Cherry Outburst / August 22 2008
What is that constant ridiculous sound in the background of the Verve’s new single Love Is Noise? It sounds like a herd of geese. It makes Audrey bark like some kind of crazy female madman every time it is played on XFM. It ruins what is otherwise quite an average song.
Actually, I would rather like the Verve if they weren’t so . . . well, crap.
I met Richard Ashcroft once. Slaughterhouse 5 had just finished a disappointing gig at the Borderline in London and after we left the stage he ambled over to me at the noisy bar where I was busy drowning my sorrows. He slapped me hard on the back. ‘I’m Richard Ashcroft out of the Verve. I’m gonna give you some advice, and you’d do well to listen.’
‘Okay, I will,’ I told him, and got a solemn nod in return.
He bellowed in my ear: ‘Your guitar, that black Les Paul you’re using?’ - He had bad breath - ‘Wrong colour for your music, mate. You need to swap it for a cherry-sunburst seventies model, much more your style.’
I finished off my Guinness. ‘Thanks for telling me that,’ I shouted. And in calm, elegant italics, I added, I’ll see if I can find one.
Filed under Guitars / Gigs / Musicians / Advice / London / Pop Stars / Enormous / Slaughterhouse 5 / Music / Bands / 4 Comments »
Early Warning / August 21 2008
ENORMOUS have a big gig coming up in November.
It’s quite a while away but I’m telling you now as it’s tickets only and will probably sell out.
Here are the details: New Romantics B-Movie are playing at The Town Mill in Mansfield, Nottinghamshire on Thursday 20th November with support from recently reformed pop stompers ENORMOUS - that’s us.
Tickets are £8 and are available from the venue and Ticketweb.
See you there! (I’m the good-looking one at the front.)
Filed under Gigs / Enormous / 8 Comments »
The Fifth Beetle / August 20 2008
No, not George Martin or George Best, but a beetle, an actual beetle.
(His beetle-name could, I suppose, be George; but ultimately there is no way of knowing.)
I’ve counted five of the little blighters in the past few days - one, two, three, four, and five – on the mixing desk. It could be the same one on his little beetle training-circuit, and I certainly hope it is, but I’m convinced each tiny face was different.
They emerge from the dusty back of the mic preamp on channel twelve and disappear again down one of the inputs of the patchbay on the right. Please, Sweet Lord, not another insect infestation. Why me? I keep everywhere clean – relatively clean.
Alright, I need to clean the house. But, well, you know: busy fellow living on his own with his hairy dog – it’s not always top of the list of things to do.
Filed under Bachelorhood / Animals / Recording Studio / 5 Comments »
Beware of the Flowers / August 18 2008
The Forces of Evil that control the village have gone health-and-safety crazy.
The park that Audrey and I usually stroll around for our morning exercise has been recently fenced-off from the outside world. It is now heavily defended against drunken toddlers or Romany invaders, but today, the big iron gates at the Princess Avenue entrance that are usually left open twenty-four hours, seven days-a-week, were closed. They had been secured with a colossal metal chain and padlock, barring our egress on to the bowling greens and flowerbeds of Audrey’s favourite recreational space.
The reason? The district council were cutting the grass and pruning the roses.
Some bureaucratic imbecile at the Town Hall had apparently deemed it too dangerous for visitors fearing they may wander into the path of one of the big red-and-green lawnmowers and lose a limb, or puncture a major artery on a dead-headed rosebush and bleed to death or trip on a fuchsia and snap their spine.
The look on my puzzled little dog’s face was one of cheerless frustration and disappointment; the look on my face was slightly less resigned.
To make it up to her, we walked via the school playing-fields to the shops where I treated her to a colourful packet of chews made from pigs’ nerves.
Filed under English Village Life / Audrey / Annoyances / 1 Comment »
They Nest / August 17 2008
Too many ants.
I don’t mind one or two about the place, they add a little ornamental detail to the kitchen surfaces, but the current situation was unacceptable.
The man from the council said I have a nest behind the oven. A veritable infestation. Not good.
I do not like killing insects. I cannot douse houseflies in insecticide or arrange slug pellets in the garden, and standing on a snail leaves me distraught for days. But I was pleased when Steve, the council pest-destroying fellow, arrived to spray the ant nest with poison.
I watched as the first of the little creatures to be affected began a chaotic death-dance of hellish confusion. They were not dancing for long. Sorry, ants. Good job it wasn’t horses.
I eventually managed to put the slaughter out of my mind and settled down to watch a movie starring Karl Malden and several Yugoslavians.
Filed under Guilt / Life / 3 Comments »
North and South / August 15 2008
Dear old Nelson Galaxy is always telling me about the alarming things he often hears coming from the streets around his flat in London, and considering the nature of such a big city, this is something that is not totally unexpected. I have no idea, however, what was happening last night right here in this small Derbyshire village just outside the studio window.
I was working late editing some percussion tracks when some awful sounds of chaos and mayhem began emanating from the direction of the Royal Oak pub just down the hill.
Something that sounded not unlike a wild banshee was screaming, ‘Ah kin noo! Orl kin tarm! Ah noo!’
And in rude accompaniment, something was yelling, ‘Narf an sarf! Shat yer kin narf an sarf!’
As it drew closer to the house, Audrey was roused from her contented dreams of recreational feline-chasing by the noise and decided to add to the cacophony by barking in sixteenths in time to the tambourine track I was working on and by running around the control room like a velociraptor on meth.
‘Narf an sarf! Narf an sarf! Shat yer narf an sarf!’
I have no idea what nature of beast it was that was creating such pandemonium and I didn’t want to know, either. Thankfully, the noises veered off towards the direction of the old pit yards at the bottom of Sporton Lane and eventually disappeared into the night. Audrey returned to her favourite sleeping position underneath the mixing desk and I finished off, flattening the EQ, pulling the faders and turning off the amps. By midnight we were in bed; all was peaceful and quiet.
I fancy we shall never know what it was that was causing such a disturbing hullabaloo, though I shall remain rather happy in my ignorance. But I do think I should perhaps visit Reg, Alien-Hunter General, and see if he has any thoughts on the matter.
Filed under Reg / Aliens / English Village Life / Audrey / Conspiracy Theory / Recording Studio / Monsters / 2 Comments »
Meanwhile, Back at the Ponderosa / August 14 2008
I should have known it was going to be one of those days. This morning began very poorly.
I received bad news in an email first thing which depressed me; then, in attempting to pick up the freshly excreted contents of Audrey’s bowels on the rec’, the poo-bag broke and I got the stuff all over my hand; finally, outside the Co-op in the village, I tripped and twisted my ankle. Swearing, I stumbled forward awkwardly into a pretty girl on her way to work and, in an effort to steady myself, placed my stinking hand on her left breast. I apologised profusely but it was not a thing of any grace.
‘It’s okay,’ she said softly. But as she spoke I saw the overlapping terror and disgust in her face.
Then everything changed: As we returned home, the rain stopped and a warm sun rose in the east. A strange man was on a ladder doing something to the upstairs windows of the house. It transpired that he was not in fact a Jehovah’s Burglar as was my immediate assumption but a window cleaner who was attending to the wrong address. ‘Lovely morning,’ he commented. ‘Sorry for the mix-up - I won’t charge you a penny.’
Best of all was when I sat down to enjoy my ten o’clock latte. A severely mini-skirted Danni Minogue was being interviewed on the television and she was sitting on a tiny stool that forced her into revealing about eight feet of antipodean upper-thigh.
Marvellous.
I might even put on my treasured recording of Morecambe and Wise singing Bring Me Sunshine a little later and give the little Fantastic Fireman a vigorous workout after I have finished writing this.
Filed under Dannii Minogue / Mornings / Annoyances / 3 Comments »
O, Jehovah! / August 13 2008
‘Your arms are too short.’
‘What? Look, I don’t have time to listen to your bizarre suppositions. I have an eight-thirty, and before that I have to walk my dog and take a shower – not at the same time, obviously.’
‘You would be so welcome at our next meeting.’
‘Could I bring my dog?’
‘Certainly not. Jehovah’s Witnesses do not allow animals to enter into their church.’
‘Seems like a rather exclusive policy. Does Jehovah agree with it?’
‘Are you making fun of us?’
‘Yes. And if you don’t go away I’m afraid I may have to use my fists. Blood may be shed. Again.’
‘Your arms are too short.’
‘What?’
‘Your arms are too short to box.’
‘Box?’
‘Yes,’ he said finally, ‘Your arms are too short to box with Jesus.’
Filed under Religion / Annoyances / 3 Comments »
Telling Teenage Fortunes / August 11 2008
No.20
Your French teacher who stinks of Brut will proclaim to the class that he thinks you are ‘about as clever as a box of hair’.
This will have everybody giggling into their copies of Candide for at least five minutes.
You will say this in reply: nothing.
On the Fantastic hi-fi today:
Wait For Me – The Pigeon Detectives
Filed under Telling Teenage Fortunes / School / 4 Comments »
Hip Hop Pensioner Turns Blue / August 10 2008
‘Reg, I’m sorry if I upset you the other day.’ I felt so bad, I had gone round to my elderly friend’s - the erstwhile alien abductee’s – house to apologise for being so rude to him.
He told me not to worry about it. ‘Anyway, what do you reckon, eh?’
‘What’s that, Reginald?’
‘I’ve bought a drumkit! I’m going to form a blues band.’
I couldn’t believe it. ‘Everybody’s forming bands these days.’
He began to reminisce: ‘I had an old kit in the spare room, years ago, when my wife was still alive. She used to tell me it sounded like I was building a shed up there.’
‘I bet she was lovely.’
‘Whatever. Anyways, I’ve made up my mind to really go for it this time - and book into your bloody studio. What do you reckon, eh?’
‘I’m sure it’s going to be a blessing for both of us, Reg,’ I told him.
Bouncing on the balls of his feet, a smile won his face. ‘See you later, Davy-boy.’ Somehow, it seemed to be a smile full of regret.
Filed under Musicians / Close Encounters / Drummers / Reg / Growing Old / Music / Recording Studio / Bands / 2 Comments »
