ISSUE 39
MAY 2008
We live in difficult times, my friends. Precarious and unsure. So, when all your phone calls are like distress flares, when the daily grind has slowly ground you down, when your farts don't even smell like your own anymore, DITCH your lifeless life and hitch a ride with HY!, where you�re merely another �exhausted atom in a grain of sand� (� Cathal Coughlan) - JUST LIKE THE REST OF US! This issue written by Mark Ritchie, Gary Simmons and Simon Morris. Thanks to Grant, Jim and Robert for providing reviewable stuff this month. HY! has a website. Why don�t you see if you can find it?
THIS IS YOUR LIFE
A school you hated,
friends who betrayed you,
bosses who exploited you,
lovers incapable of love,
mortgages and bank loans
weighing you down like anchors,
clothes you can�t afford yet can�t resist,
the steady acceleration of time,
the beatings, the beauties,
bruised purple sunsets and flaming red dawns,
missed chances, regrets,
lies, loves, losses,
screams and sirens,
chaos, castles,
dreams and derailments,
the shining certainty of youth,
the sad inevitability of decay.
This is your life
and it�s no different from mine or anyone else�s,
if you find any comfort in that.
THEY WAIT�
They wait in shadows
for the cocky, secure ladies men,
for the business bitches
or for anyone at all.
The colour of your skin does not trouble them,
nor do the contents of your heart.
All they require is hot, soft flesh
to plunge their blades into.
They�ll imagine you�re their father
or their teacher,
if the power of imagination is accessible to them.
And, as you lay bleeding, they�ll laugh
and their laughter will resonate forever,
through courtrooms, prisons and the flaming fires of Hell.
They wait in the shadows,
these cockroaches who will inherit
all the sadness of the earth.
GOD
Okay, here goes �
I don�t believe in Mohammed
or Jesus or Buddha
but I believe in God.
God as a power, a force,
an energy that�s in everything �
from the clouds in the sky
to the pen I�m writing with.
God is just a name, a word.
The power I�m thinking of
is beyond words,
beyond religions.
The power I�m thinking of
doesn�t promise salvation
or an eternity of virgins.
It�s vague, like life,
and I�m grateful for that
as I lie in the dark.
I�m grateful that I know nothing
yet believe in something,
however vague.
CAREER OPPORTUNITIES
People would rather be
sheep herders,
serial killers
chasers of the sun.
People would rather be
grave diggers
or lion tamers,
mad scientists
or pole dancers.
People would rather be
any or all of these things
instead of what they are.
BATTERIES
Human beings are like batteries,
they need recharging from time to time.
Here�s what does it for me �
my mother�s home-made soup,
a friendly voice,
the warmth of the sun,
the wagging tails of my favourite dogs,
a dark room with a soft bed,
�Hand in Glove�,
�Here Comes a Regular�,
the sight of wind turbines on the horizon,
telling me that I�m nearly home.
13.7 BILLION YEARS OF HELL
Selected Dispatches from an Unwilling Player of God�s Little Game
By Gary Simmons
�There�s always a very dangerous combination with young writers where they are both very very insecure and incredibly arrogant. He (Cho) seemed to have both of those things� � Lucinda Roy, Head of English, Virginia Tech University
Had a fuckin� GREAT time last night! Two pints in the Eagle across the road, one in Stratford after Roi got his �screens� and stuff from some drug accessory shop then, alone, one in the Fox and my cider. JOY!
*
My hair is in a RIGHT matted state. I�m thinking of giving it the chop but I want the Quentin Crisp excuse of �THEY did it to me�. M did it to me. Carlos/Gabby did it to me� not self-inflicted or done by my sis, which is the same as self-inflicted coz all I gotta do is ASK her (and PAY her. Well, I WOULD). I�m SICK of my ponytail. I don�t ever �use� it anyway. Not anymore. God, us girls and our HAIR! I ain�t ever gonna use the hairdryer on it anymore. Such a waste of time (AND electricity!)
*
Been on the phone to Bill and Sarah for two HOURS! Her ex-hubby, an accountant, nicked �20,000 from his firm�s credit card and left HER in the shit! Jess just asked me to the Fox but I�m staying IN!
*
Roi and Nina didn�t show. The fuzz took my cider. My mate Lucas is dead of a heroin overdose. Hobgoblin full of punks. Drank with Dennis and Jess, blew �50 on I-know-not-WHAT. Scarecrow came. Saw Short Bus Window Lickers (!) and two other bands at Boston Arms in Tufnel Park, Scarecrow passed out all gig long. I did vomit in bog. I got into a fight (I won!) Got vinyl �Lolita� soundtrack gatefold LP in HMV, �17. I�m in BED now!
*
Wendy Padbury (as Zoe Herriot� even the NAME Zoe gets me hot) was one of the first girls I ever fancied� but I didn�t know what it was, just some kind of starey fascination of their cuteness. She left �DOCTOR WHO� in 1969. I was nine. There was a girl in my class at Churchfields School called Kim Blake, and she looked a little like Zoe. I always found myself gawping at Kim but I just didn�t know WHY! Then Gabrielle Drake (as Lieutenant Gaye Ellis in �UFO�) came along with another similar look to Zoe and Kim. You can now buy a 6� figurine of Gaye in Model Zone. It�s an AWFUL resemblance. Just as well� This is from my copy of the 1973 Radio Times �DOCTOR WHO� 10th anniversary special (30p!!) Wonder if it�s worth much?
MUSIC
SUN KIL MOON � APRIL (CALDO VERDE)
A new album from Mark Kozelek is ALWAYS a cause for celebration in MY fucked-up little life, be it under his own name or that of Red House Painters or Sun Kil Moon. Even his albums of AC/DC and Modest Mouse covers managed to break my heart into a million tiny pieces and then put it back together again. This is Koz�s first album of entirely original material since SKM�s debut, the magnificent �Ghosts of the Great Highway�, and it doesn�t disappoint. The 11 songs here meander easily, in no rush to impose their melancholic magic on an ungrateful world. A couple (�Unlit Hallway� and �Moorestown�) are familiar from Koz�s recent-ish live album, while the beautiful �Lucky Man� was the breathtaking showstopper when he played Glasgow last Halloween (see HY!#34). Will Oldham�s occasional backing vocals and the bonus disc of alternative versions only make this album even MORE cherishable.
EELS � ELECTRO-SHOCK BLUES (DREAMWORKS)
Songs about mental illness, suicide and cancer don�t USUALLY make major record labels jump for joy and this was ESPECIALLY true when Mark �E� Everett turned �Electro-Shock Blues� in to the be-suited money men in 1998. They were hoping for more Top 40 hits like �Novocaine for the Soul�, not songs with titles like �Going to Your Funeral�, �Cancer for the Cure� and �My Descent into Madness�. E is a TRUE artist, you see, and wasn�t deterred by this reaction, as he KNEW that this was the album he HAD to make. It�s brilliant, of course, because the �experts� are ALWAYS wrong. It�s also surprisingly life-affirming (the final lyric is �Maybe it�s time to live�) and not nearly as bleak as it may sound and there are some truly lovely moments like �Climbing to the Moon�, �Dead of Winter� and �3 Speed� as well as ass-kicking rockers like the aforementioned �Cancer�� and �Last Stop: This Town�.
JASON ISBELL & THE 400 UNIT � LIVE AT TWIST & SHOUT 11.16.07 (NEW WEST)
I�ve not been having much luck seeing Drive-By Truckers and their ex-member Jason Isbell live AT ALL. The Truckers cancelled their Glasgow show earlier this year, only to reschedule it in EDINBURGH, a place I just cannot be arsed going to at the moment considering I have nowhere to crash anymore (my cousin having moved away and my mate Gary P having recently had a kid). Late night trains and me just DON�T mix (there�s a lovely Blue Nile song about them but the reality is FAR less romantic), so that�s THAT. And I didn�t even KNOW Jason Isbell and his 400 Unit were playing Glasgow recently until about three hours beforehand, and by THEN all I wanted to do after a week of work was to go home to my soft and cosy BED. So, this six-track live CD will just HAVE to make up for all that, won�t it? The five Isbell originals and Van Morrison cover are all WELL fuckin� tasty and I don�t even LIKE Van Morrison, the fat, old, humourless TWAT!
THE BREEDERS � MOUNTAIN BATTLES (4AD)
What can I say about Kim Deal? Well, for starters, she was my teenage bass pin-up whom I drunkenly shouted �I love you!� at during the aborted-after-three-songs 1991 Pixies gig at Glasgow�s SECC. Good job I�d calmed down a bit when I saw her play at the old Cathouse a few years later with The Amps, it being a small venue and all that. This album has moments of woozy beauty (�Night of Joy�, �We�re Gonna Rise�, �Here No More�), sublime rock (�Bang On�, �Walk it Off�, �It�s the Love�) and fancy foreign noodlings (�German Studies�, �Regalame esta Noche�). It�s kinda like meeting up with an old not-seen-for-years friend and being all nervous at first but not for long �cos they�re just as amazing/beautiful as ever. Kim Deal, �I LOVE YOU!�
CONTROL � ALGOLAGNIA (FREAK ANIMAL)
Before Robert Johnson went to the crossroads, before Simon Cowell turned every moron in the Western World into a slavering, vacuous wannabe pop �idol�, before all of THAT, there was NOISE. Primal howling, unearthly grunting, SCARY shit. This 2001 CD (whose title means �taking sexual pleasure in inflicting or enduring pain�) makes it its BUSINESS to take you back to those times, pummeling you with 11 tracks of such harshness and brutality that you come out the other side GRATEFUL for the experience and GRATEFUL that people wanna make records like this rather than coast along, all nice and docile, from office to karaoke bar to piss-stinking nursing home.
SOUTH SAN GABRIEL / CENTRO-MATIC � DUAL HAWKS (COOKING VINYL)
A double CD set from that sexy CUNT Will Johnson, who is just SO talented that he has TWO bands AND a solo career on the go all at once! He doesn�t spread himself thin, though, as these 23 songs prove. From the loose-limbed guitary joy of �Quality Strange� to the sleepy bliss of �When the Angels Will Put Out Their Lights�, he�s a talent to treasure until your last, long walk into the arms of the ocean.
GIGS
WHITEHOUSE / RAMLEH / DISSENTION � ELECTROWERKZ, LONDON, 5TH APRIL 2008
(by Gary Simmons)
WHAT A NIGHT! The night of the GODS! Well, all apart from Dissention, who were a trifle disappointing. Sorry Stefan, old bean. Went to a pub at Angel called The York, I think. Saw OMP Manowar Clive, handed out Merzbow/Sutcliffe J�gend/Satori flyers for Justin Cold Spring.
Went to the gig, saw Richo, Gaya, Mikey, Dennis and Jess. Did more flyering. Stayed for the Slimelight club till 7.30am and came out to SNOW! Gave out four HY!s, one to new mate Owen-of-Canada who came over from FRANKFURT with his nice chick, especially for the Whitehouse show and who then had to catch his flight back at 7am after which he faced a two hour drive from the airport� = a HERO! He�s also in a noise band called GRIEFER. Oh, and the underage girls at the club were fuckin� HOT! Try tellin� THAT to Camden�s cheap imitation posey �punk� puppet self-appointed guardians of morality! It weren�t like THIS in 1977.
THE BREEDERS � ABC, GLASGOW, 8TH APRIL 2008
Had my one remaining slice of pizza, cold, for breakfast then got ready and caught a bus into town. Had a coffee in the caf� before starting work at 8.30am. Alan wasn�t in, for some reason. Bought a bottle of water and a bar of chocolate from Sainsbury�s on my 10.30 break. At lunchtime, I went to Avalanche and got an Eels CD for �3.99. Saw Drunken Eyes walking up Buchanan Street. In the afternoon, I had some coaching with Linda and answered calls from various charming and charmless members of the Great British public. Bought some peanuts on my final break and was OUT of there at 5pm. Went to the �Shoe, which was quite busy. Drunken Eyes was in. Grant arrived and we sat at the bar and had a few drinks, G�s being soft. He also had a burger and chips, though I �helped� with some of the chips. He showed me his Black Flag hat and Daniel Johnston �Yip Jump Music� T-shirt and told me that the singer from J Church had died. The gents toilet was shut for refurbishment so everyone had to go upstairs, like the LADIES have to do. We went to the Brunswick next for one then, because the ABC hadn�t opened its doors yet, to the UCA bar for half a lager each. Then I bought a ticket for the gig, we checked out the merch stall and watched support act Jim Noir�s dull set. It�s the sort of music you just KNOW will prove popular at the summer festivals but failed to impressed US seasoned PROS! The bassist looked like Stuart from Mogwai in a wig and my old flatmate Kenny was part of the sound crew. The Breeders (whose impeccable intro music was Hank Williams) were GREAT, even though Kim Deal was dressed like she was about to make an appearance on �The Jeremy Kyle Show�. They threw in some fab older �hits� like �Tipp City�, �Divine Hammer� and �Cannonball� (of course) and played �Iris� RIGHT after I said to Grant �I hope they do �Iris�� (for his part, he was �made up� when they covered a Guided By Voices song). Whoo! It was a really nice atmosphere, laid-back and easy-going and Kim looked shy/sexy/sassy and I kinda fell in love a little bit. Had three pints of cider. Couldn�t BELIEVE there was an old black guy in the toilet, though, giving out paper towels and stuff. It was like we had gone back to the fucking 1920s or something. After the gig, Grant went to get his train and I went to the Halt for a cider. Needed to get out of the city centre as there were lots of scumbags about. Rang Joe at about 11pm to ask how his first day of work placement went. He�s doing it in a Citizens Advice place. It poured with rain when I was walking back. Got chips and was in at 11.45pm.
TREES � HALT BAR, GLASGOW, 22ND APRIL 2008
Had a few pints after work, in the �Shoe, Failte, Brunswick and the Halt. There were a few bands playing in the other bar and I heard one of them soundchecking. They sounded so good that I went in to watch. There was a cello, some avant-garde drums and a female singer who sounded like a cross between Diamanda Galas and Liz Frazer, doing all sorts of vocal gymnastics, so I stuck around to watch their set, downing a few ciders in the process. There were a lot of posh English boys with scarves hanging out of their pockets milling about� from one of the other bands, I assume. Looked like one of their dads was there, too. The place began to fill up and was pretty full when Trees started their set at about 9.25. There were a few bemused looks but people started getting into it. I spoke to a couple of the band members afterwards, basically to find out what they were called (they didn�t speak to the audience AT ALL). The singer, Lucy, said they have no recordings and no website, which I think is rather nice, actually, but she gave me her number and email address and I went home happy. Ish!
BOOKS
VARIOUS � NOT YOUR AVERAGE TYPE (CORE ARTS) www.corearts.co.uk
Here�s a snazzy 70-page book containing poetry, artwork and photography from several different people, NONE of whom are �famous�, but I can�t be the ONLY one who�s totally SICK of �famous� cunts, CAN I? The most interesting element of this is the accompanying CD which contains stuff both brilliant and bizarre: Frank Bangay�s Harold Steptoe-esque readings over background blues, Smiley�s tripping-over-itself poetry and HILARIOUS songs about �EastEnders� and drugs being crap (�they make you fat�) by Carl Mathews and Elaine Shapiro (I THINK. There�s no tracklisting as such), to name but a few. The whole thing reminds me somewhat of the documentary that Channel Four did a few years back about �Outsider Music� � people like Bingo Gazingo and BJ Snowden, who do their music/art because they NEED to, NOT because it�s going to make them FAMOUS.
ROB COLSON, MARTIN COOPER, TED CURTIS, ROBERT DELLAR, KEITH MALLINSON, EMMA McELWEE & LUCY WILLIAMS � SEATON POINT (SPARE CHANGE BOOKS)
Don�t let the seven-author credit fool you, this is a NOVEL, not a book of short stories. It�s a �multi-author� work that �was written as an attack on the cult of the individual author created by Western capitalism.� Ooh-KAY� You may think that the differing styles of the various writers would jar and distract the reader from the plot (which, although containing too many twists and turns to summarise, concerns the bizarre goings-on in a tower block in Hackney) but, surprisingly, they don�t. The only confusing aspect is the vast array of characters and trying to keep track of them all, although I should be used to that, having once been something of a James Ellroy fan. What we have here is bonkers sci-fi (drag-queen vampires, deranged wizards, mysterious gurus) meets gritty urban realism (squatters, bailiffs, cider-quaffing doleys) which, in places, is reminiscent of John Burnside�s rather fab �The Mercy Boys�.
NO SAGE WORDS OR TEA FOR ALICE �
Ceramic Hobs tour diary, March 2008 (by Ceramic Simon)
In October 2007, I turned 39 and celebrated with the busiest period of gigging I�d ever known � seven shows in two different countries with four different bands plus a day in the studio making a deeply peculiar and drug-addled record with Intravenous In Furs. I intended to write about this for HY! but then I was ill with flu in November, had another spate of gigs with the Ceramic Hobs and Smell+Quim in December, then was ill again (what the fuck was it with viruses this winter? Was it some kind of avian thing, or the result of having to smoke huddled outside in the cold? So many people I know got seriously ill), then was in the post New Year slump, and have pretty much forgotten most of what happened. So instead, here is a history of how the Hobs did nine shows over a few weeks recently.
Lytham Cricket Club
We get a booking to play at a girl�s birthday party in the function room at the cricket pavilion in this rather posh Lancashire town known for its retired colonels and old Tory blue-rinsers. Her dad is there and so is her hyperactive toddler son, in fact loads of kids are there dashing around and hiding under tables� shit, this isn�t right, all our songs are full of swearing and shouting and we wear hardly anything on stage! Better dose up on the �2.20 Becks at the bar. Support acts are a jam band playing endless dope-y, dubby variations of Hendrix riffs, also a cheesy rave DJ. Hardly anyone we know is there. I am pretty out of it by the time we come onstage, thankfully so is the crowd. Young ladies are swaying about trying to dance to our awkward sound, me and pStan try to get them to disrobe by offering a prize of a "real Parker pen� for the person to remove most items of clothing, I keep turning nasty and shining a powerful strobe light right in their faces while screaming� at the end some bloke with a child in his arms says �You�ve scarred my daughter for life�, I think he was laughing though. The birthday girl�s dad, a nice old fella, asks me to sign an album for his grandson � that is a new experience. Meanwhile the birthday girl has moved throughout the evening from friendliness to wild dancing to hugging strangers and when we leave, her friends are trying to coax her down from a table. We hear that later she tried to steal a bottle of Jack Daniels from behind the bar, threatened the staff and is now banned from the premises for life. This is the kind of behaviour we like to encourage! Thanks for the gig, Emma.
(to be continued next issue)
WHAT�S IN THE BAG, CHARLIE?
His pint of lager was on the bar waiting for him, as usual, when Charlie walked into the place at 5.30pm. He took his first grateful sip as Jeb looked up from his Daily Star.
�Alright?� Jeb enquired. �What�s in the bag? Going away for the weekend?�
Charlie had a large sports bag slung over his shoulder, which was unusual because he didn�t usually carry such a thing around. Not least because it had been years since he had played any sport.
�Aye, well,� Charlie said. �Going away might not be such a bad idea. I had a row with my boss.�
�Again?�
�Correct. This one was bad, though. I totally flipped.�
�What happened?�
�Well, put it this way, I don�t think I�ll be welcome back. Fuck it, though. The wee prick had it coming and I�ve been sick of the place for ages. Time for a change.�
Charlie had been working in a butcher shop for the past couple of years, ever since being sacked from his bus driver�s job for drinking on duty.
�What was it about this time, the row?�
�Och, just the usual shite. Coming back late from my lunch break, not smiling at customers. The cunt thinks he�s running a concentration camp, not a crappy wee butchers.�
�You�ll miss the money, though.�
�Hah!� Charlie snorted. �That shitty pittance! I�d probably be better off signing on the dole. Fuck it, I�m getting a whiskey. Fancy one?�
It was another hour or so before Sam showed up, by which time both Charlie and Jeb had downed several whiskies and lagers.
�Alright, ya old fucker? You�re late tonight,� Charlie said. �Want a drink?�
�Charlie,� Sam replied, solemn-faced, �what the hell did you do to your boss? I heard they took him to hospital, that he�s really fucked-up.�
�Oh well, at least the grapevine�s in fine working order, I see!� Charlie said. �Do you want a whiskey or not?�
�Aye, go on then,� Sam said, positioning his briefcase on the floor between his legs. �What�s in the bag?�
The bulky sports bag was still slung around Charlie�s neck.
�I�ve asked him that about five fuckin� times,� Jeb said. �He won�t tell me. Won�t take it off, either. I think the cunt�s hiding something.�
�I�ll hide your arse in a minute, if you�re not careful,� Charlie said as three shots of whiskey were set up on the bar. �Cheers!�
The friends drank a toast and then Sam turned serious again.
�Honestly, Charlie, I heard he�s really bad. What did you do to him? There�s all kinds of rumours flying round.�
�For fuck�s sake! It�s like a sewing circle in here. All we ever do is gossip about this and bitch about that. Everybody always sticking their nose into everybody else�s business. I�ve had it up to here! With the fuckin� LOT of you!�
Charlie took his bag and walked out of there, leaving Sam and Jeb to finish their drinks in silence. There wasn�t anything else to say.