issue 8
october 2005
this issue mainly written by mark ritchie, with contributions from gary simmons (where stated) [email protected] for a paper copy of this BOLLOCKS
Hiroshima Yeah! hits the road..
Dear readers,
It�s Monday, 5th of September 2005, 11.50am and I�m sitting in Coopers Bar in Glasgow�s Central Station with a pint of �2.50 Carling (the slowest pint I�ve EVER had poured!) Just scoffed a veg sausage roll and it�s less than one hour till my train to Euston. This is my first holiday in YEARS. I don�t go ANYWHERE and I am SICK of it! It seems to be matriculation day here as zillions of identi-kit kids who all looked like members of McFly were swarming all over the subway (that�s why I got the bus!) Sparks play on the bar radio.. Oh no, it�s that twat from The Darkness COVERING Sparks!
TOTALLY fucked up when I was shaving my head last night (my attempt to look just like Michael Chikliss in �The Shield�!) The clippers decided to stop working halfway through, so I was left with a circus freak/mental patient haircut. Fuck! I dismantled the clippers and cleaned out all the clogged-up hair and STILL the fuckers wouldn�t work! Guess they must be blunt now.. like that cunt who�s just been at number one in the shit parade! Still, over five years of loyal service ain�t bad, is it? After trying in vain to manually �do� the rest of my head with a normal razor, I had to call for my mother�s assistance. It was 10.45pm but luckily she wasn�t asleep. It was a bit embarrassing, asking your mother to shave your head, but at least it looks okay now. I just look like a Nazi, dressed as I am all in black.. as long as I don�t look like a fuckin� GOTH!
12.09pm and I�m sitting next to the most boring people on earth. ��1.30 for a tea bag?!� �What will you do when you get to Blackpool? Get something for your dinner?� �I watched �Hollyoaks�, �River City� and then T4 � I�ll miss all those when I�m away�.. GOD! Still, I�m beginning to get a bit excited now. Travel usually gives me a (not so) cheap thrill!
12.32pm and I�ve just boarded this pokey little Virgin train and found my reserved seat, facing in the opposite direction to which I�m travelling! Oh GREAT! This isn�t a good omen. Still, I�ll get my walkman on, ready for �lift off� at 12.47!
The announcer is breaking up, Norman Collier style, but I could make out that our ETA is 5.28pm. Only three stops! Couldn�t QUITE make out which was the �quiet� carriage where you�re not allowed to use mobile phones or walkmans.. Well, I�ve ALREADY used my phone, so FUCK IT! Do quiet carriages also ban American tourists.. the loudest cunts on EARTH!?
1.13pm. We just stopped for five whole minutes there. Next to a lovely picture-esque cornfield, mind you. I hate it when trains do that.. Y�know, I think this IS the quiet carriage, �cos there�s none of the interactive radio and TV and shit you�re MEANT to get on Virgin trains. Still, no one�s said anything about my walkman.. NOT YET!
2.02pm and I have painted my face red and white for I am on Engerlish soil once more! Carlisle, to be exact. Two of our three SCHEDULED stops! A woman�s mobile keeps ringing, so at least I�m not the ONLY one flouting the laws of the quiet carriage (if, indeed, this even IS the quiet sodding carriage!)
2.09pm and I�m not getting a fuckin� signal on my phone now! What the hell is going on? Can �they� put a block on your signal or something? Richard Branson may have signed the Pistols but he�s still a CUNT. My useless, VIRGIN phone, on a useless VIRGIN train! Sweet irony! This makes me wanna open the half bottle of Buckfast packed in my bag!
2.46pm and something horrible�s just occurred to me.. when my aunties were recently in London, THEIR phones didn�t work AT ALL. Are there such things as local networks only? In which case, maybe my phone is useless here? That�s a REALLY scary thought, considering I�m relying on it to be in touch with my �hosts�, who I�m MEANT to be staying with and my uncle, who I�m SUPPOSED to meet. Shit! Looks like my �I don�t give a fuck� attitude to technology will be my downfall!
3.08pm After messing about with my phone and finding all sorts of shit about networks and passwords I didn�t even know were THERE, I at least managed to make a call � albeit only to hear how much my �airtime balance� is (seems like my mum got that �10 worth of credit I asked her to get me) � but I still can�t send texts and I�m WORRIED. This is RUINING my journey!
3.14pm Just �successfully� rang Gary�s phone a couple of times. WHAT is going on? Why can I NEVER have just a nice, pleasant, uncomplicated time? EH?!
3.21pm I�ve decided to stop thinking about it. We�ve just passed through Wigan! Ooh!
4.18pm Just passed Tamworth! Where Nick Drake lived and is buried! Fucking WOW! Still unable to send that soddin� text. Good job I told Gary and Maggie when my train was due in. Will have to do some experiments to see if I can use my phone AT ALL. Don�t see why I SHOULDN�T be able to.. Modern technology and all that.. Oh, I don�t know. Sometimes I wish we were still back in the good old days of red, vandalized phone boxes.
4.28pm Phew! Looked as if we were about to stop in Nuneaton there. The train slowed down to a snail�s pace and the people standing on the platform looked like a RIGHT bunch of inbred fucks! Someone sneezes now.. in the �quiet carriage�. Some KID has his iPod on too. My walkman is off, �cos I felt like �enjoying the silence� (was that a Depeche Mode song or am I going mad due to lack of sleep/booze?) One hour till London!
5.12pm Nearly there and the �tropical� weather Gary promised doesn�t look very promising.. Unless there�s a bio-sphere around Central London or something. I can categorically state that the weather�s been pretty much consistently shit over the whole country (well, what I�ve seen of it, anyway. The Lake District was the worst!)
..and that�s when I stopped writing. I got off the train at about 5.35, at Euston, expecting Gary and Maggie to be there waiting for me. When they WEREN�T, I rang Gary (luckily my phone now worked!) and he said they were waiting further up the platform. I found them, said hello, etc, and off we went to get me an �11 weekly bus pass. It was fucking BOILING in the station, so I was glad to get outside. The weather WAS nice and sunny, actually, so perhaps there really IS a bio-sphere around Central London after all! We went into the Head of Steam pub, which is where I played a gig with my band Librarian back in 1992 (it was called the Euston Rails back then). We sat in a bit of the pub where the stage used to be! Had a pint each. I had a nice, welcoming Westons. Dished out the presents. Maggie seemed to like her cuddly bear! We watched an extremely ugly junkie/hooker chastising a nice bearded man who was trying to play the violin in the street outside. He moved along to a little park across the road. Maggie showed me the sight of the Tavistock Square bus bomb and where the explosion had damaged parts of some nearby buildings. Then we walked to the Conservatory pub (or the Vespa Lounge), near Centre Point. We sat outside with our drinks and Maggie�s friend David came along. He said he�d quit his job (in Top Shop) that day. Gary pointed out the Job Centre across the road and told me Dennis Neilson used to work in an office right above there! Some woman who Maggie had met at a gig came over and talked to her, bought a copy of her zine (see review elsewhere in this issue), etc. I had my photo taken underneath the pub sign. Gary soon whisked me away to other pubs, leaving Maggie and David for a while. We caught a bus to the Cittie of Yorke in High Holborn (which Gary calls the Man-O-War), which was really nice and spacious. There was hardly anybody there, which was good. My mum rang to see if I had arrived alright. Then we went to the Intrepid Fox, a �rock� pub with tonnes of skeletons and fake cobwebs everywhere. It was alright as well. Liked the sign they had up about how you�re not allowed to wear ties! Then we gayed it up a bit and went into the Admiral Duncan (which was the pub that got bombed a few years ago). The decor was a bit too pink for my liking but we got some good fliers in the toilets! The guy handing out fliers at the door looked about 12! Maggie met us but wanted to go and �get raped�.. either that or go to a nightclub with David, so me and Gary got a bus to Camden and had a final pint in the Devonshire Arms, a goth pub. I �tested� the barman by giving him a Scottish �10 note which, of course, he didn�t accept. At least he said �I know it�s stupid but it�s the manager�s rule�. Maggie met us in there and we got a bus back to her �pad� in North Finchley. I was given a late-night, drunken tour of the overgrown garden. We made a curry which tasted fucking GREAT, as drunken curries tend to. Maggie�s room is TINY, as is Fiona�s OLD room (she�s moved back to Glasgow) which I also saw. Maggie sang me a couple of her songs before we went to bed.
Tuesday, 6th of September
Woke at about 8.15am and Gary made us some horrible, too strong tea, only a few sips of which I could drink. Watched some digi-box TV, got ready and hit the High Street. It was another lovely, sunny day. Maggie and Gary showed me the sights of North Finchley.. the bus station, the discount store (where I bought a key chain.. not for my keys, but for my wallet.. and Gary bought an Arsenal musical birthday card for 30p for his mate�s imminent birthday), Sainsbury�s.. I got myself a coffee from a caf� as they didn�t have any coffee in the house. I drank it sitting at the kitchen table while Gary made some food (more curry!) I wrote a couple of postcards.. one to Andrew and one to Paul and Julie. I looked at the garden in daylight and was most impressed by the nice sculpture one of Maggie�s housemates did, which is sitting on an upturned bit of her broken bed frame! We ate the curry in Maggie�s room and I started drinking cider. We got ready to go out and went to wait for a bus. I couldn�t believe how many people were staring at Maggie and Gary and making comments from passing vehicles. Fucking insane.. just because people are dressed a little bit differently from the �norm�! We got a couple of buses to the City, me drinking a few plastic cups of cider on the way (soooo civilized!) It was boiling and I felt a bit queasy as well, but we got out and had a nice walk past St Paul�s and Tower Bridge and we saw some boats going into St Katherine�s Dock and I posted my postcards and we went into a shop which sold pirate stuff and Maggie and Gary had a piss in a pub near HMS Belfast and I drank some more cider and it was really rather nice and the place had totally changed from the last time I�d been in that area (mind you, that was over 20 years ago!) Got on another bus to take us further into the heart of the West End and we all drank cider from plastic cups and I saw Nigel Planer walking down the street chatting on his phone. We went into a punk art gallery and the guy there was obviously on drugs, the way he was going on. We saw some good original Jamie Reid prints and stuff and Maggie picked up a free zine and we all picked up some free postcards. Went into Virgin to use their toilets then went to Sainsbury�s to buy food, which we ate on a slow-moving bus going down Oxford Street. Had a pint in the Hog in the Pound. Maggie�s mate Monica was behind the bar upstairs but we sat in the quieter downstairs bar. I took a shit in their LOVELY toilets! Then we left Maggie (at her INSISTENCE) and caught a bus to a pub called the Bathhouse (this was after some Jap tourist had taken Gary�s photo and Gary had shouted at him for not paying him for the HONOUR) which looked �normal� but was okay and there was a nice doggie wandering around the place. Maggie showed up and Gary shouted at her for being moody and the barmaid asked him not to swear. We were leaving ANYWAY. Went to check out the Bob Mould queue at the Mean Fiddler then went round the corner to a pub called the Royal George. We drank Magners outside and it was good because there was no traffic around, it being in a lane. We sat at a table which had only just been vacated by Carl Barat of the Libertines and two of his mates! Then Maggie walked me round the corner to the venue and I went inside. Got myself a �3.20 can of Red Stripe and watched Youth Group, first from upstairs and then downstairs. They were alright. The place really filled up just before Bob hit the stage. I was on my third can of Red Stripe by then, too. He was absolutely fuckin� BRILLIANT. Played with a bassist, drummer (ex-Fugazi) and a keyboardist (which was, thankfully, used only subtly). He started with the first three tracks from �Copper Blue� then did some ones from the new album. I had tears streaming down my face when he did �See a Little Light� and it was GREAT to hear Husker Du songs like �Chartered Trips� and �Could You Be the One?� performed with a band. I seriously thought I was going to piss myself towards the end of his set, though, and luckily he did a song I wasn�t too keen on (one from �Modulate�, I think), so I dashed to have a piss. Looks like I made it just in time too, �cos there was a huge queue of people behind me. When I came out of the bog, he was launching into �Celebrated Summer� so I grabbed a fourth Red Stripe and went back down the front. He came back for a couple of encores and we were treated to great versions of �Ego Override� (the only time I felt that the keyboard sounded a bit out-of-place in the whole set), �Makes No Sense At All�, �If I Can�t Change Your Mind� and more. He ended with a blistering, hair-on-the-back-of-your-neck-standing-to-attention �Man on the Moon�, during which he actually CROWD SURFED a little bit! I was fucking ECSTATIC when it was all over and Maggie and Gary were waiting for me outside the venue. Some woman from BBC 6 Music stuck a microphone into my face and asked me some questions about what I�d thought of the gig. Turns out Maggie and Gary had met her in the Royal George, along with some Scottish nut who bought them a drink. Sounds like we ALL had a great, interesting and fun night! We went back to the Vespa for a few more drinks. I had some ciders and a double whiskey and Coke, still on a high from the great gig. We got a couple of late buses back to North Finchley and Maggie crashed out on the bed, so me and Gary sat up for a while chatting and drinking cider. Well, I was drinking cider, anyway! Eventually, we were just so tired we went to sleep.
Wednesday, 7th of September
My uncle Hugh rang before noon and we arranged to meet in Camden. Maggie had to sign on at 3pm, so me and Gary left on our own. Went to Sainsbury�s for some food to eat on the bus. I had nice houmous and pepper wrap thingies and a bottle of Coke. It was a really beautiful day. We got a couple of buses to Camden and I met Hugh and Luke at about 12.30 or so. Gary buggered off to write a postcard filled with GG Allin lyrics to �the staff and clients� of his training scheme! We went to a caf� place called the Camden Cottage and took a window seat. Hugh and Luke ordered meals with litre bottles of water but I wasn�t really hungry after the houmous stuff, so I just had 2 pieces of (very dry) garlic bread with a pint of Stella. Luke�s living in Camden now � sharing a place with other students and he�s got a part-time job teaching school kids how to play chess. I was telling them all about my job and Hugh said he used to hate it when he had to sell photographs to people. When I mentioned that I worked in Ibrox, he said he was in a pub there once, years ago, and two guys walked in with swords, looking for someone who thankfully wasn�t there! When Luke went to the loo, Hugh gave me some cash. I think it was �40. After a while, Shen came to join us. She had been for a job interview near Victoria station. After she had eaten, we went on a boat trip from Camden Lock which took us past Regent�s Park zoo and some WELL posh houses and mansions which all had signs saying that there were guard dogs patrolling the grounds. The �cruise� ended up in an area called Little Venice which also looked very upmarket. It was really nice, actually. I enjoyed it a lot. After that, we went into Lock 17, a bar I remember going to with Andrew years ago. We sat upstairs on some comfy sofas and chairs and drank (I had a Magners, everyone else had spirit drinks with mixers) and ate (chips and nachos with nice dips). Then we went for a look round the market. It was mainly stalls and shops selling clothes and stuff. Then we got a bus into town and, incredibly, I spotted Gary and Maggie walking down the street! Luke pointed out his college � ULU � and we got off near Centre Point and walked down Charing Cross Road. Me and Luke went into Quinto�s, which is meant to be the biggest second hand bookshop in Britain or something. It was shit! All the books looked ancient and crap. Then we went to Leicester Square and into the Haagen Daas restaurant, which just sold desserts! I had some Belgian waffles and ice cream and coffee. Hugh was saying how lovely their toilets were (because their plumbing is off at home so they can�t wash properly or anything at the moment). After that, we said our goodbyes at about 7.10pm. I said I wouldn�t leave it as long before coming back to London (the last time I was there was in 1997!) I went into a few shops before going to meet Gary and Maggie � Borders (had a shit in their toilets), Foyles and a couple of sex shops. It was close to 8pm when I went to the Vespa and saw Maggie and Gary sitting outside. I got myself a pint and joined them. After we�d finished our drinks, we went to Soho and checked out another sex shop. Then it was off to another pub, the Glasshouse Stores, which I liked so much, we stayed there till closing time! Had a few ciders and a double whiskey and Coke (�4.20!!!!) Some Japanese tourists ended up sitting next to us. We sat in some seats next to a plaque which said �In memory of Whistling Jack�, which I thought was nice. We decided to walk back some of the way as it was a while until our night bus was due. It was nice walking in the cool evening air, through largely deserted areas. Eventually, we caught a bus going straight back to Maggie�s and we sat upstairs, right at the back. Gary and I drank cider. When we got back, Maggie made some sort of curry and vegetable concoction which we ate in her room. Nothing left to drink, so I had to content myself with the food.
Thursday, 8th of September
We�d set our alarms for 9am but woke before that due to the window being open and noisy builders and shit and the brightness of the morning. Me and Gary went over the road to Sainsbury�s to buy food and then we went back and he and Maggie had an argument while I paced around in Fiona�s old room. We left and caught a bus just to the local bus station, got off and then waited for ANOTHER bus to take us into town. We sat upstairs, at the front and they ate their food. I didn�t eat as I felt I might vomit if I did. It was nice and really sunny and they pointed out where Dennis Neilson used to live (Cranley Gardens) and then we were going on about where 10 Rillington Place was and Maggie said she�d never seen the film and I quite liked the fact we were talking about serial killers �cos I wondered what the other people on the bus made of THAT. We got off the bus and walked to the British Library, where they showed me some great optical illusion painting then we went and looked round the Hans Christian Andersen exhibition then upstairs to where they had some boring old books and shit. Then it was time to go to Euston for my train. Maggie went to the toilet and Gary got accosted by some mad barber who said he would cut his hair for free! We walked down to the platform where my train was boarding and the lights went out and then they closed and locked the doors, causing some fat old cunt to start shouting and moaning at his poor wife. When the doors eventually opened, I found the carriage I was supposed to be in, but I couldn�t find my reserved seat and so went into the next carriage. I found a decent seat but then the fat old cunt appeared and started going on about not being able to find his seat and what�s the point in reserving a seat if you can�t find it, etc, so I moved into the �Quiet Zone� (obviously the carriage I�d been in on Monday WASN�T a quiet carriage because this had a �You are now entering the quiet zone� sign on the door and stickers up everywhere to remind you.) I said bye to Maggie and Gary, found a good seat and got stuck into some houmous and pitta bread. The train left at 11.45am and we were off. I was nearly falling asleep on many parts of the journey, as I hadn�t slept too well the previous night. Read Gary�s letter which helped to keep me awake and listened to my walkman despite being in the �Quiet Zone�. We stopped at Milton Keanes, Rugby, Crewe, Warrington Bank Quay, Wigan, Preston (the seat next to mine was reserved from there but luckily no one sat there), Lancaster, Oxenholme, Penrith, Carlisle and Motherwell. I bought a lukewarm coffee from the (male) trolley dolly sometime after Preston and finished off my houmous but NOT my pitta bread. The old guy in front of me (who also got off at Glasgow Central) kept taking slugs out of a half bottle of whiskey which was in his bag. We arrived in Glasgow at 5pm and I went straight to the Horseshoe and had three pints, the first sitting at a table, the other two sitting at the bar. Drunken Eyes was in with his mates in a pink shirt (and I saw him in the toilet giving his cock a good old shake!) I was hoping James or Sam or SOMEONE might be in but they weren�t. I did briefly chat with Michael�s mate, Alan, though. Mum rang to see I�d got back okay and I wished her a happy birthday. I left at 6.30pm, got a subway to Kelvinbridge and went back to the flat to dump my stuff. Bumped into Craig in the hall and he asked me if I�d had a good time. I said �Yeah and I�m STILL having a good time, so I�m going out now!� Kenny had sent me a text saying that the Sundowns were playing at the Goat, so I went into Oran Mor for a pint of cider. I thought John might be in (I�d knocked on his door but he must have been out). After that, I walked to the Goat, bumping into my work-mate Samantha on the way. She was in a big group of friends and had been drinking all day. Walked into the Goat and the Sundowns were already on �stage� (there WASN�T a stage!) Instantly as likeable as when I last saw them. They had it all � the pedal steel, the female backing singer, OMP soundman, plus another one sitting at the bar, ignoring the band, etc. What more could I ask for?! They did some songs I recognised and then took a break. I had three Magners while watching them. The female backing singer left the place after the first set and did not return. They must play there regularly, which is good because it�s not too far away but also bad because I�m usually working. Shit. Anyway, I really enjoyed their set(s) and when the pedal steel guy sat out one song, I realised that he is a BIG ingredient to why I like them so much better live than on CD (there�s only pedal steel on two or three of the songs on the CD, for some reason). With the pedal steel, they make fully-grown babies swoon and fall into piles of soft feathers and squeaky toys which have the squeaky bit removed. They finished/I left just before 10pm and I walked back along the dark and spooky tree-lined road next to Kelvingrove Park, found 20p in a phone box (something I used to do a LOT and which Gary was doing when I was in London = looking in phone boxes for cash. Sometimes you find it!) I celebrated this by having a pint in Hubbard�s. It was open mic night and I saw a good mouth organ led instrumental blues band then some earnest singer songwriter guy and girl. Then I went and got a pizza from BBQ King. Was back at 11pm, read Andrew�s letter and watched a documentary on BBC1 about country singers like Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, etc. GOOD, it was. Went to sleep after that, at about 12.30. I fell asleep almost instantly.
The Shipping Forecast
He used to lie in bed late at night,
listening to the shipping forecast on the radio.
He liked the strange, exotic names.
Finisterre, Cromarty, Dogger..
Not that he knew what any of it meant.
There was just something about the names
and the tone of the newscaster�s voice
which soothed him and made him feel at peace
with the world and ready for sleep.
Then in the mornings, after his mother
had gone to work, he would walk through
the silent morning air to his aunt and uncle�s house
at the other end of the street.
After letting himself in, he would sit by the
imitation-coal electric fire,
on those cold winter mornings before school,
listening to the radio quietly playing pop music
and silently dreading the day ahead.
Thus Davox
There�s nowhere to hide,
under these fluorescent lights.
Every blemish of the skin,
if not the heart,
is there for all to see.
We wait, like battery hens,
for our usefulness
to expire.
Unsure of our fate,
we peck aimlessly at the ground,
Waiting, waiting
for a darkness that
never comes.
GIGS
SUTCLIFFE JUGEND � RED ROSE, LONDON, 27TH AUGUST 2005 by Gary Simmons
Well, the best �band� was actually Emil Beaulieau. He was ENTERTAINING!! Birds Of Delay, if it WAS �them�, was just one topless guy, doing an Emil Beaulieau impersonation, which went down well. Didn�t think too much of Jessica Rylan, although her �minimalist� music WAS a welcome interlude to the noise proceedings of the other bands. Not sure if I was totally conscious when Prurient played! I can�t remember them! OR Grunt!! I DID recall Sutcliffe Jugend though. Not at ALL as extreme as I expected!! Kevin Tomkins has got more grey hair since I last saw him!! I think that was at Pigeons in Stratford, performing in his �rock� guise as the ultra-excellent Bodychoke band! The SJ set definitely had it�s moments though, with �I wish.. I WISH.. I WISH.. I wish your mother could see you NOW!!� A �song� from thee marvelously brutal �Victim As Beauty� CD! Shame they didn�t come back for an encore.. I was all ready to scream for Kevin to �Kill ME!! Kill ME, Kevin. Kill my children! Burn me, Kevin! Buuuurrrnn meee!!� But.. I didn�t, coz they was GONE, maan! All dressed in white, a�la the �Clockwork Orange� droogs, somehow they just didn�t quite live up to their unbelievably violent recorded output that has NEVER faltered in 23 years, on and off!! Just WHY some 20-something twat came up to Maggie to complain about her homemade Nazi armband beggars belief. After all, WHY did he not tell Kevin Tomkins about how offended he was with THEIR lyrics and song titles?? SJ wrote songs condoning Ian Brady (�King Ian�), put out a 10-cassette box set entitled �We Spit On Their Graves� (referring to the Yorkshire Ripper�s victims!) and wrote a whole �play�, complete with various acts charting the abduction, humiliation, rape and murder of an innocent girl!! So WHY was this FUCK at a SJ gig in the FIRST place? Guess he was trying to impress his banal �chick� with his political correctness by ticking off a 23 year old girl at a noise gig! Bet he don�t write to Blair and co complaining of HIS murderous policies in Iraq?! Fucking IDIOT!! Just makes you wanna do MORE to offend cunts like THAT! I also bought a T-shirt, white, naturally, with �Sutcliffe Jugend Live Assault 01 London 27.08.05� on the front. I want EVERYTHING!! An interesting �pilot performance� and a band to keep a look out for! Christ, I�m STILL hungover!
BOB MOULD � MEAN FIDDLER, LONDON, 6TH SEPTEMBER 2005
See review elsewhere in this issue.
THE SUNDOWNS � THE GOAT, GLASGOW, 8TH SEPTEMBER 2005
See review elsewhere in this issue.
ZINE
DOLE BABIES (AVAILABLE FOR �1 FROM MAGGIE PONCE, 14 AVENUE ROAD, LONDON, N12 [email protected])
Entertaining read with articles about such diverse subjects as �Murder She Wrote�, fare dodging on public transport, being on the dole (hence the fucking brilliant title!), Jesus, the �terror threat� in London, Bridget Jones, etc. There are also great little stories like �Lucy in the Office with Computers� which had me laughing out loud and photos of Maggie posing about various London landmarks. This is issue �3 and Maggie asks �Will I make it to issue 1?� Buy yourself a copy so you can find out!
CDs
VARIOUS ARTISTS � GODSPUNK VOLUME 3 (PUMF) WWW.PUMF.NET
Whether it�s �God�s Punk� or �God Spunk� I�m not entirely sure but this 21 track comp contains music by the likes of The 3 Ages of Elvis, Razor Dog, The Time Flies!, UNIT, Pissed Off, etc, etc. Names to make even the BIGGEST indie snob scratch their head and say �Who?� There are only a couple of names that ARE familiar to me here.. Howl in the Typewriter (who have been going for YEARS and who kick the CD off in fine style with some English hip-hop track called �Affairs of the Heart� and end it with a brilliant spoken piece called �Personal Ads�) and Litterbug (a couple of whose CDs have been reviewed in past issues of this very zine.. His two tracks here � �Who Am I?� and �Looking Back Then� � are good old confessional, guitar-driven rockers, although the latter descends into instrumental techno with samples, for some reason). Kate Fear and Nigel Joseph (Kate�s in Ceramic Hobs and I think Nigel is some sort of big boy on the noise scene or something) contribute something called �Little Bird�, which is eerie spoken-word poetry over ambient spookiness. Elsewhere, there�s dirty be-quiffed rawk �n� roll (The 3 Ages of Elvis; their �Dishwash� reminds me of that brilliant/annoying song covered by The 5,6,7, 8�s �Woo Hoo� that�s in �Kill Bill�), electro-blasphemy (�Asylum� by Pissed Off), cheap keyboard techno strangeness with indecipherable shoutings (�Paranoia� by Norman, which has more changes than �Bohemian Rhapsody�), fist-in-the-air pub rock (the two tracks by Razor Dog), amusing Streets-like spoken-word rap/poetry (�The Trial� by LDB), lo-fi odd-bodness (�World of Cricket� by The Reverends), wimpy indie-rock with flutes and shit and out-of-tune singing and strange Japanese spoken bits one word of which sounds like �wanking� (the FOUR tracks credited to UNIT) and gentle electronica (courtesy of The Time Flies!) It all comes in Pumf�s usual lush, colour packaging too, with some barmy sleeve-notes. Nice!
JOHN MARTYN � CLASSICS (ARTFUL)
It�s got a lovely cover (a nice shot of some trees) and it was a lovely price (�7.99 for a double CD containing 27 tracks) and it�s got some lovely songs on it (�Couldn�t Love You More�, �Sweet Little Mystery�, �Bless the Weather�, etc) but, unfortunately, what the LOVELY cover FAILS to tell you is that these are RE-RECORDINGS of these lovely songs! SACRILEGE! I got this specifically for two particular songs I heard once while lounging in Borders (back in the days when I had TIME to do such things). Sadly, here, those songs (and several others) are reduced to shitty, soft-focus, Radio Fuck-wit PISH and DON�T GET ME STARTED on the too-many tracks featuring backing vocals by.. I can barely bring myself to dirty my keyboard with his name.. PHIL-MOTHER-FUCKIN�-COLLINS!! I knew J. Martyn was/is a big pal of his but that�s NO EXCUSE. Phil Collins is THE ENEMY. He was the embodiment of Corporate Evil when I was a teenager in the �80s and I can never forgive him for the shit music he spewed out like the devil�s chunky vomit. Good job I listened to these CDs while so TOTALLY fucked-up after a three-day binge that I was physically unable to get up and turn it off. However, against all the odds, there is still some great stuff here. It�s just a shame it�s like digging for nuggets of gold in a mountain of manure.
NEIL YOUNG � GREATEST HITS (REPRISE)
Hang on, how many �hits� has Mr Young ACTUALLY had?! Oh, right, there�s a disclaimer on the cover which states �greatest hits inclusion is based on original record sales, airplay and known download history�. OK, glad THAT�S been sorted out! THIS is more like it.. Not ONLY does this have a lovely cover (lush, expensive and expansive paper booklet which folds into a poster that would look great on ANY discerning music-lover�s wall), a VERY lovely price (�3 in Fopp and it wasn�t even second-hand!) and some REALLY lovely songs (every one of the 16 tracks here is pure genius) and Neil would NEVER EVER do anything as crass as re-record his greatest works like John Martyn did. Why tamper with perfection? I listened to this late into the night with my pal John, partaking in too much cider and vodka, and it WAS rather the perfect way to hear these songs, especially as John hadn�t heard them in years and was on the verge of nostalgic tears throughout. Rumour has it that Uncle Neil�s latest album is yet ANOTHER classic. The man�s career has produced an embarrassment of riches, to be sure.
ELEGANT GOBLINS � BUGGERY OF THOUGHT (EVIL TREES) WWW.ELEGANT-GOBLINS.NET
Scintillating guitar action which will put you in traction. Songs like �Rictus Breeze� and �The Slow Death of the Earth� recall early Sonic Youth and Butthole Surfers in their ferocity, weirdness and general don�t-give-a-fuck-ness. Seductive female vocals float somewhere above a sea of buzzing guitars and fuzzbox bass. Lyrics are somewhat indecipherable but sound dark, menacing and scary. Ooh, I�m SCARED! Ballads? Elegant Goblins don�t DO ballads, baby, but there IS a slow, Codeine-esque thing called �Ghosting� which creeps into your subconscious like a disease-ridden and unwanted cat and then does a shit on your carpet. Make it your DUTY to seek this disc out!
RYAN ADAMS & THE CARDINALS � JACKSONVILLE CITY NIGHTS (LOST HIGHWAY)
Braved the torrential rain to get Bob�s Suduko book from Borders, then bought the new Ryan Adams and Neil Young CDs (�10.97 each!) from Music Zone. I even allowed a very small boy to queue-jump with his 97p (!!) �Spider Man� video. Got the bus to Shawlands and was in Sir Johns at about 2.10pm. It was Monday Club, so only �1.29 a pint. Joe and Cat came in soon. He�d just bought the Ryan CD too, with some Virgin vouchers he had. Two of his mates were there, who�d been on an all-weekend coke binge. Had 4 pints. Ronnie was in, but he sat with other people. Joe and Cat left me to finish their vodka and lemonades after 5pm, then I got a bus into town and went to the Horseshoe. Had a pint with Sam, standing at the bar. Some of his work-mates were sitting at a table. He talked about his work and I talked about mine. Then I went to RG�s for a �1.19 pint, then I got 3 litres of cider out of Sainsburys then got a bus back. Was back at 7.40pm. Stuck on the new Ryan CD (his 2nd new release this year alone.. and reportedly not his last, either!) VERY alt country, a sort of return to his Whiskeytown roots (which is a damn good thing, I think). Pedal steel dominates most of the 16 tracks (14 �proper� tracks and 2 �bonus tracks�, one of which � a song called �Jeane� (NOT the Smiths song of the same name) � is perversely, and typically, one of the finest songs on the whole disc!) There�s the usual heartfelt longing for his childhood home (�The End�), the usual swoon-some duets with female superstars (many of the songs feature Nora Jones on backing vocals) and the usual fucking great songwriting. On the first few listens, this has thrown up some wonderful stuff, but I know I�ll grow to love this more and more with time. Really nice cover art, too. Roll on Ryan�s 3rd album of 2005, I say!
NEIL YOUNG � PRAIRIE WIND (REPRISE)
You can tell from the sepia-tinted childhood photos on the cover that this is one of those �reflective� Neil Young albums. And, boy, reflective it most certainly IS! Maybe that�s inevitable when you�re NY�s age, or perhaps it has something to do with his recent life-threatening illness. Either way, there are some achingly personal songs here like �The Painter�, �No Wonder�, �Falling off the Face of the Earth�, �Here for You�, �This Old Guitar� and �It�s a Dream�, which are all gorgeous. There are more upbeat moments too, such as the playful �He Was the King� (about Elvis!) and �Far from Home� (which is slightly spoiled by that much-dreaded instrument, the saxophone.) As on the Ryan Adams CD, pedal steel floats above most of these songs, and there�s also some female superstar vocal action courtesy of Emmylou Harris, who guests on 3 tracks.
MARK EITZEL � DEMOS BEFORE LOVE SONGS (SELF-RELEASED) WWW.MARKEITZEL.COM
As the title suggests, this CD is a collection of demos recorded before Mark Eitzel got back together with American Music Club (The Best Band In The World � Ever!) A few of them featured on AMC�s comeback album �Love Songs for Patriots�. The versions here are, unsurprisingly, not as good as the AMC versions, but are also different enough (in terms of the arrangements and even the lyrics) to make satisfying and fascinating listening anyway. But it�s the previously unreleased songs here that make this a mouth-watering prospect for any Eitzel fan. �Hippy Boots� is a jaunty and laugh-out-loud-funny romp about a night spent in a bar (where else?!) �Apology� is slow and sad lovely. �Animals� is slow and sad and lovely AND has some hilarious lyrics that name-check Celine Dione and Tchaikovsky and is the song I remember loving from a lot of bootlegged Eitzel shows from 2001/2002. This is a fantastic appetiser for his brand new solo album, �Candy Ass� and forthcoming Glasgow show. Whoo!
SMOKEY
Mick smashed the bottle and held it against the stranger�s throat. He liked to do this every Friday night. The randomness and excitement of it made him feel better about his 40-hour a week job. It made all the anxiety that had built up drain away. It gave him a hard-on.
Afterwards, it he didn�t get arrested, he would go home to his expensive West End flat and flick on Sky TV for a while, until he got bored and then he would watch one of his child porn DVDs and masturbate.
This particular evening, though, Mick wasn�t feeling quite himself and, as he held the sharp and shiny green glass to the stranger�s neck, he found himself suddenly bursting into tears.
�What�s wrong, mate?� the stranger asked.
�I dunno, mate. I was all set to slit you from ear to ear there, but I just remembered my dog. I miss my dog.�
Mick dropped the broken bottle and wept some more. The stranger took this opportunity to vacate the premises.
�Mick, darling, why are you crying?� asked Sheila, the barmaid. �It�s not like you. They�re usually huckling you out of here in a police van.�
�Sheila, it�s Smokey. He died last Wednesday and I never realised how much I missed him. He was always waiting for me when I got home. Sure, I�d give him a few whacks now and again with a coat-hanger, but that dog really loved me. He was my best friend.�
�Have another whiskey on the house, Mick. It�ll be okay. Why don�t you get a new dog?�
�I can�t. There�s a court order against me having anymore animals. Smokey was the last. I don�t want to go home alone. Do you fancy coming back with me tonight, Shiela?�
�Sorry, Mick, but my girlfriend wouldn�t like that very much.�
�She can come too. We could have a threesome. Smokey�s still there, too. He could join in.�
�I thought he�d died, Mick..�
�Well, yeah, he did. But he could still join in. He was always into all that stuff. Sex, y�know? He wanted it every night. God, I miss that dog.�
Mick drained his glass of whiskey and walked across the bar to the quiz machine. He put in a �2 coin and watched the flashing lights, randomly pressing buttons, not concentrating on what he was doing. All he could think about was Smokey. He pulled out his phone and admired a video-clip of Smokey sucking his cock. Then he turned, saluted the bar, and left.
Outside it was cold, wet and dark. Mick walked deliberately in the opposite direction to home. He was soon on a bridge above a motorway. The traffic sped past like bullets. Mick wanted to jump down into the mad rush, lose himself in it all. But then he heard a noise behind him. He looked and noticed a young girl, dressed in summer clothes despite the winter chill.
Mick grabbed the girl and began to madly kiss her. It happened so fast, she couldn�t even scream. Mick shoved his right hand up her skirt and got a good feel of her hot, young cunt. From his back pocket, he pulled out a knife and sliced down the left side of her face. It looked beautiful. Like a work of art. As she screamed and sobbed, falling onto the damp pavement, Mick wiped the blade and walked away. He would sleep well that night.