothing really prepares you for the final song, �Golden�. It�s a classic! Gorgeous, mellow piano chords, sultry, full-blooded 3am vocals, lyrics of hope and despair, lap steel.. it�s all going on here. There are more upbeat moments too � �The Long Goodbye� is a great melancholic pop number � but Eddy REALLY shines on the many ballads on offer here. �Kathleen� adds to the canon of classic songs with that title (the others being by Townes Van Zandt and American Music Club) � it�s a heartfelt tribute to a passed-away loved-one. �Somebody Hurt You� is truly beautiful. And songs like �Girls Can Really Tear You Up Inside�, �Heartache� and �People Used to Dream About the Future�.. well, the titles alone say it all! The only problem with a debut this strong is how to follow it and maybe A.G.C.E never will. Maybe, like Edith Frost, she�ll only disappoint after a masterful first album. But who cares when she�s made something this special? Most people don�t even make ONE record as good as this, so I�ll forgive her anything, forever.
THE STREETS � A GRAND DON�T COME FOR FREE (VICE/ATLANTIC)
www.the-streets.co.uk
A UK hip-hip concept album is something you don�t hear every day, and maybe that�s a GOOD thing. But, actually, this is really entertaining music for washing-up/cooking to. Starting off with a track in which the narrator experiences a really bad day where he loses a thousand quid (assuming one of his �mates� has nicked it) and also has to deal with the horrors of long bank queues and flat mobile phone batteries, there are also songs dealing with the subjects of gambling (�Not Addicted�) and shitty drug experiences (�Blinded by the Lights�). I�m sure most people have heard the 1st single, the alarmingly bouncy/hilarious �Fit But You Know It� by now and the new single, �Dry Your Eyes� was recently Ken Bruce�s single of the week on Radio 2 (which caused much uproar from a lot of listeners!) The last track is probably my favourite, just because it�s really 2 songs in 1. The 1st is the nightmare conclusion to the LP�s story; the narrator drowning in self-pity and cans of Special Brew and getting the shit kicked out of him by a TV repair man. The 2nd version of the song is the HAPPY ending, where he�s STILL well into the Special Brew but lays off on the self-pity and makes up with his mates and finds out what actually REALLY happened to the missing grand of the title. I won�t spoil it for you by telling you the pay-off but suffice to say, this LP keeps you entertained all the way through. And where else will you find a song called �Such a Twat� but here?
RICHMOND FONTAINE � LOST SON / WINNEMUCCA www.richmondfontaine.com
Finally managed to �find� this great band�s old LPs (not, alas the originals, but some kind soul downloaded them all off the magical internet for me � I WILL buy them, though, when they�re re-issued later this year. Oh yes I will!) There are actually 4 LPs but that�s quite a lot to plough through all at once so I�m taking it slowly, like going out on a couple of dates with someone before you end up fucking their brains out). �Lost Son� (released in 1999) is quite punky in places, alluding to RF�s love of classic �80s bands like X and H�sker D�. But only in places. At other times it�s as plaintive (with the swooning pedal-steel to the fore) as lovers of their latest �Post To Wire� release have come to know and adore. The lyrics tell of wishing to escape one�s surroundings in bars and casinos, but there are also several incidents of extreme violence on show which may not be immediately apparent on 1st listens. �Cascade� is the story of a kid who is robbed by his step-brother and his mate and left to die in an isolated country spot. Spooky stuff but, no matter how dark some of these tales get (and they DO resemble short stories or poems rather than song lyrics in the conventional sense), Willy Vlautin�s compassionate voice lets you know that he�s on the side of the good guys. 2002�s �Winnemucca�, named after a gambling town in Nevada, is a close cousin of �Post To Wire�. Great songs abound, but the last 2 tracks are truly amazing. �Five Degrees Below Zero� is THE story Carver never wrote. It tells of a character called Ray Thaves on a Greyhound bus at 2am, going back to stay with his uncle in Las Vegas and all of the lost and lonely people he sees on the bus. At the end of the song, he leaves the bus in the middle of nowhere and walks off alone into the desert, to an unimaginable fate. Wow. Final track, �Western Skyline�, is the true story of Vlautin�s uncle, who died in a shooting accident. The lyrics are the imagined conversation between the dying man and his friend who held him as he bled to death. Knowing this is what the song is about makes it unbearably haunting and beautiful. There�s no other band around writing songs like this. They�re coming back to the UK for an Autumn tour. If you�ve got a soul you should try and see them.
MAGNETIC FIELDS � I (WEA/ATLANTIC/NONESUCH) www.houseoftomorrow.com
It would be really easy to hate Stephin Merritt, the guy behind Magnetic Fields, if I didn�t like him so much. I mean, releasing a triple CD called �69 Love Songs� (which took in every conceivable songwriting style from Noel Cowerd-esque witty ditties to melancholic chamber pop) was a REALLY fucking smart-arse thing to do. And so is calling an album �I� where the �theme� is that every song title begins with the letter �I�. Like I said, what a smart-arse! He�s a really accomplished songwriter and player, though, with a deep baritone brought on by endless chain-smoking. Also, he�s one of the very few writers in � for want of a better term � �indie rock� writing from an openly gay perspective and THAT is quite interesting in itself. Faves here include �I Don�t Believe You�, �I Wish I Had An Evil Twin� (sample line: �Evil�s not my cup of tea�!!) and �Is This What They Used To Call Love?� (a beautiful, 4am ballad which also seems to be the favourite track of every record shop I�ve heard this played in). Sometimes you�re left wondering if Merritt�s writing is all style and no substance (ie: does he really MEAN it, maaaan) but, actually, it doesn�t HONESTLY matter very much because it�s really, really good and witty and fun to listen to and there�s not many things you can say THAT about, is there?
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF MAGGIE PONCE, ACT I
(Maggie stands by the cashpoint waiting for a guy to finish transactioning. A beggar sits by cashpoint)
Beggar (with humble tone, to the guy): Spare some change, please.
(The guy finishes and gives him �1 (1 fucking �!!) then leaves with a smile as if he did the good action of the day. Maggie starts her transaction. Beggar is by Maggie�s legs)
Beggar (with humble tone to Maggie): Spare some change, please.
(Maggie ignores him and carries on)
Beggar (with nasty voice): Oooh! You look good from down here.
Maggie (carrying on): Fuck off.
Beggar (same): You really do look good from down here.
Maggie (carrying on with transaction): Wank over it then.
Beggar (surprised): What? (moments of silence) Anyway, you look very
good from down here, I still think.
Maggie: Fuck off.
(Maggie finishes, positions herself opposite beggar and, looking into his eyes, says, with upset and authoritary tone, clear for all..)
Maggie: And you still expect people giving you change?
Beggar (humble): I don�t expect any..
Maggie (loud and walking off): Fuck OFF!!
FIN
Thanks to Maggie Ponce for writing the above. You know, my moods fluctuate so much. One minute everything feels like a dull ache, sounds distort, there seems a uselessness and despair to everything. Then I can suddenly feel totally differently. I don�t think it�s as extreme as manic depression but it�s in a similar ball-park. I suppose all of us have to take our joys when and where we can find them. I find music helps a lot of the time. I�d even go as far as to say it�s actually saved my life at times. Similarly with alcohol, but that can really fuck you up pretty easily if you�re not careful (and, a lot of times, even if you ARE). At least music doesn�t become a physical addiction like alcohol or drugs but it certainly becomes a psychological one. Sometimes I�m disgusted at the sheer amount of music I own. It�s grown over the years, of course and has, I feel reached ridiculous proportions. But it IS like I�m addicted to it. I find it very, very difficult to throw anything away, especially music. I�ve had a big list of my old records on the internet for a couple of years now, but I put really silly prices on most of them, almost willing people NOT to buy them! But, when a lot of people did, I could actually justify selling them without bringing TOO much mental pain on myself. I didn�t REALLY need that Boy Hairdressers 12� as much as I needed �100, did I? Answer = no I didn�t! But it�s still difficult to let go of certain items. I�m not like my friend Stephen, who is forever throwing his things away. It seems like he doesn�t develop that connection that I�ve always felt towards my own possessions. I really envy that, actually. It was never a big problem for him to move house, for example, whereas I�ve progressively needed bigger and bigger vehicles on each of my successive moves. I AM getting a little better at all this, throwing things like old magazines away, etc (but I still cut out any articles I want to keep!) It�s about down-sizing your belongings, I suppose and I know that you do feel great when you�ve chucked a load of useless shit out or given it to charity, etc. When John recently moved into the flat I�m staying in, he only had 2 plastic bags, a TV and a guitar (and those last 2 items had only been given to him that day!) I don�t want to have THAT little, though, possession-wise. I think it�d be really sad to lose personal things like photos, letters, etc. You know, the kind of things that CAN�T be replaced. But I know I�ve got far too many crappy records, so if anyone wants to help me get rid of some, please visit www.geocities.com/srmband/forsale.html. Alternatively, of course, you could come round and burgle me.
Diary Of Recent Tour Debacles 2000-03 (part 1)
by L. Eugene Methe
Foreword, 7/3/04
Tour diaries can be very boring. I have read quite a
few: most concern themselves with meals, who had the
most luck in pinball, etc. (Maybe they make me feel a
little depressed as well, for they always write with
enthusiasm about new bands...while the constant
barrage of music is one of my least favourite aspects
of touring. I feel sometimes as if I have lost a loved
one, but perhaps that love will return when living in
a better environment).
For this diary, I have tried to instead focus on other
points, but I'm not sure if my memories (which I have
finally put to paper years later) will hold any
interest to those who were not there. Frankly,
thinking about some of the shows, it all seems a bit
bleak, reinforcing the bittersweet nature of travel
via tour, the loneliness of life both and off the
road. And although I yearn to do it again, I don't
think I should or will.
So, now that the customary/tedious apology is out of
the way, I will continue on...before the memories are
completely forgotten, dusted over in the growingly
barren landscape of my mind.
February 2000 "Verbal Objects" West Coast Tour with
SIMON JOYNER
This was really an exciting two weeks: an honor
playing fiddle, piano, and drums for Mr. Joyner. The
set list was large and dynamic, drawing from every one
of his albums.
Denver, Colorado @ Lion's Lair 2/8/00
First shows of a tour tend to be a little rough...
We had a quick stop in nearby Boulder for an on-air
interview at the college radio station, where I became
smitten with the station mananger, Michelle. I was
reminded of her just a few weeks ago, when I opened up
my copy of Middlemarch and a Polaroid she took of an
ashtray fell out. Scribbled on the back is "The
Cigarette Stands Alone". It brought back a rush of
fond memories.
The Lion's Lair is a very spotty dive accustomed to
music of the rawk variety. Immediately upon entering,
a haggard, older woman wearing a Denver Broncos cap
called out: "Hey hairy! Get over here and sit next to
me!"
I politely declined, mentioning that there was
equipment I had to lug in.
"What's the matter?" she asked, grabbing her mammoth
breasts. "Are my tits too saggy for you?!"
I consumed a number of draws of Pabst Blue Ribbon
while chatting with Michelle, while an audience of
about 15 people gathered (most coming in from
Boulder).
Both Simon and I are slightly tone deaf and were
especially out of tune that night. (We purcahsed a
guitar tuner the next morning: considering how often
he tunes his guitar, i'm sure its battery will last at
least five years.)
There was some fratrock band from Colorado Springs
playing, whose contract guranteed them 100% of the
proceeds from the door--same as Simon's. The bar owner
was prettty confused, and left it up to us to sort out
the problem. Later, he and one of his cronies sat
right in front and heckled me the entire performance,
calling out "Hey Fag" over and over. (I guess because
I was wearing a pink sweater). I quickly grew rattled,
but Simon was composed as always, and chose an extra
long set of slow, somber songs--closing with the 15
minute + epic "The Passenger". It felt like we were on
stage for an eternity, and might have felt even longer
for those in attendance. I was pretty happy to finally
put the set to rest.
Afterwards, the owner placed a shot of whisky and pint
of beer at my feet. It was much appreciated. Actually,
God bless 'em. It's been said that I enjoy boos much
more than applause. It had been a long time since I
had been heckled. (Since an ill-advised hippie
festival in 1999 when I was beaned repeatedly with
volleyballs and hackeysacks. I guess they didn't take
to my lecture on Naturalist writers, and how heredity
had failed them...)
Anyway, back to Denver: the old woman staggered up to
me, and felt a need to apoligize for her earlier
behavior. "I'm sorry--I didn't know you were a
musician." I was even more confused as she sullenly
slurred: "It's just not right." Was this some sort of
social comment?
Later, I was the one slurring, rambling incoherently
for the entire hour-long drive back to Boulder with
Michelle and her roomate. O' Michelle. Where are you?
The remainder of the tour was very satisfying, with
good turnouts and good company. We played a show with
Refrigerator and Franklin Bruno, which still ranks as
the greatest night of music i've ever witnessed in
Claremont. In Portland, I spent hours in the mighty
Powell's Bookstore and bought a suitcase of used
books...I sent an ill-conceived letter from
Sacremento...The only real low-point was the show in
Eugene, Oregon...a town which should be bulldozed.
(part 2 in the next issue)