The Mutant Brain

Dio has rocked us for a long, long time

2010-05-18T15:06:00.001-07:00

...but now it's time to pass the torch.

Farewell Lil Ron. I shall endeavour to comedically review 'Long Live Rock'n'Roll' presently - it shall be a fitting reminder.

(insert maudlin stuff about rainbows and angels here)

Book Review!

2010-03-18T17:49:00.000-07:00

Anne Applebaum - Gulag

Took me a while, and at the end of it, I wished I'd spent my time on something less perversely, pointlessly and counter-productively skewed/biased - like a weakipedia article.

The Sound of Music has a curious effect on me - it gets me cheering for the Nazis. It's the only thing in existence to do this, and Anne's book is the equivalent in terms of Stalinism. Didn't take long before I was cheering for little, deformed Jozef and wanting to print my own "Go Solovestsky!" t-shirts. All on account of her stupidly twisted portrayal. Any normal person would have presented the horrors of the Gulag and taken a step back from the horror in disgust. I know I would. But no, not Anne.

Let's spend more time trying to link the Gulag to Communism, Socialism, Marxism, Leninism, Trotskyism, even the British Fucking Labour Party than we will spend trying to point out the pointless, brutal corruption that was Stalinism. Hell, whilst we're at it, let's chuck in an obtuse defence of McCarthy. Stupid, stupid woman. All those resources at her disposal, all that horror to expose, and she spends a welter of her time on a ridiculous politicial polemic. She doesn't deserve the archival access she attained. But then, she doesn't deserve the eyes that evolution/god/reagan gave her, either.

A waste of resources, time, effort, brainpower and clever font. Anne? Fuck off.

Cheers, ta, bye.

Rainbows Rising All Over The Blimmin' Place

2009-07-11T14:55:00.000-07:00

I'm so prolific, it's unebelievable! LESS than 4 months after my last blog, here I am again, babbling away and hoping against hope to complete a blog about lil' Ron and his master, Ritchie Blackcape, and their second foray into the music making and stuff.

1976 - Rainbow Rising

This is where it all started for me and lil' Ron. Clearly, it wasn't the beginning beginning, as we've already covered the beginning beginning in the last post. Well, the Rainbow beginning at any rate. And to be honest, when I say this is where it all started, it wasn't actually in 1976. No. That was when the album was made, yes. But I didn't hear it in all seriousness until possibly 1983 when my metal mania was just beginning to take hold. But it was one of the first, mainly due to the fact that my Dad had a copy on tape and so, with the other tiny metal pockets in his record collection (Black Sabbath Volume 4, Led Zeppelin 2 (AET)) became my real introduction to the Land Of The Riff. And in this case, the land of the Rainbows!!!
By the way, my Dad made his own tiny metal pockets, it was the kind of things Dads did in those days. Dads today just don't have the know-how nor the craftmanship. I should know, I am one, and I can't make a bloody thing. Except omelettes. Good at omelettes.

Anyway back to Lil' Ron and his taskmaster. What did they cook up for us this time I hear you ask. Well actually, on paper, not much. Just a measly 6 tracks! And Side 2 only had 2 of those on it (my Dad initially had this on vinyl with the labels on the wrong side, but for some reason swapped it for something else - probably worth a bazillion quid now, Dad! Could have made for a bionic hip that!)

Anyway, 6 tracks. And that side 2 duo? Possibly my favourite 2 tracks of my teenage years!!!! Let's take a look inside shall we?

Tracks:
1. Tarot Woman
In which Lil' Ron has a bad experience at the fair. No, honestly, I think he does. He's enticed in by said Tarot Woman of the title. "She can take you there, the entrance to the fair". And she does to. Not sure if this is a contemporary tale or one from Lil' Ron's Lil'er youth (perhaps it was contemporary and the scary Tarot lady just mistook him for a small (but clearly ugly) child), but regardless, it obviously blighted his tiny little mind for a while. He didn't want to go ("no, no, no") but he does because of some lines in the sand. I'm thinking it was probably Southport Funland (which isn't in the south, at a port, any fun or, well ok, it was on land, but 1 out of 4 is quite poor, I think you'll agree). Anyhoo, there's plenty of sand there and am sure there are lines on it that point to the fair. He was there, I'm sure.

Then he sees someone with a bright shiny face and that scares him because the next thing you know, he's never going back. I'm thinking sunburnt scousers are a distinct possibility here. Anyway, he still finds time to ride the carousel which leaves him under the delusion that he can fly (again! Always with the bloody flying Ron, why can't you leave it man? If God had've meant you to fly he'd have...er, well if evolution had intended you to fly, you'd have...well, look, it isn't meant to be, ok? Give it a rest.) Turns out she isn't even a very good Tarot Woman. "I'll never return. How do you know? Tarot Woman? I don't know, I don't know, I don't know." Fiver down the drain there Ron, fiver down the drain.

Rainbow Rating: 0
Good vs Evil/Black vs White Rating: 3 (not so much a battle as a misrepresentation under the trades description act, but there's blackness there, to be sure)
Holy Goddamn Sailing Mountain Temple in the Tower Rating: 0 (c'mon, Southport beach?)
Average Writing Age: 5 ("her love is like a knife, she'll carve away your life"!!!!)
Lung-busting Rock God Singalongability: 5
TOTAL SCORE: 13

2. Run With The Wolf
See, already you know you're onto better things. There's a wolf in the title, that gets you all mystical and wondery already, doesn't it? Go on, you think you're in the Chronicles of Thomas Covenant now, don't you? In mystical forests and stuff. You do, you know you do.

Anyway, this wolf falls through a hole in the sky on the sound of the wind, fulfilling tales the "old ones" used to tell. Spooky, eh? AND there's unholy light in this one. Can't fail. You also can't beat the way Lil' Ron snaps out the title, like he's a Lil' Wolfman himself. Great stuff!!!

Rainbow Rating: 0 (you're starting to think he never sings about Rainbows that much now aren't you? It'll come, trust me)
Good vs Evil/Black vs White Rating: 8 (sure, there's no actual bloodshed, but the wolf 'bites and snaps' and is a bit spooky and the unholy light indicates somebody from the dark side clearly had a vested interest in the performance of the wolf on this particular day when he fell through the hole in the sky - indeed "something evil's passing by" at the time, but I suppose that might be coincidence, I'll have to ask)
Holy Goddamn Sailing Mountain Temple in the Unholy Light Rating: 7 (I like it when things are lit by things unholy - actually, unholy doesn't have to be bad does it? I'm unholy and I'm quite nice most of the time - it's a light that isn't a pious preachy "look at me, I'm a light, you should be a light like me" kind of light, so it's actually probably quite an alright light now I think about it. I may have to review the rating for this one.)
Average Writing Age: 15 (possibly one of his best efforts to date, it's rarely embarrassing)
Lung-busting Rock God Singalongability: 8
TOTAL SCORE: 38

3. Starstruck
We're advancing all the time now. We have stars in the title and that always indicates the Lil' Ron has upped his game a little bit. But it isn't as mystery-laden as you might hope. No, this is Ron telling us he has groupies who follow him around everywhere. Or at least pretending he has. It kind of smacks of desperation a little bit. You can imagine Ritchie and Cozy Powell trading groupie tales and Lil' Ron trying to join in: "yeah, I had a girl look at me once, and not even in a malicious way. And she followed me. Yes, she definitely followed me and up the stairs and everything." Ritchie: "Did you shag her Lil' Ron?". "Er, no. She was bad luck."

And so a song was born. Lil' Ron claiming he gets the girls but clearly any he did get were mingers (evidenced by line "she wants a photograph, and everybody laughs"). Poor Ron.

Rainbow Rating: 0
Good vs Evil/Black vs White Rating: 4 (this is Lil' Ron railing against those letchy bandmates of his)
Holy Goddamn Sailing Mountain Temple in the Tower Rating: 1 (for the opening 'high on a hill' line which promises much but fails to deliver)
Average Writing Age: 11 (possibly higher given Ron's seemingly stunted emotional development)
Lung-busting Rock God Singalongability: 9 (man, belt this one out!)
TOTAL SCORE: 25

4. Do You Close Your Eyes
Lil' Ron, ridiculed in the last song, goes a step further, no doubt goaded by Ritchie Blackmask: "bet you've never even slept with a woman, have you Ron?". Ron: "I have too." Ritchie: "What was it like then." Ron: "I, er, well, I don't know. I, er, had me eyes closed. Yes, closed my eyes I did. Doesn't everyone?"

And another song was born.

Mystery to Ron, is something he can't see. That's invisible to most people, Ron, in-vis-ib-le. He actually says "making sweet love" as well. Funny.

And he's clearly not versed in the way of the woman by this stage: "Open your arms 'cause I'm coming." Wrong appendages, Ron! I hope Big Ritchie gave you some advice.

Rainbow Rating: 0 (c'mon Ron, you could have made sweet love under a rainbow at least!)
Good vs Evil/Black vs White Rating: 1 (there are no battles here, Ron is devoid of fight at this point, crippled by the masculinity of the rest of the band, the poor little tyke)
Holy Goddamn Sailing Mountain Temple in the Tower Rating: 0 (it's about sweet, sweet lovemaking, there's no Holy Goddamn Mountains or nothing)
Average Writing Age: 12 (no older and no younger, this is definitely a 12 year olds song)
Lung-busting Rock God Singalongability: 4
TOTAL SCORE: 17

5. Stargazer
We're here at last. A bona fide classic. 8+ minutes of fantasy-inspired nonsense that really takes you to another place. And not Southport this time, either. It opens like this:
"High noon, oh I'd sell my soul for water
Nine years worth of breakin' my back
There's no sun in the shadow of the wizard
See how he glides, why he's lighter than air?
Oh I see his face!
Where is your star?
Is it far, is it far, is it far?
When do we leave?
I believe, yes, I believe"

And Ron sings it with such passion and belief you think it must actually have happened to him and perhaps that's why he's so small - its curvature of the spine after doing hard labour for the local wizard!

"In the heat and the rain
With whips and chains
To see him fly
So many die
We build a tower of stone
With our flesh and bone
Just to see him fly
But don't know why
Now where do we go?"

So he gets a job as a labourer, the work dries up, and there's nowhere for them to go. The bloody wizard lays them all off, no redundancy money, no guarantee of a job in the future, he's got his tower (at some cost to the workers, it has to be said) and that's that, off you go little curvy-spined people, do not darken my door again.

He gets his comeuppance though, falls down he does (a bit too much like Saruman methinks), off of his tower. And Lil' Ron and his hobbity mates are free!

To be honest, this is awesome, it builds and builds and Ron is just off on one for the last 3 minutes, going home then not going home, his ears bleeding and all sorts. It's fantastic - it was my favourite song for a very long time, and even now I like to warble along to it from time to time. The legend of Ron was born here.

Rainbow Rating: 7 (there's one rising here, look - on the horizon!)
Good vs Evil/Black vs White Rating: 10 (how much more good vs evil can you get - it has a very bad wizard in it, it's a fantastical allegory for socialist struggle against capitalist wizard pigs)
Holy Goddamn Sailing Mountain Temple in the Tower Rating: 10 (towers a-plenty here)
Average Writing Age: 15 (he never gets past 15, trust me, so this is the pinnacle)
Lung-busting Rock God Singalongability: 10
TOTAL SCORE: 52

6. A Light In The Black
Another 8+ minutes of fantastical nonsense, this is quite literally, a sequel to Stargazer, and almost as bloody good, too! This is just Ron mesmerised by his own brilliance in the last song really. He's pondering the look on the wizard's face a lot (which is really him pondering how well he wrote about the bloody wizard in the last song). It doesn't quite scale the heights of Stargazer but the two together work wonderfully well - he's still coming home on this one, getting over that crazy dream the wizard dude had about building towers out of flesh and bone and the light in the black is what's calling him home. That and the thought of a decent meal and not having to sleep in orc shit.

Rainbow Rating: 1 (it gets a point because its the sequel to previously mentioned rainbows)
Good vs Evil/Black vs White Rating: 10 (its still the same battle, albeit just the soft mushy aftermath)
Holy Goddamn Sailing Mountain Temple in the Tower Rating: 10 (we're still talking towers as well, aren't we, and lights in the gloom)
Average Writing Age: 13
Lung-busting Rock God Singalongability: 10
TOTAL SCORE: 44

So there you have it - Lil' Ron doing great things. Long Live Rock'n'Roll, eh? (That's next, folks!)

We Aren't For Passing The Torch Just Yet

2009-03-24T17:02:00.001-07:00

Hello Mutant Brainers. I am the second coming. He of which shoelace foretold in the dim and distant past (Monday, I think it was). Anyway, I’m here now, so let’s rattle along shall we?

Bit difficult knowing where to start given that shoelace (can't I just call you Dave, Dave?) has already covered most topics known to man, but one area where I do hold the upper hand is with ‘The Rock’. So let’s start with the oldest little exponent of ‘The Rock’, the man who dreams of rainbows in the dark and other spangly stuff: Mr Ronald James Dio.

I’m not sure but I think I’m probably alone in selecting the track ‘Dio’ as my highlight of Tenacious D, the debut album from Jack Black’s comedy metal vehicle of the same name. When I say alone, I guess I mean alone in the UK as Dio (the man and the band) is a bigger fish in the States than he ever was here and I’m sure there are lots of other people like Black who hold him in equally high regard. Mind you, I’ve never met any of them, so maybe I am on my own. But I had my reasons…

You see, Dio was the man you listened to whilst you read The Lord Of The Rings. He was the man you turned to when you’d outgrown Grange Hill. He was there throughout my teenage years, leaving an indelible mark in my psyche, forever in thrall to rainbows and gypsies and hearts and souls and mysteries.

Looking back, it all seems a bit odd. You love The Lord Of The Rings mainly because of when you read it, when you were fresh and young and desperate to absorb something new and stimulating. Dio worked in the same way. And so this is a blast through my past as well as little Ronnie’s, an affectionate yet slightly embarrassing trawl through the records he made and I loved like only a teenage boy could. Actually, most of them are still rather grand today.

To be honest, I’m going to skip a whole chunk of Ronnie’s career (a poor start, I know, but he had a poor start too, so I think we’re evens). There’s a whole 60s back-catalogue we could wrestle with for starters, but it isn’t very interesting. Or very well known about. Particularly by me. I’m not even going to touch on the self-deprecatingly named Rainbow pre-cursor, Elf. Mainly because I don’t know much about that either other than Ritchie Blackmore decided to steal the whole band when they supported Deep Purple and then sacked them all except Ronnie within months of making the first album.

Where we will start though is with Ronnie’s first mainstream adventures fronting Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow. Now I always wonder what came first here – I mean, did Ronnie’s obsession with rainbows lead to the band being named just that, or did he take inspiration from Blackmore’s name for the band and simply run with it. For the rest of his career.

I like to think that he already had the obsession and that the pair had an almighty falling out simply trying to name the band. This doesn’t seem unreasonable as both egos were apparently as big as Ronnie’s voice around that time.

Ronnie: “I want my band to be called Rainbow.”
Ritchie: “But it’s my band, and I want it named Ritchie Blackmore’s…Band.”
Ronnie: “Well I ain’t gonna sing in no vehicle for some schmuck guitarist.” (Ronnie really talks like that, honest!)
Ritchie: “Pray tell, Ronald, who was the most famous, was it Elf or was it Deep Purple? We shall use my name, it will sell The Records.”
Ronnie: “But it has no mystique.”
Ritchie: “That is my name of which you speak.”
Ronnie: “It has no colour, no symbolism.”
Ritchie: “I should punch you in the face, where it not for your diminuitive stature. I shall make do with hammering on the top of your head.”
Ronnie: “It’s f*cking boring, man.”
Ritchie thumps Ronnie on top of his head.
Ronnie: “Alright big guy. How about we compromise?”
Ritchie: “Might I suggest, then, Ritchie Blackmore’s Band?”
Ronnie: “You can suggest it now for all I care, but how is it a compromise?”
Ritchie: “I’m acknowledging your part in the ‘band’. Oh, and that of these other four losers here who I’ll be sacking just as soon as we’ve settled on a name.”
Ronnie: “I need a rainbow.”
Ritchie: “Well, it would have to be my rainbow, because it’s my band.”
Ronnie: “Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow?”
Ritchie: “Hmm, I like the sound of that.”
Ronnie: “But it’s my rainbow. I caught it. It’s mine.”
Ritchie: “Shall I fire you, too, Ronald?”
Ronnie: “No.”
Ritchie: “That’s that settled then, Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow it is. What shall we call the album?”
Ronnie: “Ronnie James Dio’s Rainbow?”
Ritchie: “Don’t be silly, Ronnie. Oh did I mention that I’m sacking the rest of the band?”
Ronnie: “But they’re my Elf buddies…”
Ritchie: “This is Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow – you will do as I say…”

And thus was Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow born, although we all know that really it was lil’ Ronnie Dio’s rainbow. A point he would make repeatedly, to breaking point in fact, over the next 20 years.

Artist: Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow (later, just Rainbow)
Album: Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow (later, still Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow, nobody changes album titles retrospectively, you nutjob)

So the madrigal guitar player and his fantasy obsessed sidekick singer set off into the world playing merry little tunes, some of which DO NOT contain the word rainbow! However, the cover has a glorious rainbow on it, plus a castle (although Ritchie obviously insisted that it be a castle MADE FROM A GUITAR). The clash between the two titans was obvious, right from the album artwork…

Tracks:
1. Man On The Silver Mountain
Ronnie is the man on the mountain. The man on the silver mountain. We never find out where the mountain is, but we do know it is silver. Whether that’s a natural phenomena or whether someone has covered it in something silver isn’t made clear either. What we do know is that Ronnie is a wheel that can roll (useful) and feel (er, different) and that he claims we can’t stop him turning. His reasoning behind this is apparently because he’s also the sun and he can move and run and we’ll never stop him burning. Which is just what I would have said if you’d have asked me to explain why you couldn’t stop me turning.

It’s true to say that the template for every Dio lyric ever written was set in stone right there and then with that opening salvo. Preposterously non-sensical and with a rhyming scheme the average 7 year old would be embarrassed by, it’s a pattern that rarely changes but which somehow, you OVERLOOK, because, well, because Ronnie sings it so darned fantastically. He’s that good.

Notable also for the first mention of the word Holy in a Dio lyric and the common theme of good vs evil and black vs white. Things to watch for later.

Rainbow Rating: 0 (not a solitary mention)
Good vs Evil/Black vs White Rating: 9
Holy Goddamn Sailing Mountain Rating: 10
Average Writing Age: 4
Lung-busting Rock God Singalongability: 10
TOTAL SCORE: 33

2. Self Portrait
Less gung-ho than the opener, this is more low key musically and lyrically. Again, there are no rainbows, but the day/night, dark/light theme is clearly apparent again and once more Ronnie is going on about how he feels (although he isn’t saying he’s a wheel anymore).

Rainbow Rating: 0
Good vs Evil/Black vs White Rating: 7
Holy Goddamn Sailing Mountain Rating: 2
Average Writing Age: 9
Lung-busting Rock God Singalongability: 6
TOTAL SCORE: 24

3. Black Sheep Of The Family
A cover version and thus not likely to score very well. Quite how Ritchie forced Ronnie to sing about teacups is a mystery (as is the line, “I’ve got a pocket full of dust and eating is a must”!!!). The only saving grace is that it has the word ‘shadow’ in it and one can only assume that Ronnie liked that, and that it was enough.

Rainbow Rating: -2
Good vs Evil/Black vs White Rating: 1
Holy Goddamn Sailing Mountain Rating: 0
Average Writing Age: 4
Lung-busting Rock God Singalongability: 1
Shadow bonus point: 1
TOTAL SCORE: 5

4. Catch The Rainbow
Now this is more like it. A ballad, but a fine sweeping and gentle one that gleefully avoids all the pitfalls that later rock ballads would always fall into. Ronnie croons like a good ‘un and gets to say ‘rainbow’. Lots.

Also, life isn’t a wheel (we know, that’s you Ronnie, you’re a wheel) and chains make their first outing. More of them later.

Rainbow Rating: 10
Good vs Evil/Black vs White Rating: 2
Holy Goddamn Sailing Mountain Rating: 8
Average Writing Age: 12
Lung-busting Rock God Singalongability: 5 (but Croonability bonus points: 5)
Bonus Chains Made Of Steel point: 1
TOTAL SCORE: 43

5. Snake Charmer
This is a crap song with crap lyrics that don’t even go near anything mystical. He mentions the word mystery a couple of times, but really, his heart isn’t in it. Move on.

Rainbow Rating: 0
Good vs Evil/Black vs White Rating: 0
Holy Goddamn Sailing Mountain Rating: 0
Average Writing Age: 3½
Lung-busting Rock God Singalongability: 0
Bonus Shadows point: 1
TOTAL SCORE: 4½

6. The Temple Of The King
Now we really are cooking on Ronnie Gas! Temples, Kings, The Year of The Fox (savour just how well Ronnie snaps at the word ‘fox’), a young man and tolling bells. It’s all there and it thunders along on a whip-cracking Ritchie riff to transport you to another world. The world of Ronnie, where the shine in a man’s eyes reveals all you need to know about the world.

I’m off to the Temple meself now. I’ll catch you later.

Rainbow Rating: 0
Good vs Evil/Black vs White Rating: 6
Holy Goddamn Sailing Mountain Temple Rating: 10
Average Writing Age: 13
Lung-busting Rock God Singalongability: 10
Bonus Year of The Fox poinst: 4
TOTAL SCORE: 43

7. If You Don’t Like Rock’n’Roll
An odd song if you ever take the time to look at the lyrics. Basically there are a bunch of people wandering around with signs (with black letters on them!) that say what you should do if you don’t like rock’n’roll. One is a ‘usual lady’. Not sure why there’s a need to make that distinction. Perhaps Ronnie was just concerned that we didn’t think he tried to pull unusual ladies. Ladymen ladies perhaps? With their sexy lady bits and their sexy men bits too? Who knows. It’s a jaunty little number but best forgotten about really.

Rainbow Rating: 0
Good vs Evil/Black vs White Rating: 0
Holy Goddamn Sailing Mountain Temple Rating: 0
Average Writing Age: 12
Lung-busting Rock God Singalongability: 2
TOTAL SCORE: 14

8. Sixteenth Century Greensleeves
Towers! Mad men! Green sleeves! Fire Spire Higher rhyming schemes! Crossbows! Flames! Drawbridges! Bright Light Night rhyming schemes! Truly, a lyrical genius was born at this very point in time (1975, I mean, not the 16th century). A totally mad song, but fun nonetheless. Let yourself go, you were happily sauntering up a silver mountain earlier, what have you got to lose?

Rainbow Rating: 0
Good vs Evil/Black vs White Rating: 10
Holy Goddamn Sailing Mountain Temple in the Tower Rating: 10
Average Writing Age: 14
Lung-busting Rock God Singalongability: 10
Bonus Pyre/Fire avoidance point: 1
TOTAL SCORE: 45

9. Still I’m Sad
Another cover version, this time of a Yardbirds track and so immune from any lyrical Ronnie-isms, although there are stars and tears and you’d guess that this was Ronnie’s pick this time. And maybe it was but guess what. Ritchie turns it into an instrumental, rendering Ronnie toothless in the battle for power.

And it definitely sounds like The Lion Sleeps Tonight! [I told him that, cementheads. Yes, I'm intruding already]

Rainbow Rating: 0
Good vs Evil/Black vs White Rating: 3 (for the Ritchie/Ronnie battle)
Holy Goddamn Sailing Mountain Temple in the Tower Rating: 0
Average Writing Age: 7
Lung-busting Rock God Singalongability: 0
TOTAL SCORE: 10

[TBC. At least, I bloody well hope so. Yes, it's me again]

Is he a Yankee? No I'm a Londoner.

2009-03-23T12:23:00.000-07:00

I'm not really, I'm as Mancunian as rain. Still 100% Street Tuff, though.

So yeah, how are you all? Really? Sorry to hear it. Still, we all have our problems, yours aren't mine, so fuck off. I'll start again.

So yeah, hi and that. Two reasons for this post - the first is to use the title. I have more titles than reasons for posting, that one was too good to be forgotten. Hmmn, there's a song in there somewhere. A shit song, but a song all the same. Sorry, I've started swearing again. I'll go out and come back in and start anew.

So yeah, The Mutant Brain is changing. Well, not right now it isn't. Although it is, because I'm typing words into it that weren't there before, so it is kind of changing. But that isn't the change to which I refer. The change to which I refer is a different change, one that hasn't happened yet, namely a rationalisation, overhaul and general lick of heavy duty lead-based paint. Some bits will go (not the sPazAmps, there'd be nothing left for me to read back to myself and chuckle knowingly) - probably Superbean, he deserves a place of his own, somewhere where his full, incredible, largely made-up story can be told in full. Things will generally be trimmed down, and other bits will be tarted up. There will also be a new contributor, notionally to balance out my random, spiky bile-fuelled literary effluent. He's far more whimsical than I, and generally of a far sunnier disposition by nature than I can manage to pretend to be. Don't worry though, I shall carefully vet any contributions to ensure that the tone isn't lightened too far and, if necessary, stick some random swearing in. I'm a tyrant! A despot! A liar!

So be nice, and read them with dutiful care.

GET OUT.

IT DOESN'T MATTER if you just bought a fresh Bentley.

2009-02-27T11:49:00.000-08:00

A pocket full of cheese to the first to guess the song. Note: no actual cheese will be gifted or in anyway transferred.

So, hello! Oof, that was a bit cheery, sorry. So, yeah. Hi. That's better, much better. Few things I want to get through, but I'll probably do one and then get distracted by something shiny - I'm incredibly shallow like that. In fact, Shallow could be my middle name, if it wasn't already Tiberius. It's not that, either, to be honest. Either way, it's not Shallow. But it could be. Christ what a load of old waffle. I, David Tito L. apologise.

So, just in case I don't bother finishing before being distracted, here are the top topics tickling my titanium cranium this Friday evening. Twitter, Dr. Hook, Inadvertantly Threatening Songs, Something Else That I've Already Forgotten.

So, here goes. I promise I won't be starting every paragraph with "so". It isn't a theme or anything.

Twitter
Shitter, more like. Haha. Not really, I just couldn't resist typing it. I had a sudden urge to sound like a right twat, the sort most commonly encountered down the pub expounding on Football. "Arshavin? ARSEshaving more like! Huurrrrr hurrrr huuurrr ARSEshaving hurrr yeah? Hurrr hurrr ARSE yeah? Yeah? Hurrr hurrr hurrr" [unnecessarily forceful elbow nudge] "hurrr hurrr yeah? ARSE hurrr hurrrr". They will be drinking Stella.

Anyway. Twitter. I use it, obviously. It's a means of directing my tedious waffle at an uncaring internets, so of course I use it. But it's so utterly irritating and infuriating too. How am I meant to limit myself to 140 characters? I yawn longer than that (usually when other people talk to me). But that's not the real irritant though, oh no (obviously I manage to find a use for it at times), not by a long chalk. It's the "celebrities" - and more particularly, the clods who reply to their tweets, like they're really good friends and that. BIGFATCHRISMOYLES "I ated nineteen pies today" RANDOM INTERNET SPOD "Oh LOL Chris! I luv piez 2! We cud b twinz!" Fuckers. And that's the other thing - txt spk n shit in tweets. The only really vaguely intriguing element is trying to fit something other than an update on your feeding habits into the character limit "Had breakfast. Was nice. Yum". Usin da txt spk n shit just makes a mockery of the whole challenge "Had brek 2day cocopops is gr8 they make da milk ded brwn n shit LOL RIP in piece brekfust I 8ed u so gud HAHAHA xx tb xx". I have no idea if that example is of sufficient length or not, nor do I have any inclination to check with my counting finger. Still, fuckers, the lot of them. Also, I've accumulated a random follower who already follows nearly a thousand others. Haven't a clue who she is, daft bint.

Dr. Hook
Short one, this. Hopefully. I revealed to the world, via the medium of Twitter, that I listened to two separate Dr. Hook songs today. I've listened to lots more since I got home, but that's not the point. One of the songs that the spazPod injected into my earspace on the tram home today was "You Ain't Got the Right". Meant to be sad, with wry humour. The wry humour is there, but unfortunately the sad is negated entirely by the inadvertant humour (they'll reappear in the Inadvertantly Threatening Songs section, but more on that later). See, Denis Locorriere - he's the main singer, the one without the eyepatch but with the bobbly head and stupid hair on the video for the really shit famous song of theirs that isn't Sylvia's mother, you know the one, it's always on TOTP2 and VH1 - he tries to inject some real, genuine, gritty emotion in his sings. Sometimes, he overdoes it. Give it a listen, go on. Starts well enough, proper singing, little bit wistful, little bit country, little bit good. Then Denis starts on the verse. By the time he gets to "all her pretty clothes were gone" around 50s in, the catch sneaks into his quavering voice, and the seeds of musical destruction are sown (might be exaggerating a little there, but you know what I mean. At least you do if you've been listening along), and by the time it hits Denis croaking "oh no no" melodramatically behind the following chorus, the giggles have started. He interrupts each and every chorus thereafter in a similar, and increasingly desperate fashion. It's awesome. Awesomely amusing. And just generally awesome. Oh no, no NO NOOOO NOOO *sob*

I'm listening to it right now.

What was the other thing? *scrolls up* Oh yeah, Inadvertantly Threatening Songs.

Inadvertantly Threatening Songs
This is prompted today by Dr. Hook, but is something that I've touched upon before (ooer). It all began with Tom Jones. Doesn't everything? Truly, he is the creosoted creator of all greatness. Incidentally, if you haven't already done so, I reckon you should acquaint yourselves with the Tom Jones Redemption Memorial sPazAmp (Hnngh!), which can be found here. Yes, yes, I know. You all have it bookmarked and read it daily, understanding that it constitutes the very pinnacle of my whimsically amusing output (just edging out my Colossal Cave Adventure sPazAmp of Doom. Quite depressing reading them back, I was so much funnier back then.) Where was I? I wandered re-reading my own awesomeness and listening to The Tom (looks like you got LOVE-ITIS!). Oh yes, that.

See, it began with "She's a Lady" and "I (Who Have Nothing)". Go listen to them thoroughly, then come back and carry on reading. Back? You did good, your ears will thank you (if they actually do thank you, seek specialist help, that isn't normal). First, She's a Lady. In Tom's world, to qualify to be a "lady" is to not ask for much, don't get in the way, say some nice things, and - if you're really lucky - he might not punch you. Oh, and be good at doing sex at him. But he'll likely as not punch you anyway, so you better have a strong chin (she can take what I dish out, and that's not easy. Cock-based boast, or thumping-based observation? You decide). It all means well, but those are some hugely sinister and orange undertones. Like Fergal Sharkey wearing a cape in a tanning salon. Still a might fine song. As is "I (Who Have Nothing)", which widdles all over the leathery lunged Shirley Bassey version (no, I'm not gay, it just sounds that way sometimes). It's all covered in the other post, but it bears repeating.

All very dramatic and heartfelt, enough to stir the most unstirrable of cold, slimy, walnutty hearts (like mine). But then - "he can take you anyplace he wants, to fancy clubs and rest-o-ronts, and I can only watch you with my nose pressed up against the window pane". So there you are, having dinner, possibly with a swoonsome, foxy tycoon type. He treats you right, buys things (like diamonds, bright sparkling diamonds), and feeds you food in rest-o-ronts. You couldn't be happier. You're being swept off your feet, seduced by talk of the Riviera and Venice. You're very likely moistening. And then, oh, and then. You look up. There's a pair of starey eyes, a mop of unruly hair and an oversized circle of condensation with an orange leathery Welshness splodged against the window pane behind it. It'd put you off your nosh at the very least, and possibly lead to a restraining order.

And then there's Dr. Hook. Short and snappy, it's all in the song "A Little Bit More". When your body's had enough of me, and I'm laying flat out on the floor. When you think I've loved you all I can, I'm going to love a little bit more. In fact, I'm going to wait until you're asleep with aching thighs, then I'm going to slip it in when you least expect it. I'm a sex pest! I sleep on the floor! Surprise sex! My friend Ray has an eyepatch! Sordid.

No, I can't remember the other thing. Still, I reckon that's enough - if nothing else, it contains links to the twin peaks of musical witterings, with pictures.

BEGONE.

Weh mir, oh weh

2009-01-30T12:38:00.000-08:00

That's German, that. You can have that nugget of linguistic marvel for FREE, motherfucker. A little bit of polyglot self-pity, just for you, and you, and yooooo-hoooo-ooooo. Sorry, turned into Jim'll Fix It, there. Hopefully your head is as full of jewelry-bedecked old duffers in tracksuits bouncing nippers on their knees and leering at them as mine is. It would only be fair.

See, that's why I could never call this blogging. It's also why I could never write anything of any actual note. A cheap quip waves cheekily at me from across the textual way, I go steaming right in. I can't resist. Thomas Hardy's Return of the Native would have been a HELL of a lot funnier if I've written it. It would also have never have been published.

Anyway, I realised I hadn't stained the internet with any of my brain juice this year (well, I have, just not here), so I thought I should rectify it. And now I have.

Weh mir, oh weh indeed.

What a Debaucherous Bunch of Ruddy Loons!

2008-12-30T09:38:00.000-08:00

Yeah, lyrics again, no special pertinence. And yeah, I preferred it when it was Judge Dredd swears, too.

You know what I noticed today? Well, not just today, I've noticed lots over a large period of time. I'll start again. Next paragraph please.

You know what I clearly noticed enough to be moved to come home and type at the internets about? Well, I'll tell you. There aren't half a lot of steamingly ugly people around. I have it on good authority that it is acceptable practice to peep about the place when you're sat on the tram/bus (or whatever) with your headphones on (or not, as the case may be) clocking people and briefly, idly evaluating them. Y'know "would, wouldn't, probably would, ugh no that's a man, eight pints would", that sort of thing. Well the only words that seem to pop into my head are things like "waxen-headed harpy", "plastic-faced troll", "sow-visaged mutant", "good christ, what the FUCK is that all about", "balding, orange, ham-armed midget". Most unpleasant.

Yes, I know. It is a good job that I'm perfect.

Another box of Mr. Kipling's Mince Pies appeared in my kitchen yesterday (I think they must be on offer at the Spar or something. Well, it's actually a Nisa now, not a Spar, but whatever). Leaving aside the fact that they are criminally horrible (quite pleased that Christmas has now fucked off, to be quite astonishingly frank), the competition and prize plastered all over the offending box quite intrigued me. See, the prize for the competition (can't remember what the competition was, probably a quest to see if you eat three of them without pulling a disgusted face or something) took the form of family tickets to see your all-time favourite pantomime. Well, what if my all-time favourite pantomime happened to be "Hot Danish Festive Lesbotic Lady and the Seven Equally Lesbicious Minge-a-holic Dwarfs"? Firstly, I think it is outrageously, nay, criminally irresponsible of Mr. Kipling to want to send a family to something like that - a family might reasonably be assumed to contain children, and I hardly think that ninety minutes of lusty midget ladies having a go on each others lady bits is suitable fare for children. Secondly, I think it is a quite ludicrous proposition of Mr. Kipling to offer me tickets to something that patently doesn't exist.

And that concludes my report on Christmas 2008. I'd like to thank a bottle of Sailor Jerry's Spiced Rum for allowing me to survive it with minimal long-term damage. Thanks, Bottle of Sailor Jerry's Spiced Rum for allowing me to survive Christmas 2008 with minimal long-term damage. There, I did it.

Now all we need is for New Year's Eve to fuck off, and I'll be a happier man. Well, marginally less rancorous, at any rate. I mean, really. What is the point? What is the strange passion that grips people and sends them out in their droves, grimly determined to enjoy themselves no matter how unlikely a proposal it is? I know, let's go to a pub/bar/club/brothel that we like, one we often go to and actually do have fun. Only for this one night, let's queue up for three hours and pay £30 for the privilege of entry even though it's free the rest of the year (if you chose brothel, then that bit probably doesn't apply. You probably have to pay for, ahem, "entry" most of the rest of the year, too). And then struggle to get drunk enough to be able to delude ourselves we're having fun, failing in the struggle because getting served takes three hours because they've let about a hundred more people than the fire safety licence actually allows, and you're trapped, pressed up against hordes of grey-faced sweating retards, equally grimly determined to convince themselves and the world that they ARE HAVING FUN. So grimly determined that they may occasionally attempt to hug you, or put their arm around your shoulders with an inordinate amount of force, squeezing tightly to try and squeeze the reality out of their tiny, malfunctioning brains. In one last, stomach-turning hurrah, one final assault on the Fortress of Fun, they'll sing. But they won't just sing, they'll be possessed an urge to hold your hand with their wrong hand and pump it violently whilst bellowing out the first line of Auld Lang Syne over and over because they are too feebly mongoloidy to know the rest of it. And heaven help if you don't want to sing. They'll probably shove a chair in your face for being a SPOILSPORT, a SCROOGE (even though that's Christmas and cock all to do with New Year), and RUINING THEIR LOVELY FUN. Grim-faced twats. Then, to top it all off, you have to wait nineteen hours in a freezing cold taxi rank with the retards, get bottled and/or stabbed, and pay the driver £80 for the privilege even though the same journey only costs about £12.

Reckon I'll stay in tomorrow.

See you next year! Hahaha, haha, ha. Ha. Ohhh, I'm so FUNNY.

Black is the Colour (of my Cat's Fur)...

2008-12-12T09:51:00.000-08:00

...is just one of the songs on this album, apparently. It's a real, actual, purchasable album. And really, you have to ask the question.

FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK WHY?

Also, neither of your cats appear to be black. Racist.

I am an Admiral of the Sea!

2008-12-02T15:33:00.000-08:00

I am, you know. No, no of course I'm not really. I'm just regurgitating bits of Grant Hart. Well, his lyrics, at any rate (from when he decided it would be a good idea to have a band, call it Nova Mob, and employ a ludicrously rudimentary drummer, instead of doing the sensible thing and playing all the instruments himself like he did on the first solo thing), I haven't cooked and eaten him. That would be horrible. Imagine that. Me cooking and eating Grant Hart. I might get addicted to the residual traces of heroin or something. Outrageous.

Anyway, having shamed myself defending Kingmaker, I thought I better do something else. Couldn't decide what - a sPazTune is a significant time investment, but I haven't seen any films recently (my shit film downloading and watching volumes have fallen off a cliff this year, no fun anymore). I've done waffling and being musically semi-serious (explicitly, I mean. I know it annoyingly creeps into the sPazTunes & sPazAmps. I try to keep it out, but sometimes there is no denying the pompous outpourings their egress). So, we'll have some old film news (if I've done it before, tough. Ram it up your rusty sheriff badges and stop complaining) and then I'll do a sPazTune. Worst of every world!

The Mist
Was quite good, for a bit. On balance though, this review will fall into the "I've watched The Mist, now you don't have to" category. So if you're bothered by spoilers then a) don't read and b) stop being a dick and reading other people's accounts of watching films that you don't want to know things about. What are you, fucking retarded? What do you expect? Do you expect everyone to just express vaguely qualitative statements with no supporting evidence and hide any details in fluffy little spoiler tags? Get a grip. And watch better films, retard.

So yeah. First half hour or whatever was good. Ooh, strange mist! Ooh, soldiers! Doing odd things! Ooh, normal life, turned slightly to the side! Ooh, man panicking, shouting vague warnings, in the daylight, in a shop! Ooh, things getting slightly odder, mist closing in, strange creatures! Disbelief! Panic! Ooh, Thomas Jane can't act!

And then. Oh, and then. Shitty CGI. Issue of mine, that. Half-assed actual effects I don't mind - they allow the suspension of disbelief to continue more easily somehow, after all, we all know it's pretend. But CGI? Done badly, it jars in a really odd way. For some reason, my suspension of disbelief facilities work better with someone swiping convincingly at a badly realised actual thing than swiping utterly unconvincingly at a tremendously realised virtual thing. Why this should be, I don't know. Good CGI I like (very much enjoyed Cloverfield, against all my better instincts), bad CGI irks in a very particular way.

Worse was the ending (or more actually, the remainder of the film after the opening "normal world" bit). Not the brutality of the ending (he shoots everyone excepts himself, including his son. Don't complain that I've ruined it, we've been through this. HE SHOOTS HIS SON. PROBABLY IN THE HEAD). That's kinda cool, in a really severe, almost unexpected way. No, it's the way the troop-carriers trundle past shortly after, carrying all the god-bothering freaks to safety, with a lingering close up on one of the smug god-nuts looking at him (Thomas Jane), gazing on his despair, whilst being transported to happy non alien dimension based death. That's no death by alien dimension things, rather than death by any other means than that, terribly phrased I know. It turns the point of the film into "go on, believe in the nutty old testament god. Don't bother with caring for each other, or being helpful, oh no. Just go bonkers, sacrifice people with a giant knife, get giddy about it, do nothing else other than stab people and cheer, you'll be fine". Because that's what the film says. To me. And that's all that matters here, cementheads. Marcia Gay-Harden (hurr) even gets to die in a big Christ-like pose, even though she's a big god-nutter who advocates the ritual stabbing-up of random people. Tsk.

I case you missed it it, at the end of the film The Mist, Thomas Jane SHOOTS HIS OWN SON, POSSIBLY IN THE HEAD. BRUCE WILLIS IS A GHOST. IT'S KEVIN SPACEY, HE'S NOT REALLY A CRIPPLE. PEARL HARBOR IS SHIT.

In related other news, Cloverfield is quite good, as is No Country for Old Men (even though he only says "Friendo" once). Quite liked Hellboy 2, can't be fussed writing more than that about any of them, which is either faint praise or faint damns, I'm not sure. Probably won't do a sPazTune, that all depends on how bored I get in the next five minutes.

T'ra and that.

Defiled Goats

2008-11-28T16:12:00.000-08:00

Well, what else would be the opposite of a Sacred Cow? I'll probably do a Sacred Cow thing, I have so much hate for the perceivedly wonderful (yes Bob Dylan, I'm looking at you, you massive Nuclear-Powered Whiny Nasal Astro-Tramp. I'm also looking at you, Ringo "Thomas the Tank Shit Drummer" Starr, too. And the rest of the cocking Beatles), but for now I have a urge to address the opposite. Hence, Defiled Goats. Everyone automatically says they're shit, but they aren't, and they only say that because the Herd's brain-gonads instruct them to via the power of shit thinking and cloth ears.

Kingmaker (yay! it wasn't safety matches after all!). I liked them at the time. That time being the time they were making records. I also liked them at other times, but the time they were making records is the time I'm referring to atm the minute. Then I carried on with my weird and possibly, occasionally wonderful life and forgot about them a bit. I went through a couple of financially driven record purges, went out with a few people, lost a parent (turns out he was hiding behind the sofa. Bit after that he died, that was a lot sadder), trimmed a hedge or none, became obsessed with The Dubliners, went off them a bit, went to University two and a half times, drank my own weight in Rum, drank Rik Waller's weight in Rum, decided the Rum deserved a capital letter, found enjoyed betrayed lost and lamented largely the luminous love of my life, ate some cheese, had umpteen cups of coffee, owned upwards of four cars, expanded my jacket collection towards three figures, had a feud with the retards living opposite, got threatened with a machete in the name of work, spoke to about fourteen elderly South Asian doctors, renewed my hatred of public transport, passed thirty, obtained an extensive knowledge of cryptids because of millie (yeah, thanks for that. I also know what Pareiodal means, but I probably can't spell it. It's not Jesus, it's a shit photo), passed 37 (quite recent that one), boycotted a shop because they were mean to a remaining parent, smoked a bazillion cigarettes, swanned around displaying my awesomeness to the world, lost weight, put it back on again, proved that children's literature doesn't exist, subjected myself to all but one of the Harry Potter Books, and developed a burning, deep, abiding hatred of Russell Howard.

In short, I forgot about them. Then I remembered them (somewhat before a number of the things above happened - I couldn't stop, I was having too much fun). Then I remembered them, and had a listen to them. And they were just as good as I recalled, the most British of all the American sounding bands ever. If Grant Lee Buffalo, Buffalo Tom, or any large bovine themed American "alt" rock plaid wearing band had been subjected to a childhood in Hull, they'd sound like Kingmaker. A vast swathe of subsequent bands owe a huge debt to Loz and his cohorts. Yes, even Radiohead. Fair enough, no one does irritating sub-sixth form poetry lyrics better than the demented arse-weasel Thom Yorke and his chums, but Loz managed slightly above sixth form poetry lyrics. Neither are particularly impressive or deep, but Kingmaker's are decent percentage closer to being as clever as they think they are than Radioshed's are. And tunes? They had tunes coming out of their ears. Which probably caused a signifiant problem of its own, can't have been easy recording mighty impressive songs with shit cascading from your ears.

Thing is, when I reacquainted myself with their own, inimitable wonder, an esteemed associate of mine saw fit to comment (on one of my many organs of internet expression. Yeah, I'm cool. And no, you still can't touch me) something along the lines of "Kingmaker? Even Kingmaker haven't listened to themselves for fifteen years". Said esteemed colleague has, to my mind, quite a reasonable taste in music, but this wasn't enough to prevent the parrotting of a perceived mis-wisdom. Ears of cloth, and typing fingers made of battenburg. Or possibly battenberg, I can't be arsed looking it up.

So Kingmaker. Not shit at all, when you think about it. They had their moment, and then they had to endure their anti-moment where they mattered less than Midway Still (on another day, I'll point out why their version of "You Made Me Realize" widdles on My Bloody Valentine's original from the point where the top of the WTC used to be. I'll also mention how their autographs also reduced the retail value of one of their records. What the lord gives with one hand, he has a bunch of angels mercilessly mug you for with another). And now, I reckon, they should have another moment. A Kingmaker moment. I'm having one of them right now. It's quite pleasant, if a bit disconcertinly middle class. I'll be moving on to Husker Du (umlauts. now. bitches) shortly, no chance of them being underrated. Mainly on account of Bob Mould being a football headed corporate bottom feeder. Yes, he feeds on bottoms. It's fuelled by his anger at the fact that Grant Hart did Bob Mould singing better than Bob, and wrote better songs (apart from Bob's manic wailing on Eight Miles High, that's awesome that is. Even if it's by a spherical money grabber).

But I digress.

Kingmaker. Clinging to the fading Kingmaker moment, here's a slice to tickle your sacculus with.

Yes, I'm too good for you and yes, I suspect my choices are determined by my ongoing lament.

GET OUT.

Conundrum

2008-11-28T15:48:00.000-08:00

No, not the kind that Carol Whoreface Vorderman would do inbetween flogging debt and margerine-based phantom cholesterol cures to poor people in adverts. Do I do a post about the awesomeness of Grant Hart (erstwhile drummer from Husker Du [apply your own umlauts, fuckers], heroin addict and top-drawer musicker), or do I do a sPazTune?

Poor Grant has less than a thousand listeners on Last.fm. I find this utterly criminal, as I secretly passed a law making not registering your love for Grant Hart on Last.fm a crime. It also makes me sad, as he's a talent that your ears crave, cleave to and generally want to have ear sex with.

Well? Hurry up, cementdudes, it's already gone midnight. Oh, you can't suggest until I've posted, can you. By which time, I will doubtless have decided, and the whole matter will be redundant. Oh well, much as I hate to disappoint my readership (hi millie, if you're still reading. If you are, why? Go and have your head felt), I shall plough on regardless and you will doubtless see the fruits of my ploughing in the next post. I somehow doubt it will be a crop of turnips. Crock of shit, maybe, crop of turnips, less likely.

Alternatively I could do something about the persistent box-based irritant that is safety matches, or wibble on about Kingmaker.

Oh, decisions, decisions.

Johnny Brainstorm!

2008-11-21T13:47:00.000-08:00

That would either be brilliant, or the worst cartoon ever. On the one hand, it could be a massively hazy and drug-fuelled superish hero romp through the galactiverse, on the other it could just be a half an hour of someone called John sat a table thinking really, really hard about something. Either way, it's a line from my favourite Mad Sin song, second best purveyors of fine German psychobilly.

So anyway, yeah. I'm not inventing a new cartoon superdrughero (again, that could be ace, or just someone preventing a robbery in an inferior Boots rip-off shop), I'm just burbling about things sloshing about my head. In type form. The burbling, that is, things aren't sloshing about my head in type form. Oh no, they slosh in lurid, sleazy, all-too-graphic detail. No matter what I'm thinking about. Thinking about red leicester cheese? Lurid, sleazy, all-too-graphic detail. It's both a blessing and curse. And a load of old tossy waffle, too.

To business, though. I reckon it's time for a sPazTune. Yes, you heard me right, a sPazTune. Not a sPazAmp, a sPazTune. Why? I heard you shout in an incredulous fashion (utilising my special set of internet enabled ears, ears that can even detect made-up sounds. Yes, I have used that line before. Sue me, bitch). Well, I'll tell you. See, my car, little Adolf the Audi A3 (1.8t sport, if you must know) is a little elderly. S reg elderly, to be precise. And, like all similarly elderly audis, he suffered from a very specific ailment. Namely, the stereo volume control. See, in their infinite teutonic ~~desire to enslave europe~~ wisdom, they decided that it should have an electronic volume control, one that would necessitate writing all changes to memory, to make sure the little car stereo knew how loud your ears liked your music. Nothing wrong with that, you might think. Except they wrote it to an eeprom chip permanently. Permanently. Giving you a finite number of volume changes - about 10,000 or so, to be inexact. At some point in the past year, Adolf reached his 10,000 and could only remember three volumes - average, TOTAL, and really tiny. Average was slightly too loud for sitting in your car outside your house, way too quit for the motorway and/or drowning out the unwelcome whining of car guests. So I replaced it, as a treat for Adolf on my birthday.

All well and good you might be saying (you probably aren't, because you aren't reading), but what on earth does that have to do with the price of sPazAmps? Well, see, I thought I'd be technoclever. I bought one that went with the old iPod (well, not that old, that was also a self-present, replacing the giantist original one with the vastly decrepit battery. I lent the interim replacement, a splendid little Sony thing, to a man going to Iraq). And I couldn't be fussed with sPazAmping with an iPod, so I bit the horrible Apple bullet and reinstalled sPazTunes.

So there you go. The reversion to sPazTunes. Except I took so long about this (I was distracted by facebook and things. I'm so cool. No, you can't touch me. Get off) that you don't get an actual sPazTune. I listened to lots of psychobilly, trawl back through previous efforts and compile your own. There's enough of them in there. Christ, do I have to spoonfeed you EVERYTHING, cementheads?

BEGONE.

Bim Jeam

2008-11-08T15:01:00.000-08:00

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you...the one word sPazAmp. Guaranteed longer titles than comments, all of the time. Fun, meet your redefinition. Tedious Irritation, put Fun's coat on and do your best impersonation.

1. Mark Lanegan - I'll Take Care of You
Whiskygruffgravelsex.

2. Roxy Music - Both Ends Burning
Pyroarse.

3. Robbie Williams - Life Thru a Lens
Cockfarmer.

4. Cliff Richard - Congratulations (in Spanielish)
Bumwipe.

5. The Move - Useless Information
Bostin!

6. Bryan Ferry - Piece of My Heart
Ventricle.

7. Air - Talisman
+4Str

8. Kingmaker - End of the Line
*sniff*

9. Daniel Johnston - Love is Like a Toy
Vibrofilth.

10. Hayden Thompson - Blues, Blues, Blues
Blues.

Okay so this is about as much fun as listening to the Stephen Nolan phone-in show for Angry Retards on Radio 5. Which is, in turn, about as much fun renovating your rectum with a pencil. In light of this, the second half will be a regular sPazAmp - no increase in fun for you, a two percent swing to fun for me.

11. Los Gatos Locos - Someone's Gonna Get Their Head Kicked in Tonight
Brazilian. And awesome. A bit like everybody's favourite retard-faced midfielder, the wonderful, and wonderfully gormless, Anderson.

12. Bobby "Boris" Pickett & the Cryptkickers - Monster Mash
Especially nice with Ghoulash. Sorry. Really, really sorry.

13. Blyan Felly - Tokyo Joe
Lacist.

14. Roxy Music - Serenade
Look, it's a genuine coincidence. Honest, it is. Stop it.

15. Pearl Jam - Who Are You
I'm David. Hi.

16. Soft Machine - Why am I so Short?
Because you've only got little legs, E.T.

17. Bill Allen - Please Give Me Something (to Remember you by)
How does herpes grab you?

18. Isaac Hayes - By the Time I get to Phoenix
They'll have moved it. You can practically guarantee it.

19. Psychic TV - Just Like Arcadia
Only without the former members of Duran Duran, I suspect.

20. Twilight Singers - Number Nine
It has Mark Lanegan's whiskygruffgravelsex voice noises, and then it has Greg Dulli's soulfulseedysex voice noises. It has all the sensibilities of a classically epic Dulli tune, with a seasoned dash of Laneganisms. It may lack the brutal confessionalism of "Be Sweet", and Greg may have mellowed (well, more sort of marinaded) from the urgency of "Miles iz Ded". If you need more from music than Greg letting rip at the three minute mark, then to be quite frank you don't deserve to have your own ears, you spack.

GOODBYE.

The Greatest Song in the History of the World #1

2008-11-07T13:19:00.000-08:00

Today, that song is the one this post is about. Yesterday, it was something else. Tomorrow it will be something else. Hell, it might even be something else by the end of this post. That, my little cementheaded readers, is the infuriating beauty of music. If The Greatest Song in the History of the World was always the same song, it would be really, really dull. Duller than a barrel of cheese on a broken treadmill, in a dark room. At night. Duller than making a scale lego model of a piece of lego. Duller than the combined wits of Ashton Kutcher and Josh Hartnett. Duller even than the unnecessary bits of the Lord of the Ring trilogy (cinematic version) - and that is a whole heap of fucking dull.

But enough of the dull, onto the sparkly, shiny, seductive, engorging goodness. Today, at approaching ten in the evening, The Greatest Song in the History of the World is...

Yes, that's right. It's "Serenade" by Roxy Music and yes, it really is that good. A tiny aural slice of munificent magnificence, put on this earth to tickle your ears in a good way and occasionally make bits of your insides to try and swap places with other bits of your insides. A reasonable indicator of a contender for a temporary seat at the head of the Greatest Songs in the History of the World table is when a single listen just isn't enough. And at 2m59s, "Serenade" is one of the reasons why they invented digital music and a repeat button (they tried it with record players, but you could never be sure that the needle wouldn't slip the wrong way and end up trying to burrow to China through your slipmat).

It's one of the sneakily best kind of songs - the secretly sad song. Full to the brim of pop jauntiness, striding along Bryan's typically oblique lyrical path, you can happily trot along with it, enjoying Thommo's enthusiasm at being let of his drum leash and letting go with the occasional energetic fill, or ol' Phil's reliably strident strumming. And, for two minutes or so, this works - Bryan's archetypally individual vocal stylings (no, it isn't technically singing. At least, not as we know it. But hell, it works, so stop arguing cementhead) carry the lyrics along with a certain, seductive bravado - after all, it's a song about Bryan casually slinking off from one passionate encounter to another, isn't it. He's not bothered, he's just slying pondering whether she will be or not - although really, it doesn't matter whether she does or not. Life's too short, dude. Then, at about two minutes, the jauntiness eases, Bryan's piano driving the guitar into a melancholy-tinged moment - like the song had just caught sight of it's own reflection and felt unnerved for a second or two.

The bravado slips ever so slightly, turning on the lines "maybe I'm wrong for seeming ungrateful, unforgiving/oh how it hurts, now you're finally leaving/I couldn't take any more".

The jauntiness resumes almost immediately, but it's just not the same. It's punctured, coloured with a tiny glimpse of emotion. Not bravado anymore, it's almost clingy desperation. Posturing, but needy. Almost touching, especially in "now's the time, let's hide away/sacred hours, safe from yesterday" - it may well be a plea for one more shag, but the song's let its guard down, you know it means it. This is just driven home by the incongruity of the "boo hoo willows", rather than alleviated. It's certainly no accident that it's followed on side 2 of Stranded by "A Song for Europe". It all turns on the near-falsetto of the two minute mark and the word "finally". As derided as Mr. Ferry can be (not always without good and laudable cause, it has to be said), his genuine deftness with words and their evocation of emotion is criminally underrated to such a degree that they should open a special court in The Hague. Some songs spend tedious hours clumsily yanking on your heart-strings like a ham-fisted shot-putter trying to knit vermicelli, "Serenade" flits in, takes a scalpel to them, and flits out again.

Of course, you're free to disagree with me. But that would, of course, mean you were an idiot. Just rejoice in the new category and it's splendid new tag. And the song, rejoice in the song. But be careful, it won't always make you happy. Depends on how you feel, innit.

BYE.

You Gotta Categorize

2008-10-09T16:13:00.000-07:00

'strue, y'know. Something to do with the Credit Crunch - so important that I've given it capitals. Not entirely sure what it is - either a tasty new cereal or a complete fabrication caused by people like Robert Sodding Peston (to give him his full name), fuelled by speculation, ill-informed media-type-hype and retarded middle-class Daily Mail readers obsessed with the relative price of their houses. In that sense, it's much like economics and capitalism in general (in the made up sense, rather than the crunchy cereal way - although if Weetabix have rebranded as Oatso-Discontinued-Line-of-Credit since I last looked, then I apologise). Like a simpleton running about a 747 shouting BOMB! BOMB! TERROR BOMB! SHOES! BOMB! only featuring all of your money and all of Iceland's money. You've no personal, attestable evidence of the SHOES! BOMBS! or TERRORS! but it's a fair bet you'll start acting like you do.

Quite where I'm going with this, I don't know. It could get worse - the mere mention of Robert "Self Aggrandising Menace to the Markets" Peston has got me all angried up about Nicky Campbell. And the idiots that populate Radio 5 Live in general. Bloody idiots.

Anyway, yes. There'll be a couple of new categories along soon. How soon, it's too soon to say, but soon. They'll be lovely, I guarantee it. I also guarantee you'll hate them/ignore them (delete as applicable), which is, after all, why I do this.

BYE.

Comments!

2008-10-09T09:53:00.000-07:00

Comments, yeah! That's my enthusiastic way of informing you (yes, you. The nebulous you that I am entirely uncertain exists in any corporeal or measurable form. Sort of a person version of the concept of Russell Howard's alleged "talent") that I've actually responded to all the comments that had been left. Even the one I completely didn't understand (you know who you are, Flower Travellin' Band Fan). Leave more. Go on. Please? Look, I'm paying attention now, I wasn't before. I'll actually read them within about a week of being left, not the six months it was previously. Look, don't make me beg. Again.

Returning to Russell Howard. Do I mean Russell Howard? Russell someone at any rate, and I know I don't mean Brand, Grant or Harty (who are, incidentally one of the oldest law firms in New Zealand). Tell you what, I'll describe him, and then we'll see which Russell I mean.

The boz-eyed, gimp-faced horse-tickler of a comedian. The one who isn't a comedian at all, on account of him being a bazillion times more irritating than he is funny. The one who pops up on panel shows, the one who doesn't fit in, the one who seems like the fucking irritating younger brother of your mate - the really spoilt one who always had to be allowed follow his brother around and join in, despite being FUCKING IRRITATING, because if he wasn't allowed he'd tell his mam and ruin everything (including the glue-sniffing), the one that was constantly trying to show off and being embarrassing, the one desperate for approval and acceptance, but going about it all wrong and MASSIVELY PISSING YOU OFF in the process.

The one who looks like he'd be better suited to presenting Blue Peter. Blue Peter in HELL.

Is that Russell Howard?

I'm listening to Metallica. And enjoying it. Sorry. Still, at least it's off Ride the Lightning (it's "Creeping Death" if you're interested), so it has guaranteed ginger riffs. I mean RIFFZ. Sorry again.

Title!

2008-10-03T14:22:00.000-07:00

So yeah, I stayed up and that. Watched the debate between Joe Budden and Michael Palin. Christ those two have changed a bit. Palin is a blithering flid, and Ol' Joe did really quite well, making almost no spectacular blunders of any kind. Palin refused to answer any questions, thinking that asserting "I may not be able to answer all the questions as you may expect" allows her to ignore the questions and blather slogans from a crib sheet for 90 seconds at a time. My favourite bit was Biden laying the Maverick Smacketh Down on her after she'd said "maverick" in connection with John "Freakishly Tiny Hands" McCain about 30 times. In summary, it's over to Ollie the Weatherdude:

1. Inspiral Carpets - Bitches Brew
Not fixed at all, I promise. She's a mother, you know. Her in depth policy outlines consist of yelping "I DONE A CHILD! I SPEAKED A HOCKEY!" over and over and over again. And making travelogue television series, of course. The Inspirals don't approve and entirely fail to cover Miles Davis in the process.

2. Muse - Exo Politics
Take the "o" out of the title, and you have the effect rendered on the US presidential election by Sarah Palin. There is no such person as Senator O'Biden, Palin. Muse make a muse-like sound. It's a fine line between having a distinctive sound, and all the songs sounding the bloody same you know, Matt.

3. The (St. Thomas) Pepper Smelter - Words of Pain
Oh the sweet, Peruvian garage irony. I will twist each and every song to meet my thematic ends. She does seem to finds words painful. Well, not so much the words, more the putting them into any semblance of a coherent, pertinent order. Joe did not "preference" his statement with the Bush Administration, Palin. He possibly prefaced it, but I doubt he has any Bushwards preferences. Apart from in the rude sense, of course. He looks a bit of a sly old fox, tbh/f.

4. Tony Christie - Avenues and Alleyways
Theme tune to The Protectors, dontcha know. Struggling a bit with this one, so I'll just content myself with warbling along, instead. She'd probably invade Spain if McCain took his tiny hands to the clumsy war veterans agency in the sky whilst president. They don't trust Spain. Damn Paellofascists.

5. The Cramps - You Got Good Taste (Live)
Here's hoping. You can't normally slip a gnat's chuff between American political candidates (if that's the sort of thing that turns you on, insectological chuffvert), but surely you American types can't actually vote for McCain with her on the ticket. He's old, tiny-handed and prone to carking it over the course of the four years. She'd then be in charge. She believes in the rapture - what the giddy christ would keep her finger off the button (not that button - I reckon her god frowns a bit of secret fapping).

6. Duran Duran - Come Undone
Glossing over the really quite odd selections being made by sPazAmp (although I'll not hear a word said about the Duran. Mainly because I have the world's oddest, and most specific, deafness), you'd think the Katie Couric interviews would have done this to her. But no, thick people can be so politically tribal that she's actually solidifying the core 35-40% or so, as they sit there blithely asserting that she was focused, concise and to the point in her "answers". Just so long as she carries on digusting the remainder of the world, that'll do for me.

7. The Lost Souls - Witch Hunt
It so isn't, Lost Souls. Although that's what you'd get if you were pregant after being raped by your own parent, if Palin had her way. What does she care? Jesus is flying down to collect her in his spaceship at some point!

8. The Temptations - My Girl
This is me raising an eyebrow. In type.

9. Sweet - Wig Wam Bam
Sex in a tent!

10. Furniture - Brilliant Mind
Even Furniture are taking the piss. In the past. With a mighty fucking fine song.

11. John Zorn - A Shot in the Dark
It's how they picked her. FACTUS MAXIMUS.

12. Cheater Slicks - Child of the Moon
Well, I doubt she's human.

13. Melvins - Spineless (feat. Skeleton Key)
No, just brainless.

14. Bir Yagmur Masili - Nasil ne Zaman
It's it Turklish. I don't know what it means. It's nice, though. Six minutes long, too, timefans.

15. Moaners - Chasing the Moon
Bit of a fruitless exercise I would have thought. Sadly, it's an instrumental, so we aren't privy to their views on the matter.

16. Redman - How to Roll a Blunt
Unfortunately it isn't about James Blunt, and it doesn't have "in a carpet and beat him senseless" in brackets after the title.

17. Gas Huffer - Mistake
Poor Tom Price :(

18. Pink Floyd - Lost for Words
Sadly, she wasn't . Lost for sense and direct answers, yes. Words, no. Doggone it.

19. Mad Sin - Ich Kann Nich' Schlafen
Neither can Ich. Ich think.

20. Del Raney's Umbrellas - Can Your Hossie do the Dog?
No, but she can govern Alaska and run for vice-president.

ARF.

BYE.

Sarah Palin: I SO read newspapers, dude

2008-10-02T17:17:00.000-07:00

She reads all of them, you know. Everything in front of her. She's an expert on Heat magazine, and her knowledge of the Radio Times is unrivalled. It's a VP Debate commemorative sPazAmp, a desperate attempt to fill the time between now and 2am when I get to sit and wait for which of the vice-presidential-calamaties-in-waiting fucks up first (did Roosevelt really go on television straight after the Wall St. crash Joe, did he? in 1929, before television and before he was in power? DID HE?). Knowing me, I'll fanny about massively and only get to about #8 or so before it starts (I'm a little bored of typing this already tbf/h be fair/honest. If I cared, it'd be a miracle.

1. Demented are Go - Rubber Buccaneer
Something to do with dildonics, I think. But not cyber-dildonics (I didn't make that up, someone said it on telly once. I suspect it may have been Channel 5). It's very good (the song, not Channel 5. Or cyber-dildonics, although I wouldn't presume to cast myself as an expert on the matter). Growly psychobilly greatness, possibly about dildonics. What could go wrong?

2. Elton Motello - He's a Rebel
Bit shit, if I'm honest. Should probably have stuck with just owning Jet Boy, Jet Girl, rather than the album. Oh well. Standard, punk-tinged pop that would have threated nobody had it troubled the charts in the late 70s.

3. Pulp - Joyriders (Acoustic)
Better than the regular version. Popped up as a b-side to one of the two Common People CD singles (not that CD singles have a literal b-side, you know full well what I mean). Reminds me of the mid-nineties (fairly predictably), not a time I like to dwell on. Still pretty genius, mind (the song, not the mid-nineties).

4. Carlos Casal Jr. - Don't Meet Mr. Frankenstein
Okay. Must admit, had no plans to anyway. Also, can you go away and come back again at the end of the month, you jaunty fifties popfrightfest. Ta.

5. Curtis Mayfield - We the People Who are Darker Than Blue
Hello, mauve people. At this rate, I won't even make #8 before the debate.

6. Erasure - Love to Hate You
One of my three favourite Erasure songs. A non-existent prize to anyone naming the other two. Motivation? I got it seeping from every pore.

7. Roy "The Orb" Orbison - Pretty Paper
It's not even Christmas, you fool. As majestic as The Orb was, it's not a patch on the Reverend Horton Heat version, which is the version I'll be listening to when it actually IS Christmas. Also, sad song, bad sPazAmp. We're not to have sad songs anymore.

8. Jeff Buckley - Lover, You Should've Come Over
Yeah, and you shouldn't have gone swimming in your boots, you selfish tool. Also, what bit of "no sad songs" don't you understand sPazAmp?

9. Mark Ronson (ft. Daniel Merriweather) - Stop Me
Better than the original. Stick that in your cardigans and moon over it, Moz lovers.

10. Public Enemy - Mi Uzi Weighs a Ton
Does it, Chuck? Does it really? A ton you say? A gun weighing a whole actual ton? Bet you don't have a gun at all, never mind a ludicrously weighty one. Go home and just think about what you've done, mister. You've let me down, you've let the school down, you've let yourself down, you've let the gun-weighing-association down. Tsk.

11. Guana Batz - Saving Grace
Can't type. Misty eyed.

12. The Bees - These are the Ghosts
Thanks, Bees. Although if I'd wanted the guided tour, I'd have arranged it with Yvette and Derek.

13. Simple Sarah vs. Joe the Flid
Sorry, ran out time.

Like, BYE.

sPazAmp 8 Frillion; Take 2

2008-09-26T15:20:00.000-07:00

After yesterday's boost to the sales of prozac, I thought I'd have another stab (not in the knifecriming way). It'll be much better, I promise. But only to the extent that Death Magnetic didn't suck as hard or as disgustingly as St. Anger. Look at me with my Metallica analogies. Anyone would think I particularly liked them or something. For the record, I don't and Lars Ulrich is a twunt who increasingly resembles Phil Collins in brain, body and (lack of) soul. Also, Mr. Hetfield - that is no way for a 45 year old bloke to act. Nob.

1. Wampas - Wampas
Splendid churning French Rockapsychobilly that sounds like a French, billy version of something off Bedtime for Democracy by the Dead Kennedys. Possibly Dear Abby. Or Triumph of the Swill. Fascinating stuff, I'm sure you'll agree.

2. Iron Maiden - Iron Maiden
Second song out and already the software is swinging its balls about the place, strutting and preening for hitting on a s/t theme. This is the sort of behaviour I expected from poncey old sPazTunes (software for people who are scared by software, designed to run on computers for people who think that the colour of the computer is the most important bit. Bunch of fannies), I expected better from you, you little llama-themed piece of orange musicality. Put them away, they're disgusting. Oh, it's the Live after Death version. You'll have to imagine the majestic Dickinson Rock Pointing. Whilst you're about it, place one of Steve Harris' feet on a mental monitor and try your hardest to be wearing a Wet Spam FC football shirt. It'll enhance the experience, trust me. TRUST ME.

3. Faith No More - The Real Thing
Nice segueway, sPazAmp. I still don't want to see your balls, though. I told you to put them away. They're not big, and you're not clever. I think it would have been only fair had The Real Thing recorded a cod-soul song called Faith No More. I initially typed that as Fatih No More and completely changed the theme from slightly off-kilter and thoroughly spunksome rock to a campaign to off the former manager of the Turkish national football team. Unfortunate.

4. Mantronix - Bassline
Slight shift there, Mr. Amp (of the sPaz variety). More electro than hip hop (or even rip rap, as me mum called it the other day, bless), with tinny, squawky "rapping" from MC Tee, former sailor and the only person to ever lose to Rodney O in a rap battle (in my head). Still, if you tune out the LL Cool J-with-rickets vocals, it's still all good. Well, not ALL good. I mean poverty and stuff is still bad. Song is far longer than it has any right to be, if you ask me. Which, theoretically, you did by reading this. Goon.

5. Sin Alley - Money
Storming psycho-inflected rockabilly thunder? Check. Balls out, full on interpretation of a song that widdles all over the original? Check. Reasonably hot lady belting out the words? Check. Unfortunately, it lets itself down with the fact that she sings as if she is trying to make sounds by forcing her adenoids out of the top of her head. Stupid moo.

6. Elton Motello - Sha La La La Lee
A thoroughly unthreatening and largely faithful rendition of the Small Faces original. Punk my arse (that isn't an instruction. Especially not if you happen to be Ashton Fucking Kutcher. Incidentally, I watched him try to act once. It upset me).

7. Mansun - Six
It's a Mansun song. But not one of the good ones. So it sounds quite a lot like all the others, only not as good as the handful of good ones. In summary: not very good, with showers drifting in from the east.

8. Screaming Trees - Transfiguration
From the time in their career where they sounded like Beatles-inflected underground sixties US garage pop (the Beatles-inflected is a bit redundant there, that's what they all sounded like. Better than the Beatles, obviously, and all of them, even the retarded ones, had a better drummer. Fuck off, Ringo, you're shit). Which means it is before the time when Mark Lanegan obtained a voice like liquid, singing sex - the kind of liquid, singing sex that smokes forty a day and gargles with Bulleit bourbon. So before the drugs, basically.

9. The Cynics - I Don't Need You
Averagely fun revivalist garage dudes. Not their best, but still ten miles better than the Mansun effort (and, thankfully, about a quarter of the length. Who told Mansun they could make eight minute long songs? Certainly wasn't me).

10. Jethro Tull - Too Old To Rock'n'Roll, Too Young To Die
I'm neither. I'm thirty-six.

11. Nick Cave & The Sad Sheeps - The Moon is in the Gutter
It's not Nick. That's your arse. Pull yourself together, man. Vaguely Roxy-esque, circa For Your Pleasure, with added Tom Waits aping. Very good, mind - three gazillion times better than he's been for about a decade (Abbatoir Blues excepted). You can fuck off with your Grinderman, it was shit. FACT. END OF. SIMPLE AS. Oh yes.

12. Divine Comedy - Becoming More Like Alfie
The pinnacle of Neil's career. Splendid, mellifluous, tunesome without question. And also slapbang in the middle of my car-a-oke singing range, which is lucky for them. Why couldn't he make more songs (or even albums) like this one? The twat.

13. Sailor - Girls, Girls, Girls
It's no "Glass of Champagne", but it'll do. Thanks, Sailor. Thailor.

14. Furniture - The Sound of the Bell
One of the finest songs ever fashioned into a form acceptable to the human ear, and a clear indication of just how often Pulp listened to Furniture and just why they should probably pay them some royalties for a number of songs. Honestly, it's a musical item of grandeur from start to finish. Belle & Sebastian should probably pay them, too. But then, they're massive musical ~~light fingered tea-leaves~~ magpies and even stooped to stealing a Cliff Pilchard tune. Plus I shall never forgive them ripping off Billy Awesome Ocean. The twats.

15. Andy Williams - Spooky
Not as good as the Lesbotic Panda's version, but still a quality slice of lounge. Andy even manages to sound a little sleazy (and disturbingly like Georgie Fame at times). For some reason, the Lesbotic Panda version reminds me strongly of sad times spent in a draughty Crumpsall flat with someone who deserved better. Something to do with the Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels soundtrack, I think. Hmmmn.

16. Muse - Plug-in Baby
Ah, when Muse used to be good. And shamelessly steal royalty-free classical music. I wish Muse were still this good, I love a good wildly over-the-top, massively melodramatic rock beast, I do.

17. Servotron - Rocketdog
If it turns out to be Servotron by Rocketdog, I don't care. It's pleasant garagey punky stuff, with a hint of B52s. And a bit of random electro. And it's from an Estrus benefit album for when their warehouse burnt down, which makes it essential buying (well, not now - it's deleted and they get practically no benefit from you buying it on ebay. For practically read entirely).

18. The Novas - The Crusher
I knew someone who used to sing this in the shower. TBF be fair, it is a fine shower-singing song. Aw.

19. ODB - Baby C'mon
RIP in peace, ODB dirty bastard. A curious kind of possibly retarded genius, with a unique flow without equal or compare. A nutter, but one of the good ones.

20. McCain/Obama debate
I had to turn the musics off, soz. I've got a tenner on a McCain coronary. Here's hoping!

BYE!

Yeah!

2008-09-25T13:50:00.000-07:00

Or possibly no! It all depends on your point of view, really. Gird your loins (or possibly lions, if your a bestial welderer. Come on, keep up with the self-referential navel-gazing tugfest masquerading as a running joke), splice your mainbrace, get naked and get your sPazAmp on! All new (well, the songs probably won't be), all singing (apart from the instrumentals), all dancing (mainly me. In my chair. Like a big spacker), ALRIGHT!

Ahem.

1. Pink Floyd - Fat Old Sun
A nice, gentle, fuzzy start. One of the two John Peel versions, the shorter, not as good version. In fact, the third best version I have. Update your charts, do NOT drink your weak lemon drink.

2. Marble Sheep - Fla Fla Heaven
Has this been on before? I suspect it has. Long, slightly mentally-uncertain Japanese poprockadelia. Hugely inoffensive, distinctly endearing, sort of like mid-period Flaming Lips (if they had a bit of a clue) crossed with Captain Sensible-era Damned, seasoned with a dash of Wedding Present (c. Bizarro), and sounding nothing like the description whatsoever. You'd likely as not hate it, but then, you're stupid and your ears are nowhere near as well developed as mine. Suck on that, biotch.

3. Billy Joel - Piano Man
I AM THE PIANO MAN . Joke for two people, one being me and the other being someone who won't be reading this. Damn you Richard. WE DIDN'T START THE FIRE. Oops, sorry.

4. Pulp - Common People (peel session)
TELL HER ABOUT IT. It's Common People, by Pulp. On a Peel Session. I'm reasonably sure you can work out what that sounds like. It's not like you're totally retarded.

5. Mojo Nixon & Skid Roper - Debbie Gibson is Pregnant with my Two-Headed Lovechild
The title says it all. I feel any comment from me at this point would be entirely superfluous. OCTIN TEAR .

6. Los Manganzoides - Lluvia de Fuzztones
No idea what they're on about, don't speak spanielish. I reckon, but I might be wrong, that it's something to do with The Fuzztones. What with the word Fuzztones being in the title, and with them sounding a bit like them, in an Argentina-y way. No, I know - my insight really does know no bounds.

7. The Smiths - Hand in Glove
The heartwarming tale of mitten-based fisting. With added pointless, and irritating, harmonica.

8. Morita Doji - I Become a Lonely Wind Without You
Proof, if proof be need be , that you don't need to understand the lyrics for a song to make you want to do a cry. A tough, rugged mancry, of course. But a big slice of sad, all the same. Smothered with lashings of extra thick, double strength Upsetting Custard. What a shit overstretched analogy.

9. The Who - Glittering Girl
Proof, if proof be need be , that the lyrics don't need to make any sense or carry any sense of pertinence to make you want to do a cry. Not having the best run of sPazAmp luck, really.

10. Soundgarden - Into the Void
It's, like, Soundgarden, impersonating Slack Babbath. Probably because it's a Slack Babbath song and the tiny grunge-elf Cornell is doing his darnedest to sound like Ozzy. So there you go.

11. Chris Cornell - Fell on Black Days (live in Sweden)
Didn't take long for sPazAmp to get all cocky and start theming, did it. Not great, not horrible. It's the Heinz Tomato Soup of music.

12. Offspring - Why Don't You Get a Job
Well, why don't you stop outing the stuff I really like that makes everyone laugh at me, sPazAmp. Plus, I SO have a job. It's shit and annoys me.

13. The Singing Loins - So Long, My Old China
Oh fucking thank fucking you, sPazfuckingAmp. Yes, it's a fucking splendid fucking song, but really, on fucking top of everything fucking else, it's fucking not fucking one I want to be fucking hearing at this time of fucking year. Sorry for the swears, came over all Gordon Ramsay there (not in a rude way, urgh). Fucking.

14. R.E.M - Everybody Hurts
Oh for fuck's sale sPazAmp, you're just taking the piss now. It's not even as if I've even vaguely had a hint of liking this since about 1992 (and even then the Elvis theftery was testicle-ticklingly obvious). It's like, sung by Michael Stipe, and blablabla . Still making me do a sad, mind.

15. Edgar Broughton Band - Mr. Cosby
Probably not about Bill, sadly. Still ace though, despite the presence of fucking bongo(e)s.

16. Smog - I Was a Stranger
I seem to have acquired a sPazAmp channelling the spirit of a sPazAmp normally reserved for South Wales teenagers with a passion for emo, facebook groups and suicice. Although with different songs, natch. If I didn't know better (and I rarely do), I'd swear it was trying to do me in. Dastardly technology.

17. Roxy Music - 2HB
My favourite song about pencils. Just about one of my favourite songs ever, tbh be honest. When I have space, time and inclination, I shall have to while away hours listening to the vinyl, just like I did as an angsty, moody teen - one who thought a parting and a massive Ferry-like flick was a good idea. Personally, looking back, I don't think it was. I didn't notice at the time though, so it's all good. Except it isn't, because I was an angsty moody teen. A vicious circle of the most pointless and vacuous kind. Corking song, though.

18. Magnetic Fields - Book of Love
Look, sPazAmp, keep this up and I'll be going back to sPazTunes. I'll even buy an iPod to really rub it in. Cheer me up, for the love of grud, drokk it.

19. Husker Du - Eight Miles High
Insert your own umlauts. In your anus. This is little cheerier, sPazAmp. You well know just how inexplicably sad I find this song, you massive tool of a piece of software. Still, any excuse for a massive nihilistic scream, so I guess I'll forgive you.

20. Scissor Sisters - Return to Oz
The double whammy of outing a musical joy derided by others and persisting with depressing me. You really are heading for a life in the recycle bin, sPazAmp. Still, reminds me of two of the best gigs I've been to (no kidding), both of which have a tiny sadness attached all of their own. Oh, the boundless, untrammelled joy.

That wasn't nearly as much fun as it used to be. Like the worst comeback album ever. Hint: when your sPazAmps make St. Anger look good, give up.

This, that, but not the other.

2008-09-20T12:07:00.001-07:00

I bet you thought I was dead. Yes, you - the mythical reader of this nonsensical voyage through nonsense. Well, I in't. So relax, you're not being typed at by a zomboid. I live, just about, much to the chagrin of many.

Also, I'm back. Here and on the musicky version of my witterings. I'm going to set myself a plan, a plan to inflict myself on the interwebworld on a far more regular basis, with a mutantbrain spurt on a thursday and a mutantrock musing on a tuesday. Knowing me, this plan will last less than a week (that only leaves me a Monday to abandon myself to the pointlessness of Spore and Wednesday to pursue a PhD. It keeps running away, the little sod).

So yeah. Suck on that, bitches. It'll be great, you'll love it. My return is the reason they had to shut down the Large Hardon Collider temporarily. Electrical fault my arse (that's not an instruction), they're just diverting all their science brain energies to deciphering this blog, the only proof they'll ever need of the existence of the Higgs Moron particle.

To celebrate, here are some Youtubes. I've chosen these from whatever Firefox suggests to me from previous browsals when I start typing youtu into the address bar. Proper random.

Shit. This was suggested as "funny" somewhere on the interwebulars. It's not. Not even the cat, the Baldwin or the Vader. Shit, with a capital wank. Which sounds like something an appreciative toff might say to a prostitute.

She's a generalist. Not a specialist, a generalist. She's also an ugly, talent vacuum with the face a horse's mother wouldn't love and a skank factor to rival Amy Whorehouse's arsecrack. Holistic vocal coach is apparently special code for deranged bint with the personal appeal of a rampaging (higgs) Bison intent on goring you with the new horns it glued on especially for the job. I love the X-factor. Until it stops showing the mouth-breathing musical bacteria and starts pretending the people are talented. Then I hate it. This is why I prefer Britain's Got Talent, they don't bother with the second bit. They let slightly "special" girls with performing dogs into the final (best bit was when he parents explained how she doesn't have many "human friends"). I like to pretend that they intend the title in an ironic fashion.

I've run out of youtubes, so in lieu of another, here's a premium comment from the youtube posting of the last one. I adore youtube comments, they seem to be inhabited by people who, by rights, should be mentally incapable of operating a computer. Or breathing unaided.

i must admit shes a bit of an ego maniac and her big desplay at the beginin did discredit her quite a lot, however she is very talented and should be credited for heer vocal ability and the fact she has taught the vocalist of one of the best bands in wales how to sing just because she uses sum techniques that arent widely loved doesnt mean she should be discredited for it and catagorised with all the shit singers because of it

Thanks, serpentofmendes! Can spell technique, can't spell her, display, or some. I bet you only feel truly alive when paintballing. I bet you also think that Neighbours is a reality show and that Digimon is a documentary. Bless.

In the words of Gary Glitter, ~~I'm off to trawl the far east for children to mither~~ it's good to be back. Hello, hello, it's good to be back.

The pie done gone.

2008-02-23T15:18:00.000-08:00

I etted it.

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A quickfire (i.e. only ten. Which isn't quickfire at all. It's just shorter) Roxy Music shuffle, including the two Bry(i)an's solo output, but sadly lacking Phil Manzanera's, 801, the Explorers or Andy Mackay (they're all still on vinyl. Which is a particular shame with regards to Andy Mackay, as it denies the chance of a saxophone based instrumental version of Ride of the Valkyries).

Enjoy it, or else. The shuffle is still at risk of getting it. IN THE SHUFFLE HEAD.

1. In Every Dream Home a Heartache
A pleasing start. Perverted nonsense about blow-up dolls and posh houses with posh taps. Nice brooding start, big Manzanera freakout at the end. Five and half minutes of nonsensical, perverted perfection. With taps!

Watch Bryan Ferry sweat and pretend to play a guitar. Witness Paul Thompson's visible delight when he finally gets to hit something properly with his drumsticks. See Brian Eno grind pepper. He's dressed as a peacock!

2. Brian Eno - Here Come the Warm Jets
Oi, you. Yes, you. Blokey out of Flaming Lips. Brian wants his tune back. And David Essex wants his early eighties head back.

3. Bryan Ferry - These Foolish Things
Admirable display of impartiality by the sPazAmp. Bryan indulging himself to splendid effect. Should be rubbish, is actually great.

See Bryan flick ash at a tiny ashtray woman.

4. Roxy Music - 2HB
The song about the acting pencil from the 40s. Still sounds slightly like music from the future. And from space. And the past. Retro space future music about pencils. It's the way forward. And back. One of my favourite songs ever.

5. Roxy Music - All I Want is You
Full-on pop tastiness mode, this time. Effortlessly cool, gloriously good fun.

See Paul Thompson try and drum his way into Mao's Communist Party. Watch Bryan Ferry try and sneak into the Gestapo. Witness Andy Mackay's audition for Showaddywaddy.

6. Bryan Ferry - What Goes On
Bryan lets me down, lets himself down, and lets the school down. He does a good job, maybe even improves the song, but he can't change the fact that it's a completely arse song by complete cocksocket [/reed heresy].

See Bryan grow a (really good) beard because Antony Price told him to. Watch him hobble up and down stairs. Worry about Bryan's congenital stoop. Marvel at his entire lack of ability to dance like a human. Wonder how he still manages to be cool.

7. Brian Eno - Dead Finks Don't Talk
Two Eno, both from Here Come the Warm Jets. Good work, sPazAmp. Have a biscuit.

8. Bryan Ferry - It's My Party
Imagine your favourite version of the song. Then multiply it by a frillion, and that's how good this is (n.b. this process doesn't work if this is already your favourite version).

Apropos of whimsy, random eighties samurai and the fact that a tiny ten year old shoelace had a massive, inexplicable crush on Barbara, here's Dave Stewart and Barbara Gaskin's version.

9. Bryan Ferry - Is Your Love Strong Enough
Yes thanks, Bryan, and I'll thank you to stop testing it out. From the film Legend which, IMDB has just told me, featured Tom Cruise. Thankfully he isn't in the video and my forgetfulness is allowed given that the 14 year old shoelace had other cast members to have a massive, inexplicable crush on. Yes, it was Tim Curry. Only kidding, it was Mia Sara. Well, to be entirely honest, I think it was Princess Lily I had the crush on, I don't recall being bothered about her in other films (Ferris Bueller, for instance).

Continue to marvel at what Bryan thinks passes for dancing on Earth. Say hello to a brief appearance by Dave Gilmour (the guitar sound is obvious, even if he isn't). See Bryan walk spastically up supposedly invisible stairs that you can clearly see. Ask yourself the question "WHAT THE FUCK ARE THOSE SLEEVES ALL ABOUT?" (please note that given I was 14, I know full well what those sleeves were all about and I can only apologise).

10. Roxy Music - Would You Believe?
I would. Splendid retro future past space honky tonk thing with awesome drumming. Thanks Paul Thompson.

Here's Bryan Ferry comparing beards with Kenny Everett.

Yeah, happy new year and that. BYE.

The pie is nearly here!

2008-02-23T14:03:00.000-08:00

Scant minutes away now! Rejoice, nutrition fans! Yet another shuffle, including an opening use of a Lionel Richie "joke" that I used as the intro to that there post just before, having forgotten that I'd used it in a shuffle. Silly me. PIE!

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Hello! Hello? Is there anybody out there? Is it me you're looking for? Shove off, you strange amalgam of Pink Floyd and Lionel Richie. Especially Lionel, stop taunting blind women in your videos.

Having gone Tom Jones crazy for most of the day, I feel it prudent to indulge in some shuffling before my closest Last FM neighbour is a sixty year old knicker-flinging woman. I'm quite aware that some people would pay good money for that sort of thing. But hey, I'm not some people. No. I'm just one. Obv.

1. Gogol Bordello - Start Wearing Purple
The version from Voi-la Intruder. It's a bit different from the other one, but still ace. They're pretty ace full stop. Such a shame that most of the acclaim ladled onto their heads from some quarters is for all the wrong reasons. Makes me want to invent a crazy gypsy cossack dance. Again.

No youtube. It'd only be perved over.

2. The Calico Wall - I'm a Living Sickness
You so aren't, Mr. Calico Wall. Unless you are actually, counter to the sleeve note indications, a germ rather than a person. Reasonably entertaining sixties garage that shoehorns in all the requisite elements, arranges them in a pleasing manner and thus ticks most of the required boxes. Not as good as "Flight Reaction", but still quite good if slightly forgettable. Meh.

No youtube. It doesn't exist and I can't think of a humorous and/or good alternative.

3. Screaming Trees - Halo of Ashes
A tiny bit eastern, a tiny bit too earnest, and a tiny bit not as good as it should be. Screaming Trees at their trying too hardest. I feel I should like it more, but I don't. Oh well. Hmph.

No youtube just because. All these comments probably seem a bit weird as I only decided on the youtube thing later when I found the ace one for Church of Misery (you'll see. If you dare).

4. The Stingrays - Joe Strummer's Wallet
Look, I've told you all about this before. I'm not going to waste my time telling you again how brain-fondlingly marvelous it is, I'm just going to sit here and thoroughly enjoy it instead.

To balance the indirect Strummer bashing, here's the one and only Clash song I truly fucking adore (live!).

5. The Revels - Foo Man Choo
A doo-wop oddity that is odd along the very obvious lines delineated in the title. Huh.

Unsurprisingly, The Revels (the band, not the chocolate) don't make it onto youtube, so here's Tom Jones dancing up a storm of leathery sex. Again.

6. Funkadelic - (Not Just) Knee Deep
Known to most people as The One That De La Soul Used On Me Myself and I. Not me. I know it as it is and prefer it in this form. Because I'm so cool, see. And I gots the funk. By the kfmotherfuckingc bargain bucketload. And I also heart Tom Jones. I AM THE ULTIMATE PERSON.

It's fifteen minutes long, doubt you want to sit through a youtube that length, so here they are in 1970 being genius on a show called "Upbeat"

7. Edgar Broughton Band - House of Turnabout
Edgar in the wistful prog mode (rather than the more rock incarnation). Bloody marvelous and if you don't like it then you're a scrotum.

Apologies for the nature of the youtube (flid makes video of stills of the band over the tune), but it's worth it for the song (the closest in spirit to the actual EBB song with actually being it).

8. Los Monstruos
Sounds like Spinal Tap as the Thamesmen (or whatever it was) with "Gimme Some Money". You know what I want, or maybe you don't. This is probably because it has the same tune. This is in foreign. Thought you might like to know that. Ah, the legend that was John "Stumpy" Pepys.

9. Dexy's Midnight Runners - Come on Eileen
I will NOT, bloody filthmongers. What a massively sexy and appealing song this is. Forget the drunkenly co-ordinated mass foot stamping it instigates towards the end of the reception for every family wedding ever. Strip away the herds of drunken morons abusing it. Focus on how unapologetically perfect a pop song it is instead. Wearing dungarees with nothing underneath was a stupid idea, this song clearly wasn't. As the video proves.

10. Church of Misery - El Topo
As most of their frankly STAGGERINGLY wonderful tunes are named after serial killers, I can only surmise that this is about the word-famous serial-killing singing puppet-mouse from Italy. Rocks like a beast, grinds like a bitch, and does lots of other things like things beginning with the letter B. All of them good. It is awesome, magnificent and totally tickles my balls. You'd hate it, mind, as you have heads of cement and entirely fail to acknowledge the massive majesty of the behemothic sabbath-on-steroids semi-Japanese masters of music. Or something. Whatever it is, you're wrong. HA.

Here's their promo for "Filth Bitch Boogie (Aileen Wuornos)". It has BORIS connections, dontcha know. I can think of nearly four people on here whose lives would be willingly enhanced by having Church of Misery in them (the lives that is, not the person).

11. Rainbow - All Night Long
A very particular kind of musical perfection. Graham Bonnet reaches his own personal talentastic zenith (just edging out "Since You've Been Gone"), Cozy does his drum thing and stays within the bounds of sense, Ritchie rocks just enough, the rest are just there. In that order. Has a video featuring a large breasted slapper jiggling away whilst Graham leches at her from behind his mammoth shades whilst singing. Contains the lines "you're sort of young / but you're all the rage / I don't care cause I like your style / don't know about your brain/but you look alright". HALLELUJAH. Here's the video. Hnggh.

You love it, you do.

12. Tony Christie - Avenues and Alleyways
I can only click my fingers with my left hand. Weird that, isn't it? I always find out during this song as it is proper finger-clickable. I heart this song massively, and have done ever since I was a tiny shoelace apparently (so my Mum says).

I was going to commemorate this with a clip of Tony riding the turd-ridden coattails of the Amarillo-based fame on "Saturday Swings", presented by Natasha "pointless" Kaplinsky. But it physically hurt. So instead, here is Tony reprising his German TV efforts on "I Did What I Did For Maria". Watch out for the VERY special dance move he busts between 40 and 44 seconds. It's mind bogglingly. The charisma-free bellend really did think he was Tom Jones, whereas in reality he was more the dancing version of Joey Deacon (google it, youngsters). The merits of the curiously Peter Kay-a-like paid to sit in the background and look vaguely cowboy-ish have been covered elsewhere.

*sadly, the youtube has been removed, so you will be forever denied the mystical wonder of Tony's christawful dancing. Soz*

Here he is doing Avenues and Alleyways in a gloriously lurid shirt and trousers combo. It's part of him doing a really bizarre big medley in the same clothes. SEVEN MINUTES OF THE TONE! Bonanza! Includes advice on not going down to Reno, shooting people on behalf of Maria, directions to Amarillo, terrible miming, even worse dancing, a camp German presenter, a gold disc presentation in forens

13. DJ Yoda - Betty Boo/Doin' the Do
It features both Betty Boo and Europe's "Final Countdown" in about a minute and a half. It's almost too much excitement for the human mind to take. It certainly is if you were a certain age at the time of the originals, ahem. To commemorate, here are both in youtube form.

The worst that eighties style videos (and cod-rapping) can offer:

The worst hair that metal could provide, and the worst metal that hair could provide:

EMBRACE THE CHEESE.

14. Humanoid - Stakker Humanoid
Immense electronic quality. Utterly, utterly peerless. All bleepy, beepy songs should be this good. But, alas, they aren't. FOR SHAME, ELECTRONIC PEOPLE. It seems to be one of the very few instances where I'm stuck in the past with what was a contemporary (to me) tune. Sorry. It's best heard in a club with it playing so loud that it feels like it is physically squeezing your head. It may also help to have taken drugs, I think.

Youtube. Sorry a) for the tiny, tiny volume. TURN IT UP and b) if you're an epileptic. Be careful. If you weren't before, you might be afterwards.

15. GLC - Half Man Half Machine
Sheer unadulterated qualitude. That isn't even a word! It is really good though. Don't believe me? Well ~~then you must be stupid, and I know I've done this selfsame strikethrough "joke" before~~ see for yourself. Binatone, spectrum, pacman, Commodore...sadly, there are no youtubes of Mystikal doing his patented Radio 2 announcer rapping (as witnessed on "The Alchemist").

16. Wu-Tang Clan - Gravel Pit
One of THE finest hip hop songs, and an excuse to post just about the finest hip hop videos. Especially the visual representation of ODB being in chokey. Classic (and I don't use that term lightly).

17. Kylie Minogue - Some Kind of Bliss
That's me and Jona happy, then. And probably JamieC and the Snork, given the Manics association.

Obligatory youtube, random petrol station guff.

18. Inspiral Carpets - Two Worlds Collide
One of my very favourite late-period Inspiral goodnesses, and a very easy one to youtube, given Mute's helpful hand in uploading all of the offical promos. God bless 'em.

19. Gas Huffer - Crooked Bird
Not their best, but in the top five. And easily their best video. Which makes it far better than most things you can feed to your ears. Poor Tom Price :(

20. Afghan Whigs - Miles iz Ded
Not the best quality recording of a decent version of one of the best songs in the world, ever. Typical television-at-a-festival camerawork, but you still get Greg Dulli looking oddly hot and the drummer has all of his clothes on (by no means a given with him), so it's all good when you think about it. Cashback!

Fun! Fun? Fun. Maybe. I don't know why I bother. I expect signs of appreciation, or the shuffle gets it. IN THE HEAD.

Bye!

Hurry up, pie and chips!

2008-02-23T13:55:00.000-08:00

I'm hungry! Stupid time, standing between me and my dinner. Oh well, just time for another shuffle, then.

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I must admit, shufflefandudes, that I'm a little loath to step back in here. But hey, I'm bored and a bit sick of youtubing weirdoes, so here goes.

Well, in a bit. It turns out that I'm not entirely sick of youtubing and besides, the Snork claims not to have seen Morecambe and Wise. And then no doubt there will be an insistence on some wrestling clips or something. It's bound to happen. Bear with me. Perhaps a joke to fill the interlude.

How do you stop a dog shagging your leg? Pick it up, and suck its cock.

I thank you. Thanks, Sean Lock.

Now, on with the shuffling.

1. The Mummies - Tall Cool One
Simultaneously an auspicious and an unauspicious start. Auspicious (I'm already sick of typing that) because it's a fucking belting song (I think it's one of their Wailers' covers, but I might be wrong), unauspicious because The Mummies always appear, and it makes it look like my musical taste hasn't moved on at all since the last time. It hasn't, but I don't need some retarded music software broadcasting it to the motherblubbing world. Hmph.

2. The Littlest Hobo Theme
Maybe tomorrow, I'll wanna settle down, until tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on. Excellent theme tune, dudes, but settle down? You're a fucking dog. A dog. What're you going to do, get a job as a data analyst, get married and raise half alsatian half human hybrid children? Fuck off you massive mental.

3. Pearl Jam - Gremmie Out of Control
It's something to do with surfing. I do like me a slice of the 'jam (I would suspect that you shouldn't actually be able to slice jam), but they don't really cover themselves in glory here. Although, that said, I do love it to bits. Me? I'm a mass of contradictions. Although some might say it was more a case of being wilfully confusing. This section was sponsored by the word although. Thankyou. Bye.

4. Nick Cave & the Bad Sheeps - Deanna
Just about my favouritest 'Sheeps song. Unfortunately, this is a live version recorded in an empty coke can. And is therefore tinnily shit. I massively heart the song, though.

5. The Adventures of Parsley - Magpie
It's theme tune night in the shoelace household. Well, theme tunes and youtubes of Billy Ocean being magnificent and Tom Jones being hnngworthy. Ah, Magpie. Presented by every young boy's dream Jenny whatserface and Mick "Keegan" Robertson. Sort of like an cheap ITV attempt to be Blue peter, only with a rocktastic theme tune. A theme tune that Parsley, erstwhile ivory-tinkler for the Solarflares does more than a massive amount of justice. Splendid.

6. Jello Biafra & the Melvins - The Lighter Side of Global Terrorism
Given the two musical behemoths involved, do you really need me telling you at length how fucking awesome it some, cementheads?

7. Los Gatos Salvajes - La Respuesta
It's all in forens. Doesn't stop it being groovetastically awesome, mind.

8. Inspiral Carpets - She Comes in the Fall
I love the Inspirals. I don't mind admitting it. A fine song. Lyrics not their strong point, though. You should learn to walk before you crawl, she comes in the fall? Fucking retards.

9. Guana Batz - Electraglide in Blue
Fuck yeah. If I weren't going to go on and plug my blog, that would suffice. A prime slice of asskicking psychobilly, by the tuneful masters of the art. But I am going to plug the blog, and it is precisely the sort of thing that can be found over at Mutant Rock

10. Gas Huffer - Release the Robots
This is also the kind of thing you'd find over there. Tom Price has Parkinsons. The world is unfair in so many fucking unfair bastard ways. That's just one of them. Best bit is the robotic, Spectrum 48 curragh uspeech (the micro thing, no the u, I couldn't be arsed finding the alt+numbers for it) right at the end. The world is a shit, horrible place.

11. Randall and Hopkirk (deceased) Theme Tune
It really is bastard theme tune night. Plus I appear to have tourette's, sorry. Not the best them, a bit plinky piano heavy. And the Vic and Bob remake was shit, which is a shame. Although Emilia Fox was in it. But that's not enough to save it, I'm afraid.

12. Deep Purple - Fireball
Winamp tells me it's 22 minutes long. If fucking only. Stupid software. Top shrieking, Ian. I was about to launch into something about Lee and Herring's Ian news (very "ian-teresting"), but it's getting late and I can't arsed. Soz.

13. Steve and the Jerks - Girl You Made a Jerk out of Me
And why are you so bothered? It's your band name! Top garaging, though.

14. The Deadly Snakes - I Heard a Voice
I heard one too. I recall distinctly, it said "NEXT". I heart The Deadly Snakes as much as the next man (providing the next man is a massive fan of The Deadly Snakes), but this is a bit poor. Soz.

15. Minous Blancs - Oh Non Jamais
It's all in the forens! But regardless, it's fantasticly bopsome. Hell yeah.

16. Belle and Sebastian - Me and the Major
I've left this in for three reasons. One, I don't cheat (much. I mean, obviously I elide multiple instances of the same band), two, it's not a terrible song and, three - mainly this one - they mention Roxy Music. TBH be honest, at the time I first heard, that was probably what sold it to me. I heart Roxy Music massively. But then, being tiny shoelace fans, you probably already know that. *blush*

17. Outkast - The Rooster
The best song on the Speakerboxx/Love Below split thing, and it wasn't on Andre's lameass effort. Oh fucking no. See, They can both rap, but only Big Boi has a fucking clue with regards to the beat. Sorry again for the tourette's. But really, this widdles all over anything on the other side. Except maybe "Hey Ya", but then that's just a pop thing. Not that being a pop thing is a bad thing, but being a big rap beast takes a certain something. The Rooster has it, in fucking spades (sorry again), and Hey Ya don't.

18. Ricky Martin - Loaded
Faster than a Sosa home run. Bet that's faster than any of you - you're probably still deluding your minds with weird thoughts of him being shit. Well I got news for you, fools. Unless you have a personal reason not to do the jiggy mamma to the break of dawn, then you have no excuse AT ALL. Cementheads. (I must admit, I cheated and listened to a bit of "La Bomba" live afterwards, and had a massive latino chairdance. I am SO fucking sexy it's untrue. I did a bit of Pegate but had to stop on account of people throwing themselves at me).

19. Anthony and the Johnsons - Divine
Yeah, way to ruin the mood, JamieC. Okay, so I like your song massively. But not after I've had a frankly enormous chairdance to Rickyness. Stop it. You're making me glum. Plus, I'd quite like it if you stopped squeezing my organs.

20. The Dubliners - The Irish Rover
I should have been typing about Julie Driscoll's "Let the Sunshine (the Flesh Failures)" - a fine song of which I know all the the words. However, we drunkenly danced the song away in the confines of the room and were thus left with this (the Les Dawson youtubes notwithstanding). Are we bothered? Arse no! It may not be prime time Dubliners, but hell, it's still arse-shiftingly wonderful, despite the involvement of Shane MacGowan.

There would actually be a 21, seeing as how much the room enjoyed the randomising of Green Day. But I've been told not to mention that, so that would be BYE.

BYE.

Bye.

Next Shuffle Please. Thankyou.

2008-02-23T13:45:00.000-08:00

The momentous 50th shuffle. Undertaken shortly after declaring that I couldn't be arsed at the end of the last one. I LIED.

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Turns out I could be arsed. Rather than continue the Psychobilly sPazOut! (tm), I thought I'd do another, completely and utterly and totally random one. Absolutely unbiased, with neither fear nor favour. So here it is. The fabled sleeveless sPazAmp of yore.

1. Jethro Tull - Quizz Kid
A fine opening. Can't spell "quiz", but hey, that's the crazy genius of The Tull for you. Despite loving and listening to this since about 1983, I'm not entirely sure what it's about. Hopefully not The Eggheads, because they're all twats. I could easily beat them on my own. No, really. I've been banned from upwards of one pub quiz for winning it too much. I'd particularly like to slap the one who patently wears far too much mascara, the massive nob. Like all the best Tull openers (for this was, after all, something of a concept album, like most of them), it contains a curious mix of hope, melancholy and ROCK FLUTE. It also has a slight overture-like snippet of the big near-end song. Which points to it's conceptness, but does little to explain it. The later ones do, clearly, but the opener just waffles on and on (in a musically wonderful way) about being good at quizzes. Bizarre.

2. Jethro Tull - Crazed Institution
Presumably where you end up if you obsess over pub quizzes. Not the most random of selections, being as it is the second track on Too Old to Rock'n'Roll, Too Young to Die! (the previous entry being, as stated at a belaboured length, the opening track). Really not sure how such an unrandom occurrence occurred. I shall have to investigate. Keeps the album chugging along, fitting seamlessly and tunefully into the whole, without genuinely standing out as a solo listen (despite the fine flutage). A bit like The Temple from JCS in that respect.

3. Jethro Tull - Salamander
Honestly, this is getting ridiculous. The third Jethro Tull song in a row? And, what is more, the third Jethro Tull song from Too Old to Rock'n'Roll, Too Young to Die! in a row - and in ORDER? Clearly not the most random of events, sPazAmp. People will be casting nasturtiums at me at this rate. Much in the manner of the previous song, it features a welter of excellent flutage and mood extending, with little actual development or stand alone songness. Although the fluting is TOP FUCKING NOTCH, I can tell you. As, indeed, I just did!

4. Jethro Tull - Taxi Grab
Involves having a very big hand and a mighty strong grip. I'm gathering by this point that a) it's about the impendingly middle-aged protagonist's unfulfilling night out and b) it's not random at all, I've chosen to shuffle the entirety of Too Old to Rock'n'Roll, Too Young to Die!, in a non-shuffled, non-random manner because it so fucking wonderful and gigantically, catastrophically underrated. Even by Tull fans. Which is quite some going, as they tend to worship the smallest of Ian Anderson's parps. They even like The Crest of a Knave, and that's actually been proved to be less musically enjoyable than the smallest of Ian Anderson's parps.

5. Jethro Tull - From a Deadbeat to an Old Greaser
It's a bit of a weird album. Not in a bad way, there isn't a bad note on it. It's just that it does the whole concept album thing by general tone of song. Most concept albums beat you over the head with it through lyrics and the like. Even previous Tull epics did that. All you need with this is the album title, the album on vinyl (so you have to turn it over half way through, the pause is important) and a pair of ears. After that you get the point, repeatedly, all the way through, and end up wanting to have a bit of a little mancry. Especially if you're nearly 36. This song in particular is a bit lovely. Hugely lovely, and sad, to be honest. If it wasn't for the fact they released the nearly as wonderful Songs From the Wood and Heavy Horses afterwards, it would have been a poignantly apposite album in their own career. Or, to look at it more positively, I'm good for a revival of two more metaphorical album's worth before I end up a parody of myself, whoring myself around venues filled with a steadily decreasing supply of hardcore obsessives. I'm quite aware of that metaphor dying a disturbing death about a third of the way through, ta.

6. Jethro Tull - Bad-Eyed and Loveless
About a squinting brass. Possibly. Sort of bluesy in between song. Which is a nice way of saying filler, because it's nice.

7. Jethro Tull - Big Dipper
Starting to sort of reprise the opening, only in a more downbeat fashion. Except it's not downbeat. Hard to explain (especially at two in the morning) - it's more a subtle shift, a slight inversion of the hope and melancholy, with a retention of the awesome ROCK FLUTE. As part of the second side, it forms part of the momentum. You're waiting for something more, something with a bigger point, a more potent edge, and the song leaves you in no doubt that's it is on it's way. That sounds twatty, and it very possibly is. Do I care? Do I billy bollocks, cementheads.

8. Jethro Tull - Too Old to Rock'n'Roll, Too Young to Die!
If this isn't one of the best songs in rockdom, and one third of the greatest closing three songs of any album ever, then I'll eat my hat. And I don't eat hats, as a) they aren't food and b) I'm a committed vestitarian. I recently reimmersed myself in this, and found myself wondering if it's massive appeal was down to a non-literal reflection of me staring the 36-45 age bracket square in the face. Then I remembered I loved it just as much, and in just the same way when I was 14. And 18. And 26. It's just bloody right. It's just my luck that it's now an actual for me, rather than an appreciated abstract. Oh well, I still look good in a vest. Uplifting, sad, fantastic, melancholy, undercracker splittlingly awesome, and ultimately very soddingly right. One might quibble about the lack of ROCK FLUTE but really, the song is so arse-shreddingly awesome, you just don't need it. And that's quite the claim. Note: I do not plan to end it all on the A1 by Scotch Corner. My mid-life crisis is not yet so advanced.

9. Jethro Tull - Pied Piper
Can't really be listened to on it's own, has to be right after "Too Old to Rock'n'Roll, Too Young to Die!" Another one where the lyrics really don't matter. It just works for the album - TOTRAR,TYTD! has a big, final, climactic feel to it - Ray's probably smashed his Harley into an eighteen wheeler on the foolishly small A1 by Scotch Corner and it's all over. Thus, this acts the part played by all softer songs that follow big finishes on fine albums (think Bar Italia on Different Class, cementheads). It's the gentle, slightly ethereal come down. The soothing song, easing you out of the album, wittering about pied pipers and mad bikers. But The Tull are too good for your conventions, dude. You get the third part, both climactic movement closer and ear-soothing exit. That's why you should all worship the Fucking Tull. That, and the massive ROCK FLUTE.

10. Jethro Tull - The Chequered Flag (Dead or Alive)
A quarter of a century, and I still can't make up my mind. Can't decide what the album advocates. Maybe you should end it all. Or maybe it's only a metaphorical end, and you realise that you're just different afterwards - not the same, but no worse and no better. More attention to the lyrics might solve that - I doubt it, but they might - however I wouldn't want to ruin the glorious ambiguity the title and the feel of the song provide. Maybe you should leave in one last blaze of glory, maybe you should survive the attempt, maybe it'll all be alright regardless, you just don't know. The Tull certainly didn't, and different views would give different answers regarding their career. The only downside is how music ignores their attempt to work out what the question was, even if they didn't know the answer.

If you had half a brain, you'd be off down the flea market, searching for albums with a yellow/black combination cover under "J". But, likely as not, you don't. It's your loss, cementheads, and you'll regret not taking my advice when you find yourself staring at a form and having to tick an age-bracket that slightly perturbs you. When that day comes, then spare me a thought. I'll likely as not be in a nursing home, smelling faintly of cabbage.

Bye, young'uns!

*Edit* Firstly, I think I neglected to point out how wonderful "Chequered Flag (Dead or Alive)" is on it's own, regardless of it's place in the album. All by itself, it's enough to induce a tiny mancry. As part of the closing triumvirate, well, it's a certainty every time (even if they are invisible, internal mancries). Wonderfully orchestrated, soaring wonder, in Tull form. Secondly, that is my fiftieth shuffle. I'd like to be able to mark the combination of a significant milestone and a diminishing urge to continue by swearing that I'd do no more, but I'm fairly sure that the fun of sPazAmping will have me back just as soon as I have bourbon and enough spare time. But still, I felt the occasion warranted me noticing, and I'm more than suitably proud of the resultant shuffle. Now shoo.

Hello? Is it me you're looking for?

2008-02-23T13:13:00.000-08:00

No Lionel, it isn't. I'm blind you heartless bastard, after this little display I sort of regret making a giant clay model of your head.

More sPazAmpular japes ahoy!

---

A Psychobilly sPazOut! (tm). Warning, may contain traces of garage. And nuts.

1. King Kurt - Gather Your Limbs
One of the better efforts from the bequiffed purveyors of novelty twatdom. Not THE best, that's something else. But still, less annoying than some of them, and more catchily pleasing than most. Not sure why he thinks I've strewn my limbs all about the place. Here they are, poncing about on a stage nearly 25 years ago.

Warning: May contain traces of quiffs.

2. Screaming Lord Sutch - Jack the Ripper
Lonely mentalist parliamentary wannabe, RIP in peace. Always much better sticking to the music (but not on stage, he was shit on stage). Here's a film made for it with a budget of approximately tuppence ha'penny.

Warning: May contain traces of the fact that it's the original sixties version, whereas I was listening to his superior 1982 cover of his own song. It has far superior hornage.

3. The Reverend Horton Heat - Love Whip
She said baby what's around your waist, it was my love whip. Just next to my enormously lengthy cock. Some of this may not be part of the lyrics. Saucy. No youtube for this, the nearest it offered was a clip of some fat losers performing a version in what appeared to be shed.

Caution: May contain traces of an absent youtube due to fat loser issues.

4. Link Wray - Fatback
Everyone's favourite one-lunged part-shawnee guitar-innovatory motherblubber. Cast-iron bastard genius. RIP in peace, also. Again, the youtube is absent. Couldn't be bothered.

Caution: May contain traces of not being anything to do with The Fatback Band. Fortunately.

5. The Highliners - Henry the Wasp
A pleasant, cheery, if a little one paced semi-novelty almostbilly diversion. Not their best, mainly because it stretches itself over far too many minutes. Nearly four. I'm not really sure there are nearly four minutes to said about being stung by a wasp called Henry. Not sure? Judge for yourself with an awesomely cheap and practically inaudible video involving a tiny model wasp with a quiff.

Caution: May contain traces of lurid and possibly inadvertently camp purple shorts and/or DMs.

6. Demented are Go - Surf Ride to Oblivion
Splendid gravelly voiced most psycho of billy, partly from Cardiff. No youtube of the song, best I could do is a frankly awesome (if you're a nerdy RPG player) video of someone with the Oblivion construction set and far too much time on their hands. Well worth watching (if you're a nerd. Like me).

Caution: May contain latent traces of Roy Castle and/or Record Breakers.

7. Gene Vincent & the Bluecaps - Who Slapped John?
Wasn't me chief, I barely touched him. Wasn't nowhere near him, honest squire. Ah, the musical genius of sweet Gene Vincent. Bloody marvelous. Do yourself a favour - listen to this song and watch the youtube of Ian Dury singing about him (also cocking brilliant) and I can guarantee you will be four percent less cementheaded by the end of it.

Caution: May contain traces of pointy sideburns.

8. Batmobile - Ballroom Blitz
Everybody's favourite Dutch Psychobilly band named after a superhero's car. FACT. Here's t'Sweet performing their original.

Caution: May contain traces of rough scottish blokes dressed as women.

9. The Meteors - Attack of the Zorchmen
Hot bastard damn! I could elaborate, but really, it would be patronising. Even for the cementheads. Watch, marvel and learn. Also, thank the stars that it involves Nigel "Lurch" Lewis singing, thus sparing you P. Paul Fenech's chubby little hamster face.

Caution: May contain traces of unnecessary torso-based stage nudity.

10. Screaming Jay Hawkins - Frenzy
If love gushes from my heart, like water from a spout. Gushes? Are you sure you mean "heart", Jalacy? Saucy. Another one for the RIP in peace. Honestly, the lengths some folk will go to in order to avoid the CSA. Although, to be fair, it was for about 75 kids in his case. A bona fide cast iron guaranteed massive and incontrovertible legendary musical genius. Plus his original of "I Put a Spell on You" pisses on Nina Manvoice Simone's from space. Watch him entertain the crowd and remain in fine, jealousy inducing voice well into his sixth decade.

Caution: May contain traces of extremely inexpert camera work.

So there you go, cementheads. I cannot be arsed doing anymore, that's your lot.

BYE. Imho.

HNGGH!

2008-02-16T13:22:00.000-08:00

See, the main reason why I didn't reproduce the OGP themed shuffle was the amount of pictures and youtubes it featured. But then, the next one along is the Tom Jones themed sPazAmp. And, to be frank, that would be nothing without the pictures. So I'll give it a go. It might take me a while. And I doubt you will consider it worth the effort. But then, that's your own damn fault. It's you that has to live with your sorry self bitch, not me. Ha! Owned in the hypothetical virtualness!

---

Feast your eyes. Drink him in. Absorb the wonder. Be disturbed (mainly by the dead, cold eyes of a killer). Slowly moisten. It's finally time. Time for the Tom Jones Redemption Memorial sPazAmp. HNNGH!

1. If Loving You is Wrong (I Don't Want to be Right)

Is it really so wrong? I mean so, yeah, right, so I have these kids. And a wife. And they, like, depend on me. STOP JUDGING ME. Yes, Tom, it is wrong, you lustful, adulterous bison of a man.

It's just any old man that can carry off the speedo/massive cross poolside look, y'know.

2. This and That
What's that Tom? You tried to do a little bit of big time "moving"? Did you start work for Pickfords, then? It's hard not to be nearly overwhelmed with pangs of empathy when he says he's had too much of this and that, and this and that is no good. I'll let you into a little secret, shall I? Yes, I shall. God appeared to me in a Father Antonio from Sunset Beach style of revelation, and declared this to be one of the five greatest songs ever recorded. FACTUS MAXIMUS.

HNGGH!

3. Kiss
WOAH! HNNGH! I don't care if you're a fat sweaty munter, just so long as you let me have a big welsh, leathery, orange go on your minge. That is, of course, Tom's interpretation. The original was more along the lines of SQUEAK! SHRIEK! I don't care if you're a fat sweaty munter, just so long as you let me have a tiny, purple, midgety go on your minge. Think I better dance now!

4. Never Tear us Apart (feat. Natalie Ibuprofen/Umbrella/Whatever)
She ruins this. She so totally ruins it. I'm not stoked about it, let me tell you. Not even slightly. When Tom kindly put on a concert in Cardiff to commemorate my birthday some years back, he did this by himself. It was, by one bystanding mathematician's reckoning, three thousand times better without the strange faced, bog-eyed, former hod-carrier for Jason Donovan's Dad blarbling all over it.

Here's Natalie in a promotional shot.

5. I'm Left, You're Right, She's Gone
The one tiny, lonely, shivering moment of musical worth in James Dean Bradfield's life. All those uneasy feelings you've had when listening to the Manics - y'know, that nagging sensation that somewhere underneath it all, behind the sub-radiohead (which is in itself sub-sixth form) lyrics, hidden by the random posturing, shitcake make-up and lumbering tuneage, there is a quite entertaining song or two struggling to be born - all point to this song.

Tom still shits all over him, of course. Not literally, mind. That's a privilege he reserves for his very special ladies.

Keep on drinking him in. Control your lust. Look at the colour. Think of the potential vitamin C. Admire the durability. DFS will have a field day with his hide, once he finally carks it (heaven forfend).

6. Motherless Child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child. Well, we all get peckish now and again, Tom. We just can't do it whilst looking cool in speedo trunks. A comely orange, libido of a muskrat, belt-buckles you could brain a burglar with, AND prone to sensitive introspection. A god amongst men? No. A god amongst gods. He could almost be a bowlie.

7. Chills and Fever
She gives you chills and fever? When she holds your hand and calls you her loving man? She's clearly riddled with diseases, Tom.

Oh, and another thing. In the Father Antonio/Sunset Beach/God type episode, he also told me that they should have kept this as the first single as it is miles better than "It's Not Unusual" (and has a smashing key change thing). FACTUS MAXIMUS TOTALUS.

8. Help Yourself
Love is like candy on a shelf. No, Tom, it isn't. TOM, STOP DOING THAT TO THE PEANUT BRITTLE. Disgusting. Yet also strangely arousing. Mmm, peanut brittle. HNGGH!

The Tom is eternal. I'll be really sad when he pegs it.

9. She's a Lady
I believe I have made my views on the lyrics of this song clear elsewhere (the song's ace, of course. It's Tom, how could it be otherwise). Never in the way, always something nice to say. I can leave her on her own, knowing she's okay alone, there's no messing. HELP ME BUILD A MOUNTAIN FROM A LITTLE POT OF CLAY. She knows what I'm about, she can take what I dish out. Good strong chin, that woman. Can really take a punch. SHE'S A LAYDEE! Doesn't get all up in me stuff when I'm out. Trustworthy, dependable, resilient. Doesn't complain. HNGGH! Really, Tom. You're better than that.

10. Delilah
Summary of lyrics. I was out stalking this woman, loitering outside her house at night. She was in. She was my woman (in my head). I might be a little bit mental. Why are you doing this to me, you scandalous whore? I could see that she was a whore, but I'm a bit mental, what's a guy to do. I waited until no one was around and knocked on. She said who the hell are you. I took offence, and stabbed her head in. As guilty as the McCanns.

Ah, with hips like that, who wouldn't forgive him? Woah!

Tom gets his beard on. Ladies (and men) get their damp on. hnggh. HNNGH!

11. Sexbomb

Thanks, but no thanks, Google Image Search (with the filter off). I prefer the Tom version.

So totally sex he can gargle microphones. Hnhh.

12. Daughter of Darkness
Woman. I can remember a woman. Warm were her kisses, and tender was she, lying there in my arms. After I stabbed her head in for being a deceitful mare. It's the Delilah business all over again. Point of (dis)Interest: Tom actually says something approaching HNNGH! in this song. Also, you have to love anyone who sings his own little backing bits. Daughter of darkness, stay out of my life (my life). No one good enough to trust with it, obviously. We bow down before you, orangey prince of durably tanned music.

13. Detroit City
Okay. Look, right, if I'm honest, no. It isn't as good as the Solomon Burke version that predates it. It certainly isn't as good as the Bobby "Blue" Bland original. But, just ask yourself this. How would they compare, crouching in naught but speedoes and a massive cross by a pool?

Much as I love you Solomon, the thought of you crouching in speedoes, or indeed anything, just made me do a sick in my mouth. Once more, the Tom wins.

14. Mama Told Me Not to Come
Mama also told me the Stereophonics were shite. She was right on both counts and, as much as I like this, it does nothing to redeem Kelly Jones or any of his music defiling friends. Poor Tom, having to suffer such trials. It's a good job he has a leathery, durable hide, having to carry tripe like the Stereomoronics. Give Liam his voice back, Kelly!

15. I (Who Have Nothing)
Another song I have made my feelings clear about elsewhere.I'll be lazy and let ctrl+v hasten the process along...

It took slightly longer than two and bit minutes (well, I felt compelled to listen to various other of his collaborations. And then waffle about them), but I listened to it. But, I'm not listening to it now. Oh no. OH NO. Now, I am listening to...

...The title is a bit of a giveaway, it's all about Tom. And, in this song, it's all about a Tom who stares at you through a window. You're eating, probably a meal, possibly with a foxy tycoon, and there's Tom, gurning at you through a window.

You're being swept off your feet, seduced by talk of the Riviera and Venice. You're very likely moistening. And then, oh, and then. You look up. There's a pair of starey eyes, a mop of unruly hair and an oversized circle of condensation, orange leathery Welshness splodged against the window pane. What do you do? ~~Of course, you tell the Maitre'D of the hobo by the window~~ You embrace the oddball, get married, have children and listen to the Magnetic Fields. It's Bowlie!

I'd still report him. But I fucking LOVE this song.

It's all true. God told me (earlier, with the other stuff he told me).

16. The Young New Mexican Puppeteer.
See, now, this song title always confuses me. Isn't it. Boyo (sorry, came over all Tom then. Not literally of course, that's a privilege he reserves for his very special ladies). I mean, what precisely does he mean? Is it a young, new puppeteer from Mexico, or is it a young, yet possibly experienced puppeteer from New Mexico? I have a similar problem with Super Furry Animals. Do they mean regularly furred animals that are, like, really good, or do they mean like, REALLY furry animals? ANSWER ME, DAMMIT. Either way, it's all a load of old baloney (apart from Tom's magisterial vocal stylings). Aw, let's all be good and like each other! A little lad's done a puppet show about that Jesus fella!

Bollocks, that's what I say. Not all the time, obviously. That would be quite the social hindrance.

17. Venus
Not as good as Shocking Blue (the song that is. Obviously, Tom bests them with the ease of a Big Brother contestant attempting to look like a retarded attention grabbing sea creature), better than Banananananananarama.

I won't deny that I may have got a little confused there.

18. What's New Pussycat
Tom. Tom. TOM. TOM. You do realise that the person you are describing sounds remarkably like an actual cat? I realise that you have the libido of a muskrat on viagra and are an uncontrollable bison of a man, but come on. You have to draw the line somewhere. Plus, I don't know if you've noticed - CATS DON'T REALLY HAVE ACTUAL FUCKING LIPS. Honestly, you're testing my patience.

19. Green, Green Grass of Home
Did you know this was about a prisoner on death row? Did you? I didn't. Not for years. Obviously, I found out when I was about twelve or so, but by then, it had been one of my favourite songs for about six years (that I can remember - apparently, I was a big fan of "Avenues and Alleyways" by Tony Christie and "Surrender" by Elvis before then). I was heartbroken. Poor Tom! Poor brave Tom! But then later, the realisation hits. He stabbed Delilah's head up. Of course they'd send him to the chair. It's no more than he'd deserve. No doubt he'd survive though, insulated by the durable orange leatheryness. HNNGH!

Tom's going to the moon, brb.

It might be a different Tom Jones. Oh Google Image Search, why you deceive me so?

20. It's Not Unusual
Okay, so I fixed it, I admit it. Well, it kept throwing up songs I'd already used. There is a limit to how many different Tom songs one guy can own, y'know. Look, it's hardly that strange, is it. It's not like it's completely out of the ordinary. It's not unusual.

HNNGH!

I'll have to go now, I feel somewhat weak.

Once more, with feeling...

HNNGH!

Phwoar. Bye.

Holy moly what the...JEFF!

2008-02-16T13:11:00.000-08:00

It's a satanic Most Haunted thing, you wouldn't understand. There is a missing sPazAmp, and this post is here by way of apology and, perhaps, explanation. See, it was all to commemorate the passing (in a football sense, he's not dead or anything) of Ole Gunnar Solskjaer - the man, the myth, the legend, the baby faced assassin, the pretty darn good United striker from Norway. It wasn't that funny, and had pretty much all the same songs on as all the other ones. But it was my little pointless way of commemorating the glorious playing career of one of our most faithful servants. Cheers OGP, you had a shuffle, and it isn't on here. Soz, chief. Back shortly with some further pointless ramblings.

Bye!

You are in a comfortable tunnel-like hall, YOU DROKKING LAWBREAKER

2008-02-15T14:23:00.000-08:00

Y/N?

---

The key's in the chest, you onion! Quick, or you'll be stuck in that stupid hall forever, becoming increasingly frustrated and trying to put Thorin in the chest for kicks!

You find yourself gripped by an urge to reveal the paucity of racy adventure and edge-of-the-seat thrillsomeness in your life by doing yet another sPazAmp on a Saturday night. What is more, you are gripped by this strange and debilitating urge whilst listening to "Coward of the County" by Kenny Rogers. What will you do? If you wish to sPazAmp with this as the first song, turn to page 803. If you wish to sPazAmp without including the nefariously bearded perverse musical pleasure, turn to page 2. If you wish to do neither, set fire to book. And then yourself. If you don't wish to do the things he done, if you wish to walk away from trouble if you can, if you don't think it's means you're weak if you turn the other cheek, please ring Kenny for advice and a hug.

Turn to page 2.

1. Wu-Tang Clan - Rules
You find yourself in a cave, unsurprisingly. By means of some rude grafitti on the cave wall, you discover the perils of turning the other cheek to Kenny Rogers. It sends a shiver through your carefully trimmed silvery beard. If you wish to rethink your actions and ring Kenny for some special beardy fun, turn to appendix XI. If you wish to fight a dragon to put all that time you spent cheating to get good STR and STA to good use (and yet ultimately be devoured, bringing the adventure to a premature and grisly end), then turn to page YOURESTUPID. If you wish to eat the dice, consult a psychiatrist. If you have already eaten the dice, consult a physician. If y'all know the rules, and don't fuck with fools, then turn to page 40oz. If you're bored of reading this page, turn to another page. If you think that the vast majority of possible "turn to page" jokes have been used in this, the first entry, then turn to page WHATDOYOUWANTAFUCKINGMEDAL EINSTEIN. If you wish to continue your daring adventure into sPazAmpLand, with stout heart and girded loins, turn to page 3. If you have accidentally girded some lions, then please contact Animal Hospital's Rolf Harris, and a welder.

Turn to page 3.

2. Devo - Girl U Want
Look, if you wanted to read things in sequentially numbered order, you should have bought a regular book you peanut. It's an adventure! Possibly taking place in Firetop Mountain, which is in no way a sign of Steve Jackson and Ian Livingstone stealing from J.R.R. Tolkein! Show some backbone, man! Try the path less trodden (not in the Kenny Rogers special beard fun way)! If you have grown a spine and a fine, bouncing pair of balls, turn to page eight gillion and listen to the next song whilst stabbing a chimaera, juggling flaming chainsaws and having illicit congress with a squid. If you have suddenly become a cementhead, then stop reading, denounce the quirky majesty of Devo, burn your computer, and start listening to th'Arctic t'Monkeys. If you are still a eunuch with jellified vertebrae, turn to page 4 and have some crumpets with Anne Diamond.

Turn to page eight gillion.

3. NoMeansNo - Phone Call
That's more like it. On both the musical and cojones-sprouting fronts. You are confronted by a bunch of tremendously wonderful Canadians, probably in a cave still, playing thunderously wonderful, slightly terrifying, marginally math-rock music at you. Roll against willpower. Fail, and you will be trapped listening to nothing else but their polar bear worrying, mountie-endorsed grandeur forever. Not necessarily a bad thing, but it will make for a slightly repetitive sPazAmpVenture. Survive, and turn to page NEXT.

Roll dice *3* Get in! Turn to page NEXT.

4. Cinerama - Your Charms
You turn to page next. You are somewhere else. Something else is happening. Choose between one thing and another thing. Get it wrong and something a bit bad might happen to you. Get it right, and something a bit less bad might happen to you, but it might ultimately lead to a more difficult choice of things and then death on spikes. The choice, as our Graham off of television's Blind Date says, is yours.

This book is a bit rubbish. I've seen more effort put in to editions of Woman's Own, and possibly Bella.

A large rock falls on your head. You pick up the rock and inspect it. It is carved with strange, eldritch runic symbols. Luckily, you can read strange eldritch runicese. You translate. It reads "watch it, you tart". If you wish to watch it, you tart, then turn to page watchityoutart. If you do not wish to watch it, you tart, then turn to page certaindeathbyspikesyoutart.

And just how are you doing that? You're meant to be a book. The responses can't be tailored to things I say in my head. Or out loud. Or on the internets. That's just stupid. You're stupid. Stupid, just stupid. Like the insurance costs in that advert.

You marvel at the strange coincidence of the entries in the fighting fantasy book The WarAmp of FireSpaz Mountain appearing as though they are direct responses to your own musings. You also toy with scrawling "I AM A MASSIVE HOMBO" on your own forehead in permanent marker. However, you think better of this ludicrous idea and decide to mend your ways and not question my bookly wisdom again. The pleasant strains of another of Gedge's paeans to adulterous fornication fade, leaving you with a choice. If you wish to pull the lever that I have hitherto failed to mention, turn to page -6. If you do not wish to pull the lever, don't. No skin off my nose, squire.

Turn to page -6.

5. Half Man Half Biscuit - Bad Review
You pull the lever. A bunch of ugly scousers sing at you. It is a not unpleasant experience. If you close your eyes, that is. And try desperately to block out the stench of roasting rat. Musically rejuvenated, yet slightly tainted by the miasma of the Kingdom of Scouse and possessed of a perturbing urge to hold a minute's silence, you gain +3 musical happiness and incur a -2 penalty to personal hygiene. You turn to page 35, whether you like it or not.

6. Chingon - Alacran y Pistolero
You fall into a massive pit filled with spikes, and rather understandably die. Only kidding! Have a French Fancy and a sit down. In front of you is one of them forens, singing in forens whilst wearing a massive sombrero. It's really quite lovely, even if you have great difficulty understanding what he is warbling about (you skipped Proper Forens to take extra strange, eldritch runicese lessons, you onion). The forens finishes his song and gives you a pair of quite awesome cowboy boots with a really ace pattern on them. It is fair to say that you are totally stoked. You gain a +10 MASSIVE SEXINESS bonus. If you wish to strut about the place, turn to page gimp and incur a massive slap about the chops penalty. If you wish to slink forward into the mountain with an air of inscrutable appeal and louche rum addiction, then have a drink on me, gorgeous. And turn to page 94.

Turn to page ~~gimp~~ 94.

7. Tom Jones - (I Ain't No) One Night Only Love Maker
Crossing outs or no crossing outs, I can only accept your first answer. And thus you have strutted to a room made entirely from tough, orange leather. You find, to your mild dismay (and hidden, secret pleasure), that you fit right in. You gain +5 to leather garments, chest hair and medallions, +800 to orange hue and skin thickness. Your belt buckle nearly causes you to fall over, such is its weight in pure gold, you are saved only by the +50 you have also gained to hip-power. You feel compelled to turn page 3, to ogle breasts and listen to My Life Story.

8. My Life Story - Strumpet
Your leathery orange glow fades, to be replaced by a faintly irritating voice, the occasional good tune and an overblown and misplaced sense of your own musicality. If, for the good of all musickind, you wish to end it now, turn to page painlessdeathbyinjection. If you can't bring yourself to do it because, when push comes to shove, you shove yourself in the direction of actually quite liking several of the songs, turn to page hangyourheadinshameyoutart.

Turn to page thingy, not the death one.

9. Chris Farlowe- Yesterday's Papers
You find yourself confronted by the world's pre-eminent collector of Nazi memorabilia and possessor of a fucking fine voice, asking you who wants yesterday's papers. If you wish to answer that you understand the slightly misogynistic rhetorical question he is posing, turn to page one hundred and EIGHTY! If you wish to answer "chip shops, Chris. Chip shops", then turn to page one hundred and EIGHTY!one.

Turn to page one hundred and EIGHTY!one, but keep thumb on previous page in case something a bit bad happens, and I decide I'd rather do the other thing.

10. Church of Misery - Cities on Flame with Rock and Roll
You have been found guilty of gross, reprehensible bookcheating. You fall into a pit of spikes and, quite understandably die. No French Fancy for you this time, kiddo. At least, as you meet your maker in a compromising impalement scenario, you get to listen to a really fucking fantastic song that every one with even the most passing acquaintance with THE RIFF should listen to and adore. Even if they are otherwise cementheaded. Now, back to your pit-shaped spike-filled DOOM, motherblubber!

Do you wish to play again Y/N?

Y

I'm a book. Not a game. You are not the WarAmp of FireSpaz Mountain. Now fuck off.

GAZE INTO THE FIST OF DREDD!

2008-02-15T14:15:00.000-08:00

I ran out of Dredd swears. Soz.

---

Indeed.

Come with now, on a journey through ~~time and space~~ the mysterious outer reaches of the musical world, a world inhabited by, well, music. But weird music, the likes of which you have never ~~seen~~ heard before. Unless you have, of course. Oh, and orcs. There might be orcs. But mainly the musics.

1. Blancmange - Wasted
Blancmange should never be wasted. It's tasty goodness should be consumed, savoured, digested and ultimately squeezed out again. What's Blancmange made of? Is it actually organic, or is it just an agglomeration of fluffy pink chemicals? Who cares when it tastes so good! Lovely song, incidentally. Poor, overlooked Blancmange (both band and tasty agglomeration of fluffy pink chemicals).

2. Tom Jones - You Can't Stop Love
Tom puts his rape-threat hat on. And warbles a pleasant, but hardly outstanding little tune whilst he's about it. Orange leather, isn't it.

3. Can - Up The Bakerloo Line With Anne
It's Can, and therefore spunktastic. I could explain why, I could, but then I'd have to knock marks off for musical ignorance. And no one wants that now, do they? DO THEY? Thought not. It's also nearly twenty minutes long, so I shall be back later.

4. Nirvana - Mr. Moustache
That would be a stupid name. I mean, even if he had a moustache, how would his parents have known? That's pressure, that is. Pressure to conform and ultimately grow a moustache (as opposed to growing the ultimate moustache, which would be an entirely different proposition). Imagine if the poor chap had been Amish. Oh, the confusion.

5. EPMD - Strictly Business
Ah, the first golden age of hip hop. Stupid copyright laws, messing with the Scary Rap Dudes. The very definition of quality (well, it's not. Not strictly speaking. Don't use it in an essay or anything).

6. Green Day - Jesus of Suburbia
Poor chap. Nailed to some decking near a water feature. TUNE!

7. The Four Tops - Walk Away, Renee
So much better than the other version it hurts. Owned in the FACE, Left Banke.

8. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Black Tongue
Absolutely fine, just so long as you pay little to no attention to the actual words being sung. That just ruins it.

9. David Essex - Oh! What a Circus
Oh! What a show. And Oh! What a song. Stop looking at me like that.

10. The Minus 5 - Courage is the Smallest Bird
I think you'll find it's actually one of the hummingbirds, dude.

11. The Sweet - Wig Wam Bam
Sex in a tent!

12. Jethro Tull - Reasons for Waiting
Catching a bus, being served in a supermarket, taking food to the customers - hang on, this isn't Family Fortunes at all!

13. The Drifters - Under the Boardwalk
They're no Bruce Willis. He did this AND wrestled a plane.

14. Vanilla Fudge - The Sky Cried When I Was a Boy
That was rain, you spacker.

15. Tenpole Tudor - Swords of a Thousand Men
Bloody great. Wunderbar, even. No, hang on, that was the other song.

16. Turtles - Happy Together
They're no Jason Donovan. He did this AND ~~wrestled a plane~~ wore eight inches of make up.

17. Muse - Muscle Museum
It might be one of the few really good Muse songs but come on - how shit would that museum be?

18. Public Enemy - Terminator X Speaks with his Hands
What is he, a bloody puppeteer?

19. Satan's Pilgrims - Ben Tanaka
There's a man in my office whose name is very reminiscent of Hakuna Matata. I accidentally said "no worries!" to him this morning.

20. Chris Farlowe - Ride on Baby
You'll squash it, you mental pervert! Bet you got that sort of attitude from Chris Langham. Shocking.

Yes. Well. There you have it. No orcs, some musics. And gallons of fun!

BYE.

GRUDD!!!

2008-02-15T14:02:00.000-08:00

I've just eaten a curry!

---

Quite.

Blah blah blah mumble sPazAmp blah blah bleurgh shuffle do de doo dooo mumble cementheads.

1. Jello Biafra & Mojo Nixon (and probably some Toadliquors) - Hamlet Chicken Plant Disaster
Featuring no Jello Biafra at all. Unless he's making a weird, barely discernible noise in the background, or something. Still, much as I do love a bit of Jello, the better songs on the album are the ones where he isn't there. Mojo don't need no collaborations to be brilliant. Well, maybe Skid Roper. And possibly the toadliquors. And Jello Biafra sometimes. Okay, so maybe he does. Sometimes. But not at others. I'm going to stop now, because the fence is digging into my buttocks. That might be a euphemism. For bumming.

2. The Dicks Hate the Police
They do, you know. Really hate them. Absolutely can't stick them. Which may also be a euphemism. For bumming. However, the really sad aspect of this whole affair is not the bumming euphemism, it's the fact that they didn't manage to record anything that came within a million miles of being as good as this. They tried, they failed. Like Michael Barrymore trying to escape his past.

3. Melvins - Leeech
Reeeally spleeendid. I like the Melvins, did you know? I don't think I've ever really mentioned it before. And, reading back over this entry, I don't think I can find a single thing that could be construed as a euphemism for bumming. Which, I'm sure you will all agree, is a shame. Poor, stillborn running joke. How we mourn thee.

4. The Electric Prunes - Mujo 22
The start of this sounds exactly like something Rudi Vandersario and Spider Dijon might record. In fact, most of the song could have been spawned by the infamous bongo brothers. Which is amusing if that means anything to you, and isn't worth finding out if it doesn't (mainly because the song is a bit like Josh Hartnett's acting skills. That is, painful, tragic and cursed with an incredibly square head.

5. Lee Dresser & the Krazy Kats - Beat Out My Love
Not so much a euphemism for furious fapping as a direct, matter of fact musical showcase of it. Which, if you think about the sentence for a fraction too long, sounds really disgusting and bizarre. Still, it's really good in its own inimitable 50s twisted rock'n'roll way.

6. Jean-Jacques Perrey - 18th Century Puppet
Biting historical comment on the political situation in Europe in a time of stirring unrest and social upheaval, or a plinkly plonkly early electronic oddity? You decide.

7. The Littlest Hobo Theme
Elton John is naming his next tour after this, and only changing one letter. Although why he would want to call his tour "the littlest hrbo tour" I have no idea.

8. Muse - Hoodoo
Piss off you overearnest, overblown, over-egger-of-puddings midget tosspot. I like two entire songs, one entire half of another and, if I'm lucky, a little ten second snatch here and there. Although the last part is more to do with my Tom Sizemore-esque prostitute addiction than it is to do with Muse. He's forever pestering me to trade videos, you know. The big pervert.

9. MC5 - Rocket Reducer No. 62 (Rama Lama Fa Fa Fa)
How? I mean, just how? How do you make one stonkingly, ball-cuppingly wondrous album and then manage to do very little but rather strained averageness all around it? I don't actually want any answers or sensible comments regarding band troubles, this being a live album or any other nonsense. I just wanted some easy to type waffle with which to fill this entry, and pointing out that this album is leagues ahead of anything else they (or indeed most other people) ever managed seemed as good a bet as anything. I may as well have typed a small treatise on the relative attractiveness of cod when compared to other edible sea creatures for all the good this has done. And it seems to have taken me nearly six minutes. Bah.

10. Terry and the Blue Jeans - Misirlou
They're Japanese. Which is of absolutely no relevance. Or perhaps even less than that. I think I'm just unconsciously trying to justify having eight bajillion versions of Misirlou. All of which I love. In a bumming way.

11. Jose Feliciano - Tu Me Haces Falta
I no haces your falta. I gave it you back. You just can't find it.

12. Jose Feliciano - Miss Otis Regrets
AND WHAT THE FUCK IS RANDOM ABOUT THAT, PLEASE?

13. Isaac Hayes - (they long to be) Close to You
It's because they want to bum your big scientologist bum, Ike. And how!

14. Andy Williams - Can't Get Used to Losing You
You better try, bucko. I ain't coming back to your wrinkly, crooning bumface. I love this song (and several other Andy Williams songs).

15. Ricky Martin - Por Arriba, Por Abajo
Haven't a clue what he's on about, he looks like he has down's, he's grown a seriously ill-advised beard, but I love him.

16. Masta Killa - D.T.D. (feat. a whole bunch of people)
My joint second favourite solo Wu-Tang (first being GZA, first and a half being ODB and the rest being more or less all the rest of them equally).

17. Killah Priest - If You Don't Know
Jostling for postion with the aforementioned Mr. Killa in the slightly second tier of solo Wu-Tangers (a little behind U God, but slightly ahead of Redman. Mainly because he hasn't suffered from delusions of acting, and Heavy Mental is a better album than Whut? Thee annoyingly titled album!?!?)

18. R.E.M. - Get Up
...and turn the fucking stereo off. R.E.M. in tedious wankboremode. Which, to be fair, is the mode they are in most of the time, and blablabla.

19. Col. Abrams vs. Eurhythmics - Trapped Dreams
Wish it was just the Col. Abrams song instead of a mix. I love that song so hard. So hard it HURTS (the song that is, not me. It doesn't hurt me).

20. Revolting Cocks - Razor's Edge
Should any cementheads want an easy avenue into the splendid world of the massive end of semi-industrial lunacy that is the Revolting Cocks (it could be a euphemism for bumming. Or the most laboriously worded advert in a phonebox ever), then this is the song for you. And should any cementheads want a rewarding avenue into enormous throbbing basslines and frankly obscene, yet understated riffs (with added sleaze vox), then they should probably call a very specialised musical sexline. Either way, this song is motherblubbingly fantastic. Oh yes.

Bye!

BY STOMM!

2008-02-15T13:39:00.000-08:00

The sPazAmp has a top-fives gimmick! Sweet toasty Moses!

---

Bring the pain, motherblubbers. The sPazAmp is back, and its about to attack. In a sense, at least. That sense being one of total falsehood. I've finished marking, and to celebrate I shall force myself to listen to something other than things conducive to marking (Boris is good for that. It helps not being able to understand the words, less of a distraction. Tubular Bells eight times in a row was just foolhardy, though. Subliminal urges to type "a now, two slightly DISTORTED guitars!" into the annotations).

ANYHOO, I shall have to go and chastise myself for typing "anyhoo" (I'll have to do it twice, now), and then I shall be right back, walking the walk and typing the type. Only you won't really notice, because me typing this is not a realtime affair. Ha. OWNED IN THE FACE, CEMENTHEADS.

Right. And off we go.

1. Peep Durple - Pictures of Home
Classic, typical even, Purps. It goes: The whole song, then guitar bit, then bass bit, then Jon "Gandalf" Lord's patented organ-sounding-like-guitar bit, then reprise, then fade out. Ian Gillan has a grand voice. Shame he's such a twat. Graham Bonnett had a belting voice as well. He was a right old twat and all.

Top Five Singers that Sung with Ritchie Blackmore (Twatdom optional):
1. Graham Bonnett (edges out the Trousersnake)
2. Ian Gillan
3. Ronnie James Dio (the lowest placed acceptable set of pipes)
4. The first one, forget his name. Used to blarble on inoffensively when they thought they were Vanilla Fudge.
5. Joe-Lynn Turner (stupid bollockhead. STOP GETTING RAINBOW WRONG)

2. Surgery - Bronto
First rate driving, thundering, grinding, sleazy, slithering noiseblues of the very best AmRep kind. Off their masterpiece "Nationwide", that I am sure you will now be out scouring the second hand shops for in order to buy it, entirely on my advice. Better than Nirvana (when Nirvana did good things. That is, when they weren't being turned into Cheap Trick for Nevermind). In fact, nothing like Nirvana, really. Well a bit. But that bit better. I'm confused.

Top Five Nationwide Presenters:
1. Hugh Scully
2. Sue Lawley
3. Frank "Hookers'n'Coke" Bough
4. That other bloke that did that thing, going out to places
5. Someone else

3.Roky Erickson - Bloody Hammer
One of Roky's high points from his solo wilderness. Sounds like about four other people, one of which is the Damned, and is therefore a good thing. Poor Roky. Never saw a penny from all them mobile phones.

Top Five Sylvester Stallone Films:
1. Ro(c)ky
2. Judge Dredd
3. First Blood
4. Ro(c)ky II
5. Cliffhanger

He was good in Copland (but the film was a bit poo) and Lords of Flatbush is a load of old mumbly shit.

4. Soft Cell - Numbers
In between the stunning high points, Soft Cell managed to produce a veritable mountain of musical effluent. This is a synthy morsel of that mountain.

Top Five Numbers:

1. One
2. Two
3. Three
4. Five
5. Eight

5. Tenacious D - The Metal
What's it gonna be, Kyle - Tits, or DESTINY?
tits.

Top Five Metals:
1. Heavy
2. Doom
3. Death
4. Thrash
5. Dalekanium

6. The Volcanoes - Murder USA
Sadly forgotten by the world at large, it is impossible to get hold of the splendid poppy, punky garage-tinged wonderment that was The Volcanoes. I'm restricted to the four songs I now own - two on a single obtained for free when they supported The Damned (Roman Jugg produced it and the album) and two songs on a Hybrid compilation. All four are fucking magnificent and it reduces me almost to the brink of thinking about tears that there is an entire album somewhere in the world that I can't have. Bastards.

Top Five Most Serious Natural Disasters:

1. Solar Storm
2. Michael Bay making films
3. Super volcano thing
4. Josh Squarehead Hartnett "acting" in them
5. BIRD FLU (or is it BSE again this month? Or chavitis?)

7. QOTSA - Mosquito Song
QOTSA were twice the band when Nick was a member: discuss. (hint: the answer is "yes, yes they were. and how!"

Top Five Diseases Contracted from Mosquitoes:

1. Malaria
2. Dengue Fever
3. Mosquito Aids (if you are insectophilic insectivert. On the plus side, a gnat's chuff really is as tight as a gnat's chuff [/herring])
4. Measles
5. Mosquitoitis

8. Tom Jones - Little Green Bag
I believe there should be a (feat. Bare Naked Ladies) in there somewhere. Better than the original. Because it's Tom. And Tom improves everything he even thinks of. It's a scientifical fact, dudes. He even improves the Bare Naked Ladies. Mind you, a mighty car crash would improve them. Sorry Canada.

Top Five Things About Tom Jones

1. He's Tom Jones!
2. He's made of durable orange leather
3. He's had so many face lifts, he can't help but smile
4. He can sing like a big-lunged bitch
5. He's from Wales

9. Faith No More - Out of Nowhere
Oof, powerful musical flashback. It's the early nineties again, and this is the only good selection on Gemstones fancy new-fangled video jukebox (well, it had Groove is the Heart on it too, which was good. But this was better. And besides, they'd spelt it "Grove is the Heart" for some reason. Took the edge off).

Top Five Places visited on a Thursday Night Out after Work in the Late Eighties/Early Nineties:

1. Cyprus Tavern
2. Konspiracy
3. The Beer House
4. Isadora's
=5. The Ducie Bridge
=5. Smithfields

10. Dead Kennedys - Moon Over Marin
If every album was of a comparably fucking wonderful standard as Frankenchrist, the world would be a happier place. Of course, this is off Plastic Surgery Disasters, but side two of that is just as good. Don't know why I pointed that out, you'd never have noticed because a: you aren't reading this and b: you're a cementhead who doesn't like Jello and his friends.

Top Five Kennedys

1. The song by the Wedding Present
2. Karl
3. Susan
4. Space Cent(e)r(e)
5. Nigel

11. NWA - Gangsta, Gangsta
With a right, left, right left you're toothless and then you say goddam they ruthless. Do I look like a motherblubbing role model?

Top Five Niggaz with Attitude

1. Eazy-E
2. Ice Cube (before he turned into a complete arse)
3. Dr. Dre (when he had more than one beat)
4. Ron de Vu
5. The Arabian Prince

Sorry Ren and Yella. Bet they aren't your real names anyway.

12. Leatherface - I Want the Moon
Well you can't have it, Frankie lad. Still, hoping to be remembered by more than just me (and the occasional notable other) for such bloody heartfelt, tuneful, frankly loud wonderfulness isn't exactly asking for the moon. You didn't get that, either. Life is a right evil tart.

Top Five Murderous Cinema Franchise People:

1. Michael Myers
2. Jason
3. Leatherface
4. One of the Cenobites (take your pick)
5. Mr. F. Krueger

13. Bryan Ferry - A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall
So far beyond the original in terms of splendour that the whiny nasal tramp's version can't even be seen by the Hubble telescope. In fact, each and every track on his recent album of Dylan covers is vastly superior to the original. And it is a well known fact that Baz hasn't managed a decent solo album since about 1988. Such is the inability of the whiny nasal tramp to decently perform the rather good songs he's written (plus, the Ferry album is really rather good, too).

Top Five Things Preferable to listening to the Whiny Nasal Tramp

1. Being gnawed to death by stoats
2. Shingles
3. Being Jerry Falwell (that would have made a weird film)
4. Knowing Richard Littlejohn (okay, I may have exaggerated)
5. Suffering a hemicorporectomy

14. Kylie Minogue - Red Blooded Woman
Congratulations Kylie, you're not a Vulcan. It's certainly no "Some Kind of Bliss" (back me up on this, Jona), but it's certainly a marvelous slice of homogenous pop.

Top Five Neighbours:

1. Mrs. Pincott, who used to let me walk her dog when I was little. Even though it nearly killed me by dragging me down a hill.
2. Bouncer
3. Libby
4. The nice old lady who died last year, bless her. Had a voice like a man, and looked like the manlady off The Golden Girls. I think she may have been a man. But still, bless her.
5. Karl Kennedy

15. War of the Worlds - Forever Autumn
Ah, the one time Justin Hayward made me cry (tears of anything other than sheer horror). Mind you, that's only because my Uncle had died (the uncle that would take us to play football and such. The cool uncle, who bestrode my tiny-yet-horizonless world like a colossus of knowledgeability and aceness. He wasn't even thirty), and then this was in the charts, and it made my mum cry, which made me cry. Three years or so later, the most wonderful primary school teacher in the world carted her own record player into school and played it for us, all in the name of learning and literature. I was an impressionable child and by then I think it was Richard Burton's voiceover that led to Ms. Locke's concern over my wellbeing.

Top Five Seasons:

1. Winter
2. Autumn
3. Summer
4. Paprika
5. Spring

16. Thee Mighty Caesars - Jack the Ripper
It's one of the instrumental ones. Add that to the previously gained medway knowledge, and you'll know how ace it is and practically be able to hear the genius thud and clatter of Bruce's drums.

Top Five Caesars:

1. Julius
2. Augustus
3. Octavius (maybe)
4. Julius II
5. Julius III

17. NKOTB - Hangin' Tough
I've no idea why this is on the sPazAmp. It might be one of the "downloaded on request by someone else" songs, I really don't know. I mean, it's not like I'd be afraid to fess up if it was one of mine (cf Tom Jones, Kylie, Ricky Martin, etc, etc). Bizarre.

Top Five NKOTBers

1. None of them

18. Roxy Music - A Song for Europe (Live '75)
Not the best quality (although as mid-70s bootlegs go, it's pretty good), but still, one of the finest songs ever created by man, beast or musical deity. Implicit bathos by the ladleful, heartfelt pathos by the wheelbarrowful, soul-squeezing indefinable sadness by the JCB-ful, plus an oboe! Plus it's sung in upwards of THREE different languages! By CHRIST I love this song. And so do you. Unless you're a massive cementhead, of course.

Top Five Songs for Europe

1. Izhar Cohen & Alphabeta - A-Ba-Ni-Bi
2. Herreys - Diggi-loo, Diggi-lay
3. Nicole- Ein Bisschen Frieden
4. Brainstorm - My Star (they were robbed, ROBBED I tell you. Stupid Danes)
5. Brotherhood of Mann - Save all Your Kisses

19. 1000 Homo DJs - Apathy
Best random purchase ever. A simple 12" cover, no info other than the titles - it was in the industrial section of Piccadilly records and the cover was a pastiche of the Black Sabbath album cover (it had a cover of Supernaut as first track - this was the second of two records, but the shop stuck on labels connected them, see). This was in the pre-t'internet days of knowing what every single release will contain, and who will do what on it. Turned out to be most of Ministry, William Rieflin plus a little bit of Jello! Bargain, as they say.

Top Five Record Shops that are or have been in Manchester

1. Eastern Bloc (when it had two bits, and you'd get served by the chap out of 808 State in one of them)
2. Piccadilly Records (when it was near Spin Inn, before Evil Fopp stole it)
3. Spin Inn (before it died a lonely death)
4. Goldmine (before it was bulldozed)
5. That chap's stall in the Corn Exchange (before it was bombed to buggery, and was accidentally gentrified by the IRA)

20. Ocean Colour Scene - Get Blown Away
I had previously been rumbled listening to an OCS song - the mind had wandered, I'd forgotten this window was open. Christ, do you really think I do nothing but record a good couple of hours thoughts in the one post? Do fup off. I feel like the chap revealing that Milli Vanilli mimed but no, sometimes I do other things. And, during those other things, OCS had popped up. ANYWAY. I went back and this was the choice (chosen by me, because it's fantastic). Entirely ripped off from Status Quo (Pictures of Matchstalk Men, and all the better for it), and quite splendid.

Top Five Latin Expressions:

1. Status Quo
2. Quod Erat Demostrandum (as one hopeful bod ended his A Level answer with)
3. Three others.

So there you go. A perfect demonstration of the imbalance of effort to appreciation. I care not (well, maybe a little), I got to have fun even if nobody else did.

MY DOK!!

2008-02-15T13:28:00.001-08:00

It's a themed sPazAmp from the vaults! Head for the hills!

---

Now, as Boris are official this week's Best Band in the World (a title they've held on many an other week, but I hadn't just been to see them those weeks) I felt it was only right to have a shuffle just of Boris. But then I realised you don't deserve a full twenty slices of Borissy goodness. Your soft, underdeveloped musical palates would wilt under the onslaught. I'd better temper it slightly and do a shuffle of everything on sPazAmp tagged "Sludge". Then I realised you'd only be reading my witterings on the subjects, not hearing the songs themselves, but it was too late by then. I'd got my mind set on it, as George Harrison nearly sang (to a tune he'd nicked. Like all his tunes, the thieving git).

So sit back, relax, and allow the sludge to wash over you. As if you were living in a low-lying part of Yorkshire this past week.

1. Thorr's Hammer - Norge
I've got my Thorr's Hammer t-shirt on! It's like sPazAmp can see me. How weird would that be? I wonder what it thinks, when it stares at me so? It's probably in awe, in awe of my musical taste and the wonderful songs it gets to play for me. Yes, that's probably it. It's 7m37s long, if you're keeping a log (this will probably be the longest shuffle in the History of Shuffles. I'm the official historian, you know).

2. Electric Wizard - The Chrononaut (demo)
The wizaaaard! It wouldn't be such a useful thing I don't think, to be an Electric Wizard. You'd have to be plugged in all the time, or have an enormous battery pack. Regular wizards don't have that hassle. I hope the probably increase in power is worth the mobility trade off. Whole things seems like a load of unnecessary effort. Tch, progress. 10m20s.

3. Boris with Keiji Haino - from the distance, with their own gentle eyes always fixed on us, they are affectionately gazing at the Black, Implication Flooding
The title is longer than the song! Not really, the song is 6m36s. Not even Stephen Hawking would take that long to read it out.

4. Boris -1970
If they'd had music this good in 1970, they wouldn't have to make it now. Rocks like a demented bull ripped to the tits on rocking pills. Whatever they are. 4m58s

5. Monster Magnet - Ego, the Living Planet
I've been there. It's massive, and it rocks. I once had a go on Dave Wyndorf's guitar, you know. That isn't a euphemsim for having a go on his winky. 5m7s

6. Earth - Plague of Angels
That'd be a right pain, that would. What if they moulted? They'd have massive feathers. Plus, they'd be forever mooching around, pontificating about religion and such. Plus it'd be really hard to disagree with them, as them being there would sort of prove their own point, even before they made it. Sodding angels. Good series though (not a patch on Buffy, mind). 14m47s. Kurt Cobain was reasonably good friends with Dylan Carlson of the Earth fame, y'know. He even pops up on a live album.

7. Goatsnake - The River
Grinds like a motherblubber, does this. Like Melvins with a huge injection of THE RIFF. Sadly not a cover of the Springsteen song. 8m14s. Nearly an hour in!

8. Electric Wizard - Funeralopolis
The wizaaard! Again! This was the best song in the world a couple of days ago. Because my reckoning of these things is the world's official barometer. Oh yes. Big, loping, grindsome basstro? Check. Grinding fuzztastic guitar onslaught at the same loping pace? Check. Indecipherable lyrics (always a bonus in these cases)? Check. Big medal for being best song in the world pinned to it's satanic lapel? Check. Check check check. Check. 8m43s? Check. Checkity check.

9. Boris - Ano Onna No Onryou
Fucking wonderful, you motherblubber. Shame they didn't play it last night. I like to think that they save it for an encore, and given that that they had to leave the stage via the crowd, the encore was a bit unlikely. Didn't stop people shouting at the empty stage, though. Fools. 9m32s.

10. sunn o))) - A Shaving of the Horn that Speared you
Ooh, matron. Mr. Boris had a sunn o))) t-shirt on. He looked spiffing. This should be Andy's favourite sunn o))) song. 17m50s. Back later.

11. sunn o))) & Boris - Akuma no Kuma
The pinnacle of man's musical achievements (that isn't done by Boris on their own). 7m52s of orgasmic ecstacy in music form.

12. Orthodox - Arrodillate ante La Madera y La Piedra
They're Spanish, y'know. What relevance this has to the fact that they grind and drone like specially grown steroid enhanced grind and drone beasts, I don't know. But I thought I'd tell you anyway. They're grand. 11m36s.

13. Monster Magnet - Snake Dance
It's the original version off the mini LP, not the superior re-recording album version and blahblahblah (I nicked that off Michael the Stripe off of noted chart popsters REM). Still like, totally awesome, dude. A mere 3m21s.

14. sunn o))) - Rabbit's Revenge
I've just noticed that I don't have Melvins tagged as sludge. I was wondering why they hadn't popped up yet. Oh well, too late to change it now, I suppose. 14m01s.

15. Earth - Tibetan Quaaludes
15% more effective than Nepalese Quaaludes, factdudes. 7m43s.

16. Deer Creek - The Gateway was Broken
Hope it's fixed now. Very little idea who these are, except they had a split with Church of Misery. Pleasant enough, and a brief 4m23s.

17. Church of Misery - Cities on Flame with Rock and Roll
In my capacity as Lord of Rock, I command you all to like this. NOW, motherblubbing cementheads. 4m0s.

18. Goatsnake - Flower of Disease
Probably about syphilis. If so, it's the best song about syphilis ever! 6m39s, time fanatics.

19. Boris - Pink
If there was any justice in the sPazAmping world, this would be #20. The little yelp at the start was the drummer, in case you were wondering. It's 4m20s and fucking wonderfuckingful, motherblubbers.

20. Thrones - Reddleman
I've just had to read Return of the Native again, too. The bastards. Thanks for reminding me (although at least he does get lots of money and a happy married life at the end. It's not a spoiler, I'm saving you from 400 odd pages of turgid misery. Go team Diggory!) 2m54s

So, yeah. One shuffle, best part of three hours and Boris are still really good, motherblubbers.

DROKK YOU, LAWBREAKER!

2008-02-15T12:43:00.000-08:00

For some reason, the intro to this particular plunge into the sPazAmpular past reads like some kind of relaunch. Like when 2000ad swallowed up Starlord and they sort of started Strontium Dog all over again, almost as though the Starlord adventures hadn't happened, but not quite as though it were entirely new. Odd, can't remember why (the sPazAmp bit, not the Johnny Alpha bit. I get that bit, I do know about comics). Hey ho. Let's go!

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Being a shuffleological sPazAmpvert, I've decided to waste many, many minutes of my life recording my listening habits accompanied by inane blatherings and then firing the completed missive into the cold, uncaring and very possibly ear-less internets.

My shuffles are like my beloved United. Nobody likes them, and we don't care.

Anyway, settle down comfortably, chisel some of the cement from your ears, and I'll begin...

1. Queen - Ogre Battle
Way to ruin Saturday, shufflegods. Not content with the stench filled shit thrown at me through the working day (granted, probably not their direct responsibility. That's probably down to the IB Claimant Gods. If they exist. And, if they do, provided they aren't off sick with "tremors" or near-terminal sciatica), it flings this piece of musical poo at my head at the start of the shuffle. Oh world, why must you taunt me so.

2. Chico Magnetic Band - Cross Town Traffic
Now this is more likely. Crazy French psych-prog band from the very early seventies vastly improves Jimi Hendrix (some might argue that such a feat is far from difficult, and even go on to say that Jimi managed it himself by carking it. But I would never be so cruel). But the best bit about how they vastly improve it is that they patently believe themselves to be faithfully covering it. And yet it goes geniusly awry. How splendid.

3. Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Fucking Titch - Hold Tight
Rip off sixties luminous pop vomit. And not in a good way.

4. Carter USM - Do Re Me, So Far So Good
A long way from my favourite Carter effort. Not without redeeming features (catchy chorus, as per usual), but it hardly scales the heights and slips into a big mucky pit signposted as "the big bunch of moderately successful and popular Carter songs that all sound the same, really". And not particularly in a good way.

5. Tindersticks - Sweet Memory
I have one of those. Ah, the lovely wine gums I had on the bus this morning at seven in the morning. Were I to compile a list of least favourite Tindersticks songs (an unlikely prospect, but you never know. You really don't), this would be right up there. Or down there, depending on how you look at it. It's like Coldplay gone gently country. And not in a good way (there is no good way for that).

6. The Southwest F.O.B. - Green Skies
Texas psychey garage that can't make it's mind up who or what to be. Oh, to tinkle the hammond, oh to jangle the guitars, oh to go for moody brooding psychpop, oh to suddenly introduce a brass element for no reason. Oh to sod it, let's shove them all in. And not in a good way.

7. Randy Alvey & the Green Fuz - Green Fuz
A marvelous thing. An original that the Cramps couldn't improve. Didn't happen often, but nothing could top the utterly heartfelt, musically incompetent, recorded in a bathtub on a one-track (or possibly half-track. Or possibly not, as that's a type of military vehicle) binatone dictaphone with faulty wiring. The drummer doesn't drum, he just falls into his kit now and again. The singer tries to make being "the green fuz" sound like the most menacingly cool and dangerous thing there is. The guitarist plays a different song. And in a very good way indeed.

8. Melvins- Flex With You (2)
Speed Melvins. Positively races along by their standards. Over in less than a minute, too. Nice.

9. Earth - Phase 3: Agni Detonating over the Thar Desert
Exactly what it says on the tin. It's as it sounds. It's fucking wonderful. It really is bliss. Well, some kind of bliss. No, not that some kind of bliss. Calm down Jona.

10. The Bambi Molesters - Tremor
Now THAT'S what I call mixing (vol. 86). Armageddon in drone form followed by THE TWANG. Lovely.

11. The Solarflares - The Mountain
Not sure which mountain he means. The Eiger, perhaps. Don't care, really. Graham Day could sing about a big pile of non-recyclable rubbish and it'd be fucking superb.

12. Boredoms - Your Name is Limitless
No it isn't. But your aceness is.

13. The Dickies - Nights in White Satin
I can't abide the original. I haven't much time for the Dickies. It's a fucking dismal excuse for a no win situation. Damn you, shufflegods *shakes fist*

14. The Fall - Shoulder Pads 1
That makes for a foolishly lopsided jacket, you pleb.

15. Hawkwind - Seven by Seven
Ace despite, no BECAUSE it always makes me think of the Stone'enge song in Spinal Tap.

16. Hugo Montenegro - Secret Agent Man
For some reason, they were playing this at Bolton bus station this afternoon. One of the most surreal musical experiences, toes uncontrollably a-tappin' whilst waiting for the number 8 bus in the dingiest bus stop ever surrounded by inbred pie-fondling yonners carting off their cheap tat booty from the market next door. Yeah!

17. Soulsavers - Ghosts of You and Me
Not my favourite Mark Lanegan's Patented Whisky Raddled Sex in Violently Harsh Cigarette Enhanced Voice Form vehicle, but hey, it's still The Lanegan. And therefore good. Yes, so.

18. Jack and Jim - Midnight Monster's Hop
I have no idea who Jack or Jim are, but I often thank them (not in person. If I could do that, I'd have some idea who they are/were. Obv.) for making a wonderful little late fifties monster-themed boptastic hopsong. In the peloton of late fifties monster-themed boptastic hopsongs pursuing the yellow jersey of Bert Convy.

19. Fun Lovin' Criminals - King of New York
One of only three rather tremendous reasons for Fun Lovin' Criminals being allowed to exist. All other musical examples perpetrated by them are michelin starred heaps of caterpillar excrement that contravene all laws of taste, decency and curiously, Guatemala.

20. The Kills - The Good Ones
Oh, the bitter irony.

Thanks for listening, now pack up and ship out. Or pack up and fuck off, it's up to you really.

I'm talking to myself. As well as typing to myself.

Cold turkey - and you stink of CHEESE!

2008-02-15T12:35:00.000-08:00

Editorial note - Big Boy Pete does not appear in this sPazAmp. Sorry. I just happened to be listening to it when I was typing the title. Sue me, bitch.

---

Today's shuffle is sponsored by the humble mojito. Although mine look better than that one. And taste better (and not just because mine are real and that one's just a picture. Mine taste better than the real one that is a picture of. Obv). Because I am the Master Barman. Feel my wrath.

Go on. Feel it.

Thanks.

Anyway...

1. Nick Cave and the Sad Beads - The Weeping Song
Dude, think of proper fucking titles for you songs. Lazy tossrag. Plus, we'll have no sodding weeping on a post sponsored by bloody mojitos (not actually bloody. The twist isn't the addition of tomato juice, that would just be weird). Nice enough, not my favourite, pleasant in a slightly trundling way. One of a huge batch of songs he cooked up at the same time from the exact same ingredients. Hence them all sounding largely the same. Yeah, we get it Nick. You're unhappy about something.

2. Desert Sessions - Jr. High Love
Quite frankly arse. He even mentions one at one point. Although strictly speaking, he says 'ass'. As well as 'cunt' and 'fuck' and 'yeah'. Never been entirely convinced of the worth of the whole Desert Session bollocks. If anything is like, REALLY good, I bet they save it for their own record.

3. Supersuckers - Gato Negro
About the time they took the Rolling Stones advice and redecorated the entrance to their garden. The advice was the choice of colour, not the actual action of painting a gate, obv. Also obv. is the fact that I'm whispering out of my anus. I have no idea what it's about, and to be honest I don't rightly care, either. A bit piss, really. Noisily and enjoyably so, but nevertheless a bit piss. 3/10 must try harder.

4. Fannypack - Seven One Eight
Poor counting skills. But I'll ignore that because it's ace. In a way that it is beyond my abilities to describe (not really, it's just an excuse not to as I'm too busy chairbopping).

5. Roxy Music - Would You Believe? (BBC Sessions)
Hell yes I would, dude. Unfortunately, it's not the original version and is thus missing the teeny tiny moment of drum magic. I'm not going to describe it here because I'm not listening to it. But it's dead good.

6. Soft Cell - Born to Lose
I sometimes wonder just how many copies of the Soft Cell albums Jarvis Cocker and Pulp had, and just how often they listened to them. Poor, overlooked Soft Cell. Should be miles more famouser.

7. The Animated Egg - "T"omorrow
A bit of a groovy instrumental wig-out with a stupid title and bits of about eighteen tunes stolen from other people. Alright, in its way.

8. Bryan Ferry - Party Doll
From his painfully overlooked "attempt to crack America" masterpiece (he failed, like, but it is still a masterpiece of pop perfection), "In Your Mind". Probably about rubber dolls. He has form for it, the big perv.

9. The Fabulous Wailers - Out of Our Tree
Nothing to do with Bob Marley. Thank the tiny music gods. Like The Sonics, only better.

10. Alice Donut - She Loves You She Wants You It's Amazing How Much Head Wounds Bleed
Sleazy jazz filtered through a really dirty sieve. One that's been used to filter other, really disgusting things. And then fired at a prism made out of something unsettling. A bit like Cows, with added tune. Well, it has a trombone on it and is a bit weird. I suppose that's the end of any real similarity between the two. Soz.

11. Crooklyn Clan - Be Faithful
Phun, Phat and with a phucking scary phideo. There should be more songs this enjoyable and more videos with people with absolutely massive heads that shout a lot (even when interviewed in the real).

12. Jesus Lizard - Gladiator
David Yow blotted his copybook (assuming he has one. Not entirely sure what a copybook is) by slumming it with Shellac. The FOOL. Your own band is so much better!

13. Terry Davidson & the Hurricanes - Hurray for Hazel
Terry sounds about 10. He seems to really like Hazel, too. But Hazel who? Blears? Irvine? Nut? A bit of an odd twist of the usual sixties teen garage thing. I suspect Bowlie in general would love it, not that you'll believe me (or are even reading this).

14. I Love You - Hang Straight Up
A tiny bit psychedelically-infused hearty, cheery, mighty melodic rock (with a tinge of prog) from the early nineties (with the expectedly tremendously clean production and quite splendid guitars). I love this album so much. I don't think they did another. I'm not really sure - you try searching for them. Not easy with a name like that, I can tell you. Which I just did. Primo!

15. Anna Oxygen - Hypertension
Someone else with a lot of Soft Cell records. As much as I love this (and that is a LOT), everytime I hear it I can't help but think of the Electro band that Vince Noir joined in the first series of the Mighty Boosh. Not a bad thing, but it does bring a rather inappropriate smile to the chops. I wonder if she knows Johnny Two Hats.

16. Wombles - Remember You're a Womble
But I'm not, dude. I just pick up litter because I like it. I use for my nest.

17. BREED77 - La Ultima Hora
All metal should be this good. And sung in Spanish. EL RIFF!

18. Golden Earring - Radar Love
That'll make Mark a happy man, then. Well, provided that he doesn't mind the lovin' being provided by hairy dutch drumkit jumpers. I heart this song.

19. Harry Chapin - Cats in the Cradle
GET THEM OUT! THEY'LL ACCIDENTALLY SMOTHER YOUR CHILD! Seriously ace (the song, not smothering children with pets).

20. The Solarflares - Lifetime in One Season
If I have to tell you lot how arse-shatteringly good Graham Day (and all his bands) is/are, then I will cry. Or possibly go on a big murderous cementhead-targetted maiming spree. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

So there you go. A load more words for you not to read. Here I sit, with fingertips perceptibly shorter than they were when I started, slogging my gutlets out to bring some musical light into your benighted sonic slums (Solarflares! Harry Chapin! Wombles!) and what do you do? Chuff all. You just sit there wasting your eyes by not reading.

On your own eyes/ears/whatevs be it.

Hmph.

BYE (obv.)

sPazAmp's back - ALRIGHT!

2008-02-15T12:26:00.000-08:00

I have an anecdote relating to a television, Michael Barrymore, and THAT song. Don't make me recount it, i may do a little sick in my mouth.

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Chaos Eel. Scourge of the high seas, low lands (particularly Belgium), medium level rivers, aquariums and branches of Pets at Home everywhere. Sowing discord, unrest, uncertainty and kelp wherever he/it/they go. He/it/they has five heads. He/it/they are here to endorse the Art of the sPazAmp shuffle and by special request of Out of the Blue.

But enough tittle tattle, on with THE CHAOS.

1. Monster Magnet - Nod Scene (The Resin Scrapers)
Right up Chaos Eel's watery, discord filled street. It's the version from the original EP rather than the LP (like that means anything to you lot, cementheads), so it's rawer and pleasingly frayed about the edges. Unfortunately this is paid for by Dave Wyndorf not being able to sing yet and the thing not quite being as immense and overbearingly enveloping as the finished version. I'd muse about whether I prefer this version or that version, but to be frank I really don't think you a flying eel's toss about the matter. Oh, and I suspect it to be about The Drugs.

2. Zoffy - White Room
Mental friends of Kawabata and the lovely AMT loons. For all I can tell, it may well be a cover. I suspect it is. Imagine the Cream song in disguise. A very heavy disguise. The musical equivalent of a wig, false 'tache, comedy glasses with fake nose and a new head. The level of disguise generally only accomplished by John Travolta and Nicolas Cage in Face/Off. I'd say, on the whole, it's an improvement.

3. Upsilon Acrux - Bicycle Race
Two covers in a row! The level of disguise is similar to that employed by Zoffy. It's fantastic. I think Queen would be mortally offended if they heard it. Especially Mrs. Roger Taylor, the drummer.

4. NoMeansNo - Oh no! Bruno!
Sort of like The Ramones as filtered through the slightly perverted (not in a sexual way) musical prism of the Wrights and Wrong. Which means it is very nearly infinitely better, of course. They have an appealing and unmistakeable way with their instruments and a knack for making even the most apparently straightforward song sound slightly disconcerting. I heart them.

5. Thee Headcoats - Beach Bums Die
Billy Childish absorbing the Beach Boys and regurgitating them as a barely there-fi, medway garage paean to murdering nobs loitering by the sea. Splendid.

6. The Kleptones - Love Song for Yoshimi
Mix of hip hop and the Flaming Lips tune. Even this version makes me incredibly sad on account of my Dad developing a liking for the original. He didn't really keep up with modern music, and it was quite a singular event for him to pick up something that way. Very sad. Don't want to talk about it.

7. Reverend Horton Heat - I'm Mad
Mad? He sounds bloody livid. In his singular Horton-a-billy fashion, of course. Which is a very good fashion for him to do things in. One day he may get the acclaim he deserves, but I won't be holding my breath (not least because it's unlikely to happen in the next couple of minutes, and anything much longer than that and I'd have to start breathing again for health reasons).

8. The White Stripes - The Air Near My Fingers
is no different to the air anywhere else. Unless you have magical fingers, Jack. Which you don't, you bassoon. Ridiculous title, faintly uninspiring lyrics, decent tune. Yep, it's the White Stripes alright.

9. Tim Hardin - Rolling Stone
Not about Charlie Watts. No, Tim, you are not a Rolling Stone. Nor are you a Beatle, a Kink or a Small Face. You are, in fact, a middle of the road, mediocre, overrated tree-kissing hippy.

10. King Uszniewicz & his Uszniewicztones - Satisfaction
Talking of the Rolling Stones, this is a cover. High percentage of them tonight. Which would only be of interest if you had some kind of Excel spreadsheet tracker of such matters, which would be frankly odd. They couldn't carry a tune in a speciall copperbottomed tune carrying bucket. Quite wonderfully and unintentionally off key. They think they're the best band ever. And in a strange way they are, but not in the way they think.

11. The Flaming Lips - Do You Realize?
Yes, yes I do. Give David Essex his head back.

12. Bonnie 'Prince' Billy - I Send My Love to You
Thanks Bill. I'll send you some mild affection back by UPS.

13. Singing Loins - Black Girl
Racists. Not really, they just aren't wimps and kept the actual title of the song that everyone else calls "Where Did You Sleep Last Night" when they cover it (they didn't change the lyrics either).

14. Half Man Half Biscuit - Shit Arm, Bad Tattoo
A song deserving of a better title. And a better chorus. The rest of it's great, something of a favourite on an album of favourites.

15. The Savoys - Can it Be
A tremendous fuzzed up original garage era minor classic. Helped along by the fact that the singer sounds like he is trying to invent the vocoder effect without using a vocoder.

16. The Move - Fire Brigade
Possibly my favourite variation on The Move's one tune. Except perhaps for Curly. The differences are so miniature that it is hard to quantify a discernible difference in level of appreciation. It's all good, as they say.

17. Cai - La Roca del Diablo
Flamenco tinged Spanish take on mid period Floyd-style prog. Every bit as good as that sounds.

18. The Cramps - The Crusher
Do the hammerlock, you turkeynecks!

19. Tindersticks - Rented Rooms
One of the ones where he sounds just a little bit too much like Vic Reeves in club-singer mode, which is a little off putting. Fortunately he reigns it in and it remains a lovely song.

20. Girl Trouble - Spin Out!
Awesome. The magic of Girl Trouble and movie-era Elvis song combined in one glorious package. Chaos Eel approves, and how.

So yeah. That's about it, really. Adios, cementheads.

FUNNY TITLE!

2008-02-15T12:14:00.000-08:00

AMUSING INTRODUCTION!

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Jesus totally loves my shuffles.

1. Unsane - Release
Jesus loves Unsane, too. The dude totally has taste. A veritable pinnacle of Unsaneness, this.

2. Tom Jones - Not Responsible
At least he admits it. Well aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllright. Although I've just had it pointed out to me that he is responsible for being bright orange. And leathery.

3. The Bunnys - Land of 1000 Dances
Not actually singing rabbits.

4. Man ... or Astro-Man? - The Man from F.U.C.K.Y.O.U.
Well, really. How rude.

5. Wipers - Tragedy
Not a cover. Unfortunately.

6.Terrorvision - Superchronic
I tried to go and see Terrorvision once, but ... oh I can't be bothered telling it again.

7. Bert Convy - Monster Hop
Time magazine ran a poll and voted this the best song in the world EVER. By someone called Bert Convy. It is BLOODY tremendous, though. I think he used to present game shows in the fifties and things. Should have spent more time making songs about dancing monsters if you ask me.

8. Rajput and the Seypoy Mutiny - Flower Bed
Tree shagging hippy weirdos.

9. Ludacris - Pimpin' All Over the World
Totally UnScary Massive Haired Rap Dude alert. International jetset poncing off immoral earnings. Lovely.

10. Hüsker Dü - Helter Skelter
In your FACE, remaining Beatles. And the dead ones, too.

11. Inspiral Carpets - Two Worlds Collide
Lyrics that would make an eight year old cringe, but I still love it.

12. Hypnomen - Zipgun
I think they're Swedish. Or do I mean Finnish? I'm not sure now, I've confused myself. Still good though, wherever they're from.

13. Action Swingers - Song
Comment.

14. Anti-Nowhere League - Nowhere Man
It has the same tune as all their songs on the first album. Which means it's good.

15. Afghan Whigs - Debonair
Genius. As you should well know by now, fools.

16. ODB - Rawhide
Mental Rap Dude ahoy! Poor ODB :(

17. Reverend Horton Heat - Jezebel
It's really good. Can't think of much that needs to be added, really.

18. Bentley Rhythm Ace - Let There be Flutes
And let there be tubas, too! And accordians, and sackbutts, and musical squids!

19. Mark Lanegan - Little Sadie
Is smaller than Humungous Sadie.

20. Len Bright Combo - Swimming Against the Tide of Reason
One of a handful of songs that, when I'm listening to it, I'm convinced is the best song in the world, ever. And not even Belle & Sebastian's thievery can stop that. It's just too good!

Be seeing you. Take care. You too. You have my ear. Speak, citizen. What's new with you? Stop talking! [/oblivion]

I SPEAKED A TRUE!

2008-02-15T12:03:00.000-08:00

Arnie did say that. In a deleted scene from Raw Deal. Roll out the barrel, the barrel of old sPazAmps! Gorblimey! Stone the crows! And stone Mother Brown, and her detestable cockney knees! Get in!

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I've just spent a moment listening to the youtube at the head of my previous dismal entry into this cavalcade of dross. And, safe in the knowledge that very few of you (with the occasional notable exception) have listened to anything of an even vaguely comparable quality in the intervening time, I feel emboldened to do another shuffle.

I should probably warn you that it was Marlon's de facto leaving do tonight (knowing Marlon, he may not show up for the last couple of days next week, but then reappear weeks later demanding drinks and dodging rounds as if nothing had happened. But that's another matter altogether), so me starting this at a quarter to one after that much cheap rum and this much available reasonably priced bourbon is probably more an endurance test for me than anything else. Don't say you weren't warned, cement heads.

Oh, yeah. Youtubeness. Made a right rod for me own back here. Now, whilst I can't possibly ever hope to top el trio from the last one (at the risk of impinging on my own shuffledom, there is little in the musical world that can make me melt, go weak at the knees and/or want to hug a fat middle aged Mexican man than at least fourteen points in that rendition of Malagueña Salerosa), I figured I'd give you something along the same lines to gawp at. Big hat. Big song. And yes, that is Bobert Bodriguez on the guitar, there. It's sexy where El Trio makes me weak for other reasons. The original, non-live version is even better (and has one tiny weak-knees moment, too).

Anyway. On with the endurance test.

1. Solomon Burke - Keep a Light in the Window
Unless it's a lava lamp, in which case don't bother you lampological tatvert.

2. Inspiral Carpets - Gimme Shelter (Peel Sessions Version)
I'm not entirely sure there is a version other than the Peel sessions version. Doesn't matter really, as it piddles all over the Stones. Mainly because the Stones are bunch of parent snorting coke addled talent vortices. Apart from Charlie, who is (and always has been) a reliable, cue-hitting unthrilling and dull rattler of traps.

3. Hüsker Dü - Never Talking to You Again (Live)
For most of it, none of them sound like they could give the slightest arse about the whole thing. Fortunately I can, and even more fortunately they still sound like utter dishevelled musical sex singing it, even when not arsed.

4. Soft Cell - Born to Lose
One of many songs that Pulp made it all too obvious that they had listened to at some point. Oh, and Marc Almond manages to slightly ruin it by being forever a smidgen past the acceptable drama mark. As he does with everything, ever.

5. Bloodrock - D.O.A.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again. The finest musical example of dying in a bizarre and massive plane crash, and then singing about it whilst lying to the gradually cooling corpse of your nearest and, most recently, dearest. Also, it usual features me singing me little lungs out (as it suits my range splendidly well), but not today. Not least because it isn't the Fuzztones cover version.

6. Neil Diamond - Oh, Mary
I think she knocked her cup over and ruined his favourite rug, hence Neil's exasperation. I inserted the comma myself, just to support this bout of pointless typing. I love the song really.

7. Flower Travelling Band - Spasms
It's ace, and not like writing "spasms" on the front of your IB50 claim form as at least one Incapacity Benefit claimant did. Another came in citing their principal incapacitating factor as "tremors". I mean, really. I'm not a medical expert but fucking hell, even I'd be able to tell if someone was being perpetually attacked by giant sand-worms/kevin bacon. Also, I've listened to loads of songs between this and the last one listed, I just haven't been paying attention due to distractedness. Soz.

8. Barry Dennen, Ian Gillan, some random dudes and a bunch of music - Trial Before Pilate (Including the 39 Lashes)
How terribly Eastersome. And also, rather fucking awesome. If Barry Dennen had recorded an album of him being overwrought, sneering and entirely Pontius Pilate, I'd have bought it. About nine times. Also, it's an aid to counting. It's all good, dude. Also, when Barry Pilate really bellows "DIE! - IF YOU want to" like he really means it, I feel like I'm having a tiny bit of music sex. It's the best thing ever. Honest.

9. Scissor Sisters - Return to Oz
The demo type version from the not released pre-first album album. Regardless of the version, it still remains as one of my all time favourite songs. It's like Elton John had a massively fertile orgy with the tune he'd always sought to write and Pink Floyd. With fluffing by Roxy Music.

9. The Buff Medways - You're Out the Band, Sunshine
Well, I dint want to be in your bloody stupid band anyway, dickface.

I did really. Sob.

Also, I can't count, apparently.

10. I Love You - Jesus
Seriously, it's the bandname and the songname, not just my Easterly explosion of uncontrollable faith. What makes it worse it that its a really wonderful song. I don't really love you Jesus! Not because you aren't loveable, but because I don't believe you existed, at least not in the way the Bible keeps pretending. Glad we got that one cleared up.

11. R.E.M. - Try Not to Breathe
Self-important, over-produced and dreadfully over-sung bollocks with sub sixth-form poetry lyrics. I loved it when I was 21 or so, mind. Either way, it's pretty shit advice. Unless they're filling your room with Zyklon B or something. I wouldn't put it past them, the nutters.

12. Alice Donut - In My Head
Not in mine, apparently, as I went off and did a rant about television somewhere else instead.

13. Mudhoney - Sweet Young Thing Ain't Sweet No More
Splendid song. Rubbish title if you think about it just that little bit too much. Which I suggest you don't, as I've sort of spoilt the song and appalled myself simultaneously.

14. Ian Dury - Sweet Gene Vincent
It's more than a bit good. Use your ears. Im not doing all the work for you.

15. The Damned - Problem Child
It's Problem Child, by The Damned. And, therefore, pretty good but not great. I really want to go to bed, does it show?

16. Theme From Danger Man
Probably better known to you cementheaded philistines as "that music off of Mark and Lard". Indeed.

17. Elvis Presley - The Wonder of You
I love the Elvis. I kind of hate this song a bit. I'm only typing this to hasten the end of this exercise in pointless sleep-avoidance.

18. Johnny Cash - The Streets of Laredo
Are in Laredo. Well done.

19. The Czars - Get Used to It
Possibly a bit twee. I don't care. It's a wonderfully important song to me, and simply listening to it sparks from me a multitude of thanks to the person who introduced me to it. That the person in question would have little idea of the impact of their suggestion only serves to make the outcome all the better. Thanks.

20. Dead Kennedys - Halloween
Blah blah blah its fucking fantastic blah blah it isn't halloween anymore dude blah blah did I mention quite how fucking awesome it is blah blah I did? blah blah how many times? blah blah about nine other times? blah blah wow.

Bye.

I LIED AGAIN

2008-02-15T11:32:00.000-08:00

I'm paraphrasing Arnie there. I don't think he ever said those precise words. Anyway, sorry for the lack of a February Superbean calendar. It will show up, it just might be a little late to get any February style calendar action out of it. Unless you like to colour them in retrospectively, or something. In which case, you are a DEMENTED FOOL. Still, as long as you stay inside the lines with your colouring, who am I to judge, drokk it? Ha ha, I'm so clever.

Well, no, I'm not. I've just spent far too long recently filling my spare time with re-reading of 2000ad comic strips, by stomm. Which is probably why I haven't been feeding the world much needed beanial date trackers.

Anyway, to kill a little bit of time I find trying to claw it's way out under the cover of darkness, I'm going to fill in with a couple more elderly sPazAmps. Hopefully, one day, I might catch up completely and get to do a new one.

---

Hello. I'm about to do the sPazAmp shuffle, and to celebrate, here are three rotund Mexicoans in silly hats singing a lovely, lovely song in black and white.

El bloody splendido, I'm sure you'll agree. Anyway, enough of the good and on with the tat.

1. Theme tune to The Prisoner
If you've seen The Prisoner, then you'll know the tune. On account of it being the theme. It's even better with the credits, because then you get to see the 1960s vision of the future - the one where everything is still on paper and stored in old fashioned filing cabinets, but put there by flimsy looking robot arms. One piece at a time. Slowly. A terrifying dystopian vision of a human replaced by machinery world, oh yes. Or oh no, depends which way you look at it.

2. Karen Wheeler & The Gents - Wait 'til I'm Sixteen
One for Fred, this. Don't tell the bloke to wait, Karen, tell him to stop hanging round the playground or you'll tell the police.

3. Chingon - Malagueña Salerosa
Best song in the world. As endorsed by his chingonic goodness, Superbean. And me. And the three chubby Mexicoans at the top of the post. With Bobby Bobdriguez on guitar. Sod the sPazAmp, I'm off to buy some cowboy boots and a sombrero. Not really (although I might have a peep on eBay).

4. System of a Down - Everytime
From the Toxicity II bootleg of the Toxicity sessions. Most of them turned up on Steal This Album in slightly better form and with different titles. I think this one became Nügüns. Why am I telling you? You couldn't care less. Bloody cementheads.

5. Brian Auger - Fool Killer
Bit harsh, Brian. I mean, they irritate me too but I don't go round murdering them to death. And if I did I certainly wouldn't do it in a jazzy Georgie Fame style.

6. Ian Dury - Plaistow Patricia
Abridged anecdote. Lou Reed, tour, support, annoying tossbag Lou, last night, Lou patronises his support on stage, Ian dedicates the following song to Lou by way of thanks, and then launches into the quite marvellous intro. "Arseholes, bastards, fucking cunts and pricks..."

7. The Mummies - Whitecaps pt. I
Whitecaps...waves as tall as MEN. I miss the Mummies. I wish they'd come back. Or hadn't gone away.

8. The Tamrons - Wild Man
Slightly above average garage punker from the 60s. Which means it appears on more or less every single collection or series of collections. Which, subsequently, means I am a little tired of it.

9. Palace Music - Tonight's Decision (and Hereafter)
He has a beard, you know.

10. Bad Karma Beckons - Big Boy Blues
Plenty of bands have had two drummers, but how many have two singers (that always sing the exact same things at the same time)? "If you wanna get a shock put your finger in my socket". Perverts.

11. GLC - Guns Don't Kill People, Rappers Do
Or "wappers", as P. Xain would have us believe.

12. The Squirrels - Betsy
Betsy the exploding cabbage patch doll came to me on my birthday, betsy the exploding cabbage patch doll was a present from the IRA. Betsy wanna hold you, Betsy wanna hug you, like a little teddy bear. One of my favourite birthday dollies went and put me in intensive care. Quite. It's the version from the Nardwuar compilation, so it's the rockin' garage reworking with the bits nicked from that "classic" rock/hair/metal song. I can't remember which. I bet Ian would know.

13. Tim Hardin - It'll Never Happen Again
Bet it will.

14. Screaming Trees - Look at You
I don't think it would be right for me sully such a glorious song with my inane babbling. So I won't.

15. Ghostface Killah - Marvel
Sup, Scary Rap Dude. With a hint of the RZA Scary Rap Dude, too. Bargain!

16. Nirvana - Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge On Seattle
Possibly my favourite off the album. Perhaps because it sounds like it should be on Bleach instead.

17. April March - Theme from Lime Cafe
Pleasant.

18. Sexton Ming & Billy Childish - Oma-Laka-Wee
Don't you know that I am boss - OMA LAKA WEE.

19. Fabienne Delsol - I'll Wait For You
Cheers love. I should be out in six to eight with good behaviour.

20. Chaka Demus & Pliers - Twist & Shout
I can think of few better ways to end a shuffle. I'm off to listen to this, "Tease Me" and Bitty McLean's "It's Raining" over and over until I collapse from exhaustion.

See you!

Strawberet Berry

2008-01-04T15:36:00.000-08:00

I really ought to dig the beret out again, it hasn't seen nearly enough wear recently. Not since the Frank Spencer Blues Explosion gig, tbh be honest. Anyway, enough of that nonsense, we have sPazAmp nonsense to attend to. And how!

I has a haircut. To celebrate this fact, I shall presently embark on a sPazAmp. I've dumped sPazTunes in favour of sPazAmp due to shuffling all my music over to the new HDD. However, as a result of this, there is only about a fifth or so of the music to choose from (20gb or so). Furthermore, as I tend to categorise along genre lines and have diligently been moving the files a folder at a time (and in order), the available selections are somewhat particular. In short, be prepared for a high probability of Nick Cave songs (seeing as he constitutes 1/20th of the available songs by size).

Christ that's a boring paragraph. I reckon as I'll start again.

I has a haircut. I'm doing a sPazAmp, there aren't a great variety of songs, deal with it, cementheads.

That's better.

1. 13th Floor Elevators - You're Gonna Miss Me
On a regular shuffle day, it would look like a fix having this first. However, given that one of the few folders I've moved in its entirety is 60s Garage and also given that this song appears in there about nine times, then it's less surprising. It's also still one of the finest songs in dom. I'll not be wittering about it now, I've put my more considered thoughts on the matter down elsewhere (very possibly repeatedly).

2. The Mono Men - Burning Bush
Perverted pyro-rapists.

3. Lula Cortes e Ze Ramalho - Maracas de Fogo
I know I've missed off many and assorted accents, but I'm a little too tired to care. Besides, it's a song about maracas made of airborne water droplets, and that's just silly (in a good way).

4. The Bambi Molesters - The Wedge
The finest Croatian twangsome surfmerchants in the whole wide world. And don't let anyone tell you any different.

5. The Squirrels - Seasons in the Sun
Most of the first half is gloriously off key, then it speeds up and manages to morph into The Hustle. What's not to love?

6. The Mummies - Whitecaps
Parts I and II joined together in a glorious feast of BudgetRock(tm) perfection. Rusty Spoon Music ((c) JamieC) par excellence.

7. Driving Stupid - Horror Asparagus Stories
Toad! Toad! A big old Toad! Road! Road! Middle thereof! Fucking wonderful, and I don't say that lightly.

8. Mad Violets - I Can Hear the Grass Grow
I don't care how good your song is, or how horribly underrated your 80s take on all things psychey with a girl singing was, the fact is that no, you can't. You just can't. It's impossible. Nobody has ears that clever.

9. Knights of the New Crusade - He Has Risen
My God is alive! Sorry about yours! Still magnificent, and I won't shut up about it until you are all Saved.

10. The Mono Men - Took That Thing
The first song I ever heard by The Mono Men (bought on impulse thanks to being on Estrus and having a Coop-like cover), still one of the finest songs my ears have ever fondled and recorded from my very own blue marble vinyl 7''. Which I've since had to sell. Not every story has a happy ending, bitch.

11. The Reatards - You Fucked Up My Dreams
Yeah, well you can't spell. So we're even.

12. Bango - Inferno No Mundo
One of the best songs I don't understand the words to. And that's a pretty fucking big category, let me tell you. Which I just did. Cheers!

13. The Monsters - Gozilla
Their go-go-garagetastic paean to their favourite simian-tinged web-browser.

14. Naz Nomad & The Nightmares - (Do You Know) I Know
Alright! HUH! Get outta my way! The only proper song on the album that isn't a cover, and it sounds more twisted 60s garage than the actual covers. I like it! (that last bit is also a lyric, not just an oddly excited exclamation from me).

15. Earls of Suave - Stranger in my Hometown
If songs were all limited to five seconds in length, then this would possibly be my favourite song ever. Unfortunately, the other one hundred and forty four seconds of the song aren't anywhere near as good.

16. The Third Bardo - Five Years Ahead of My Time
You weren't even five minutes ahead of your time, you average gimps.

17. The Sonics - Psycho
If you can think of a better song, then you are an earless cementhead. Or just possibly not in the mood for gloriously spasticated drumming.

18. Los Peyotes - Fuego!
Without doubt, this is the most impeccably crafted cover of an Arthur Brown song by an Argentinian garage band. And I don't say that lightly.

19. Zacherle - Happy Hallowe'en
Dude, it's so totally not hallowe'en anymore. I don't care how ace your voice is. Sweet.

20. The Fuzztones - D.O.A.
I love the Bloodstone original, but I possibly love this even more. As basic premises for songs go, the musings of a dying aircrash victim lying on a slab next to the corpse of his splattered girlfriend shouldn't really rate that highly. And yet, and yet. It's bollock-nibblingly fantastic. Rarely has a song suited Rudi's occasionally overblown voice so well, and rarely has a hammondy type organ been employed to such precisely affecting effect. Or something. I have little idea what I'm blarbling on about, but I do know that this is one of my favourite songs to wholeheartedly sing along with when I'm certain that no one is in earshot (i.e. in the house or in a five mile radius). Like the Earls of Suave song, it has you hooked more certainly than your own bodyweight in crack after five seconds (try it [the song, not the crack] and you'll see what I mean). Unlike the Earls of Suave song, it gets better and better from then on, with the opening bars merely serving as a taster for the rampantly overegged and resplendently entertaining melodrama to come. Or it might just be a middle-aged bloke with a stupid name covering songs in a style that went out of fashion twenty years before the rest of his band could string two words together. It really doesn't matter, and I care just a little bit less than that. I love it, and so should you. If you know what's good for you.

Yeah. Bye.

Oh, yeah, not bye. Hang on.

It's The Mummies, obviously. And it's wonderful. And so is JamieC for making me aware of it (he secretly loves them. And other rusty spoon music too). And for inventing the term "Rusty Spoon" music. And for sending me a beret. And rum. But I digress. Everyone should watch it, and marvel at how music should be enacted.

Really bye this time.

I LIED

2008-01-04T15:22:00.000-08:00

More sPazAmping from days of yore, to fill the aching void between one Superbean calendar instalment and the next. Enjoy, landlubbers.

I did a sPazTune last week. The internets etted it. I've been in mourning for a week, but now I'm BACK, bitch!

Yes, I'm back, and I'm back in a beret, courtesy of JamieC. I'm wearing it now. So far in the last five minutes I've pretended to be Frank Spencer, Ben Volpeliere-Pierrot (off of Curiosity Killed the Cat), a mediaevel bishop sort of thing, a man wearing a massive flat cap (possibly one of the Goodies during the black pudding thingy show), a Royal Marine, Wolfy/Citizen Smith and a generic French stereotype person. Possibly an onion seller. So very versatile, the beret. How I love my beret.

Don't believe that I'm wilfully sPazTuning whilst wearing a beret? What do you want, blood? Huh? HUH? What? Oh, proof? Oh, yeah, proof, that I can do. Here's me enjoying my beret in a variety of ways (two). Except they aren't here, they'll be at the end of the post, won't they. So look down there, and gaze in awe, wonder, appreciation and possibly mild disgust.

In the mean time ...

1. Bruce Springsteen - Independence Day
In which Bruce grunts, groans, strains and poos out from his previously constipated musical anus a grittily wrought fraught ballad about Will Smith saving the earth from alien menace with the help of a the president. Played by someone or other. Who cares, it was a stupid cocklicking film anyway. Unlike this song which isn't a) a film or b) in anyway cocklicking. Unless, of course, you happen to believe that "cocklicking" in this sense means really pretty fucking good. In that case, it IS cocklicking, and mightily thus. So cocklicking in fact that it is Bill Clinton's favourite [s]intern[/s] song. Or at least it was before he went all haggard, grey faced, thin and eighty-years-old looking. He's gone off it since then. He's gone off the song, too. Ha and, to a lesser extent, ha.

2. Daniel Johnston - Love Enchanted
In which Daniel starts out as if he is intent on impersonating Alex Harvey, of The Sensational Alex Harvey Band fame. It really is quite uncanny, for about twelve seconds. To anyone else, this would be bare and stripped back and other annoyingly cuntish terms employed by cuntish people writing about cuntish music. For Daniel, it's limb-severingly over-produced and cram-packed with sweeping and lush orchestrations. Twice then I mistyped "lush" as "lusch" which is both the German outlet of seaweed and poo masquerading as bath products and an affectionate French term for drunken German soldiers, as everyone knows. Obviously.

3. Boogie Down Productions - 9mm Goes Bang (Instrumental)
In which KRS-1 waxes lyrical about his tiny exploding cock. Curiously, it's an instrumental on which there is a lot of singing. In Christopher-1's world, "instrumental" means "with all the words except quite a lot of them, the chorus in particular, taken out".

4. Elvis Presley - It's Only Love
In which Elvis opines that "she had no recipe for love". No, but she had the recipe for a deep fried tiramisu, nutella, lard and aubergine pie sandwich with barbiturate sprinkles. Which is why you died lardily on the shitter, Elve me old chum. He died as he lived - mystified that something so inordinately huge had emerged from something so small. And also on the toilet.

5. Tom Jones - Weeping Annaleah
In which Tom makes up names for girls he wants to sing to. It's quite good, as is a lot of the stuff that doesn't ever make it onto the three hundred and four bazillion best ofs released each and every month of every year. Unfortunately, the arse-melting majority of public awareness of Tom is limited to a) the same twenty or so songs cycled through on the three hundred and four bazillion best ofs released each and every month of every year, b) the fact he is Welsh and c) made of orange leather. It really isn't fair.

6. Run DMC - They Call Us Run DMC
In which Run, DMC and (in a non vocal way) Jam Master Jay babble on for three wonderful minutes that "they" call "us" "Run" "DMC". Yes. Because it's your name. The name YOU chose for your band. That's why they call it you. What did you expect? That they were going to call you Stetsasonic? That's someone else's name, fools. You've made your Run DMC Name bed, you should be prepared to lie in it and pull up your Run DMC Name sheets up under your chins and sleep a peaceful snuggling sleep. Probably best not to include Jam Master Jay though, not since he got deaded. Ruin your sheets, that would.

7. Hal Blaine - Vibrations (August)
In which Hal Blaine (he's doing the drums, I think) makes up titles that bear no relation to the instrumental song that they are attached to and then tries to pass the hokey nonsense off as a concept album by putting a different month in brackets after each of them. He thinks it's psychedelic. He's wrong. It's twaddle, simple twaddle (although sporadically entertaining twaddle).

8. The Cramps - New Kind of Kick
In which Lux Interior makes the wild boast that he has found a new method of imbuing momentum in an object through the medium of his lower limbs. He also (with the aid of the rest of them) covers and improves someone else's song, as was his wont. And his will. And Nick Knox is still the best name for a drummer ever invented, and always will be. Until Sticky McHitter joins a band, of course.

9. Ministry - Burning Inside
In which Alien Jourgensen (you're fooling no one, Alain. You're from earth and we all know it) generously applauds the meritorious effects of the liberal imbibement of Gaviscon. Or possibly Preparation H. Or some mad anti-cystitis thing, perhaps. Although it's probably best not to imbibe the latter two. Topical application would be perhaps the order of the day. And he does it all in a live fashion, which is so much better than the studio version that it makes my feet ache just to mentally compare them. In Case You Didn't Feel Like Showing Up (Live) has been scientifically proven to be one of the best albums ever recorded to drive to. If you want to end up driving at 100mph+ with wild staring eyes, a demented rictus of loathing plastered across your chops and angrily hunched over your steering wheel exuding waves of contempt and disdain for your risible fellow motorists, that is. What a great album it is. I'm going to listen to it all after this sPazTuning episode.

10. Man ... or Astro Man? - The Man from F.U.C.K.Y.O.U.
In which Man ... or Astro Man? (it's Man, not Astro Man. You're no more from space that Alain is) spell out rude words because they're a right bunch of nonces.

11. The Pretty Things - London Town
In which The Pretty Things babble on some verbal turdage about some tiny rat-infested hamlet down south over some thoroughly average semi-folky, three-quarter jangly, entirely plodding "music". Not their high point, all things considered.

12. Phantom Surfers - Besame Mucho
In which the Phantom Surfers say they have a lot of Besames. In a twangly surfoid stroke mariachi orgy of guitar fondling instrumental ecstasy. Whatever the fuck that means. Who cares when the shit is this good. Whatever the fuck that means.

13. The Jailbirds - Snakeskin Suit
In which eighties Garageists (the proper kind of garage that is, not the other, new kind. Let's not have that whole thing again) The Jailbirds bang on about how great their new snakeskin suit is. Yeah, great. If you're very long, thin and have no limbs.

14. The Move - When Alice Comes Back to the Farm (Stereo Version)
In which The Move laugh at Roy Wood's facial hair and contemplate an impending rural bestial orgy. In stereo.

15. Southern Culture on the Skids - Galley Slave
In which SCotS lament (in a jaunty, entertaining and above all mostly instrumental fashion) the plight of a poor soul condemned to trail around room after room of paintings and explain them to disinterested tourists. And, to top it all off, to really rub big grains of spiky, poisonous salt into the poor chap's festering metaphorical wound, they miss an "r" out.

16. Boris - Dyno-Soar
In which Boris dedicate a slice of their soul-improving, brain-pickling, toe-polishing, massively-rocking and vastly-wonderfulling heavy rock side to their favourite prehistoric beast, the pterodactyl. Possibly. I haven't got a clue, really.

17. The Who - Mary Anne with the Shakey Hand (Alternate Version)
In which The Who assert that someone called Mary Anne does better wanks because she has Parkinson's. Earth to The Who - there's a reason why this is the alternate version. IT'S BECAUSE IT'S NOT AS GOOD AS THE OTHER ONE. If it was, it would've have probably been the actual version. Wankers. And how!

18. Offspring - Self Esteem
In which the Offspring reveal another of my closely guarded guilty pleasures to a world filled with spite and ridicule. To which I say "fuck off!" and shake an angry fist, angrily and with much anger. It also quite wonderfully skewers the very people who latched onto to it as some sort of anthem for their own oh-so-dreadful and pain-filled cossetted, pampered and generally over-privileged excuse for lives. You haven't felt real pain until your wealthy, professional parents have ripped your soul in two and removed all reason for your presence on the planet by not getting you the Saab convertible with the heated leather seats for your 17th birthday. Go an write something pseudo-meaningful about it on your schoolbag in tipp-ex. Then fuck off and get run over by a big massive truck with spikey wheels. Then get together with your friends and form Radiohead. I feel I have wandered off the subject somewhat. I've spanned the genres. They call me the genre-spanner [/boosh]. Anyway, I like it and I like it a lot. So there.

19. Isaac Hayes - Never Can Say Goodbye
In which Ike proves himself to be a massive liar in the very first line of the song. Stupid big scientologist.

20. Led Zeppelin - Immigrant Song
In which Robert Plant proves that wailing like a complete tart about some nonsensical vikings, ice, snow, hot springs and valhalla need not stand in the way of recording your second best song ever and one of the finest songs in the history of nonsensical tart-like valhalla wailing.

So there you have it. A lot of songs and me in a beret. I hope this one doesn't get etted by the internets. If it does, I may eschew sPazTuning forever more.

T'ra.

Yeah, so no pictures. Like the title says, I'm like Arnie in that film. I LIED.

Laminators at the Ready!

2007-12-31T12:55:00.000-08:00

Calendars - flavour of the month. Or rather twelve months, from January to December 2007. With perhaps six months either way if it's something of a posh calendar.

Anyway, Superbean's calendars have been the number one sellers in Aguadilla in each of the last 73 years (pre-dating native Puerto Rican calendars by a full five years) and are the subject of an annual exhibition in Old San Juan.

It's only fair that you get the latest version (with a recap of 2007). First up is last year's January, featuring Superbean (wrapped up warm for the winter weather) sat atop his favourite donkey Emilio (and also featuring Emilio's civil partner Bernardo and a Ricky Martin poster):

This year, Superbean decided to go all literary and historical. January 2008 features the beanial one's very own homage to the month that saw the discovery of Tutankhamen's tomb and first edition of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus.

Click for the full effect, this year Superbean's gone supersized. More soon!

You Are Not Legend

2007-12-28T12:31:00.000-08:00

I've watched some more films! This involved an ill advised jaunt through the film I Am Legend, but don't worry fans of enjoyable cinema - I also watched some good things as well. So, yes, ladies, gentlemen and animals I give you ... the films I have watched.

I Am Legend
No, you are NOT legend, William. Actually, that's a bit harsh on The Fresh Smith, I doubt it's all his fault *quick shufty at imdb* no, you are NOT legend Francis Lawrence (director of the turgidity), Mark Protosevich (co-writer and defiler of narrative) and Akiva Goldsman (co-writer and similar enemy of intelligence). Be warned - there will be a spoiling element to this unappreciative exploration of cinematic flaccidity. I won't be concealing it in any way, because if you cannot control your eyes or dare to skim read my lovingly crafted and remarkably informative entries on this receptacle of cranial wonder then, to be frank, you deserve to have it ruined for you. Thinking about it, it's more a case of doing you a favour than spoiling anything in this instance. I'd be saving you precious time, time you can spend on more productive and enjoyable pursuits than watching I Am Legend. Such as jamming your big toe in a dirty grid, or starting a swingers' circle with Michelle McManus and Ali Bongo.

The stupid, ignorant film entirely failed to engage, interest or excite at any point at all. But no! What of the trumpeted, vaunted and heralded eerie emptiness of Manhattan? Empty, certainly. Empty of just about everything, including point, purpose and ability to convince. Predictably feeling-free and devoid of soul or reality, as is generally the case when unconvincing and surprisingly obvious CG is relied on so heavily that it is squashed fatter than Mrs. Meatloaf on a thursday night. Christ, if you're going to make such a big deal about it, I would think that you should perhaps spend a little more time, effort (and probably money) on it and try to make it look a little less fake. The animals-at-loose-in-urban-America bit was done more convincingly in Twelve Monkeys and, in technology and hype terms, that may as well have been daubed on a cave wall in France by Les Neanderthales.

Poor The Will Prince. He doesn't do half bad, really. He plays his strong suit throughout - you know the one, the gruff, manly, soft at heart, friendly rugged-with-rounded-edges family man (the one he does in most films - and why not, he's bloody good at it) - and, when the film lets him, he impresses. Occasionally, he puts in a little turn that is genuinely classy, emotional and engaging - and then the film's overbearing leaden lumpenness drags him back into its morass of mediocrity. He should damn well fucking sue the film for turning an attempt at a career-defining performance into Tom Hanks Lite. And then he should be severely reprimanded for putting his name to the godforsaken attempt at a script in the first place.

But no! The creatures! The creatures! Surely, won't somebody think of the creatures?!? Okay. My thought is that they are shit on a very unappealing stick. Again, criminally obviously CG rendered, thus separating them from any vestige of reality, menace, or meaningful presence or existence. They are also one of the key representations of how the film gets matters so universe-threateningly, horrendously, motherfuckingly wrong. WRONG. WRONG WRONG WRONG. Three times in the forty years or so they've made this film, and this is the first one to get it so arse-shreddingly, tit-grindingly WRONG. WRONG.

W.R.O.N.G. with a capital everything.

Not Right. Incorrect. Premise-dissipatingly so. The book and, to differing degrees, the previous two incarnations (Omega Man with the noted gun nut Charlton Heston, and The Last Man on Earth with the noted thing of wonder and global treasure Vincent Price) all have a particular point to make, a point that is the whole point and indeed basis of the story. Y'know, like, the thing that makes the book and films exist. THE FUCKING POINT. The one missed by I Am Legend to a degree not seen since [insert thing that was expected to easily hit the target] missed by [insert largest distance imaginable by which one thing could miss another] and ended up hitting [insert thing that is the furthest conceivable distance from the intended target].

Here comes the spoiler bit [/l'oreal].

Bruce Willis was a ghost! Sorry, wrong spoiler. The creatures, see. An increasing intelligence is hinted at, but a greater emphasis is placed upon a growing menace to The Fresh Robert of Bel Neville. Crude, inhuman, vicious (increasingly so) - they remain steadfastly the enemy of humanity, the humanity that endures in Robert Neville and his mighty crusade to save it from itself. Their intelligence manifests itself in cruelty and brutality, not in society or co-operation - it becomes Jazzy Neville Vs. the Most Brutish Night Seeker. But, as I may have hinted at earlier, THAT IS NOT THE FUCKING BIG BASTARD SHAGGING POINT.

It's not about saving the world, see. It's not about finding a cure. It's about realisation. Big Bad Bob Neville's realisation that he's got it wrong. He's no longer trying to save civilization, mankind - he's now the outsider. He's the monster, and the "others" are the society, the civilization. He's their nemesis, boogeyman, thing of terror. He's destroying, rather than saving. He is, indeed, legend, anachronistically so. Not because he invents the cure and saves the fluffy puppies and children, but because he is legend to the "others", the sort of legend that comes when your children are asleep and kills your family. So, when the lady comes with the portentous ending voiceover declaring Robert Neville to be legend for giving his life to defend the cure, I wanted to re-engineer the measles virus and destroy the world. And laugh in a dastardly way whilst I did, inflicting it first upon those responsible for the narrative mutilation. A thought-provoking, bleak yet moving, interesting and gripping theme is reinvented as Independence Day with an ickle dog. Actually, that's mean to Independence Day - that manages to cloak some nice satire in a publicly appealing gung-ho, GO USA set of threads. This is more the Littlest Hobo without the moral, excitement, or natty theme tune. It is patronising to children and pretends to appeal to grown-ups. Vincent Price and a bunch of Italian film-making dudes got a lot closer to the mark, and even the noted rifle-fondler extraordinaire Charlton Heston managed a lot better. I won't even mention the fantastically gaping plot holes.

SO FUCKING WRONG IT RUINED MY BRAIN.

Thus ends the spoiling bits.

There's Nothing Out There
Infinitely more enjoyable than I Am Legend, as is having shingles of the eyes. Fun, knowing, witty and articulate homage to horror film cliches. With tits. Lots of them. Scream before Wes Craven had the idea of ripping it off and making Scream. Piss off Wes Craven. Amusingly post-modern without taking itself seriously (which seems to be the odd hallmark of self-professed post-modern cultural items), a fun film, and cruelly overlooked when it comes to the appreciation of eighties horror - perhaps because it was released in 1990, but you get the idea. Night of the Creeps gets all the plaudits in the convention-toying stakes and this gets ignored. Night of the Creeps certainly deserves the plaudits, but it really should share them with There's Nothing Out There. Stupid, selfish films.

Monster Club
One of those portmanteau films, which means you can watch it and also keep all your papers and pens and things in it. I first saw this when I was ten. I wasn't ready for such things and it terrified me senseless (well, the last story in it did). I haven't watched it since and only now do I feel ready to face the fear that made me sleep entirely under the covers with pyjamas and a dressing gown on with the window closed in summer. Why I thought that would help, I cannot remember. It has Vincent Price! Donald Pleasance! John Carradine! Geoffrey Bayldon! Lesley Dunlop! B.A. Robertson! It's directed by Roy Ward Baker - a stamp of a certain quality to a certain type of person. Well, it turns out that the last story still unsettles me a little. Not like it did all that time ago, of course. That would be faintly ridiculous. But a little. Poor woman out of May to December. And, as much as the first story is a solid little traditional vignette, I think I may have ruined it for myself by getting it into my head that the whistling Shadmock looks quite a lot like Roger Lloyd-Pack. Ah well. Quality (of a certain, particular kind) throughout, with added Vincent Price-ness.

Creepshow 2
Another collection of vignettes, one that I prefer to the first in the series. Not much to choose between them really, but they both edge out Tales From the Crypt without a hint of a doubt. Fun with the obligatory Stephen King cameo (he plays a stupid trucker. No, that isn't a typo). Creaky, slow-moving Red Wooden Indian Death! Killer oil slick that looks suspiciously like a tarpaulin with twigs on! The hitchhiker that will not die! Some tits! Directed by George A. Romero! It's alright, I guess!

Deathproof
Shitproof. Except it isn't, and a load of shit seeped in, especially in the excruciatingly dire second half. Blow it out of your arse, Tarantino, and don't return until you've finish, wiped your bum and realised what a terrible error of film making you have made.

Planet Terror
WHOA THERE! Much, much, much, much better than its much more lauded neighbour in the Grindhouse. Both films are loving in their attention to the detail of their sources, the difference is that Lord Bobert of Bobdrigues turns his into a fun, camp, gory barrel of excited laughmonkeys and Quentin makes a big puddle of self-indulgent cinematic wank (Kurt Russell is excused, he's quite marvelous for most of it , especially in the first half).

So there you have it. It would have been a lengthier list (watched half of Atonement, for example - promising so far), but I've been distracted by the arrival of a collection of "This is Tom Jones" shows from the end of the sixties. Well, they were actually from Amazon (they didn't arrive in a time machine), but you get my drift. As the actress said to the snowman. Or perhaps it was the other way round. Also I can't shake the nagging feeling that I've forgotten some. If I have, then it is probably with good reason.

Hasta la next time cinema cementheads.

It's been a long time, been a long lonely lonely lonely time

2007-12-25T05:55:00.000-08:00

It hasn't really, it's been about ten minutes. I was just listening to Rock'n'Roll by Led Zeppelin whilst preparing the shuffle and I couldn't resist. I blame Mr. Bangtango the sPazAmper. He sent me a message with that as a title and it started the short and not really all that convoluted series of events that led to me using it as a post title. VALHALLA I AM COMING. It's Immigrant Song, now. Obv.

The sound of Christmas Day in the shufflehouse, '06 style dudes.

In your massively wrinkled faces, you cockney spacksicians. I thought it was only fair. Y'know, balance and all that.

I should have better things to do. I don't. Deal with it, cementheads.

1. Jethro Tull - Locomotive Breath
I sort of know what he's getting at, but it still doesn't stop the mental image of the subject of the song going "choo choo!" everytime they open their mouth. Doesn't detract from the grandness of the song, mind.

2. Big Black - Precious Thing
A song all about Steve Albinoid's love for all things Kinder Egg. His favourites were the Crazy Crocos. He cried for a week they when discontinued them before he completed his set, and now he spends endless hours diligently scouring ebay in the forlorn and desperate hope that the schoolteacher croco and the BMX croco will turn up. This is far more interesting than the actual song.

3. Afghan Whigs - Come See About Me
Better than the original, and anyone who says otherwise is deaf. They should have been roundly worshipped as titanic musical gods. Instead, you mostly ignored them and they went away. Now that stupid bint off of television's the X-filesFactor is number 1. You get what you deserve, you swines.

4. Amon Düül II - Cerberus
Twingly twangly pseudo-eastern guff about a mutant dog. I'm reasonably sure I can hear a bongo or nine in the first half. Picks up dramatically towards the end (after the bongo pisses off. Coincidence? I think NOT). First half is shit, second half is more like the usual standard. Still guff about a freakdog, though.

5. David Bowie - Rock'n'Roll Suicide
I loved this song when I was about 15. I thought it was dead clever and stuff. I later recognised it as a big pile of self-indulgent pseudo-arty pile of massive wankery. Bowie, however, was distinctly older than 15 when he wrote and recorded it. The cock end. Straight out of the draw marked "future Radiohead lyrics / third rate A-Level poetry". Also, it took him a remarkably short amount of time to start sounding like a cruel and ridiculous parody of himself. And his wife looks like a man. And he smells. Of poo. Ner.

6. Inspiral Carpets - Paper Moon
Well that's just ridiculous. The sun would set it on fire every eclipse time. More enjoyable than the last song. As is having shingles.

7. The Wombles - Remember You're a Womble
It'd be hard to forget, what with all the fur, and the giant snout, the bad clothes and the irresistible urge to collect shit you find on the floor. Also better than Bowie.

8. t'Sweet - Wig Wam Bam
Wild Native American sex in a tent. Sung by rough Scottish blokes mostly dressed as very odd women. It's what the baby Jesus invented music for. Eighteen times better than Bowie.

9. Aguaturbia - Hermoso Domingo
Cheerily winsome early seventies sunny pop recorded in a tin of beans. By foreign mentals. No idea who or what Hermoso Domingo is, though.

10. GLC - GLC Will Bang in Your Face
Filth.

11. James Brown - Say it Loud (I'm Black and I'm Proud)
I'M BLACK AND I'M PROUD. Is that loud enough? Only I'm not black, see. Hope that won't prove to be a problem Jim, you massive gun-toting, wife-punching squanderer of talent. With stupid hair.

12. Thrones - A Quick One
Yes, it is a cover, and a bastard fucking fine one too. Plus I have my bastard fucking fine Thrones t-shirt on, so huzzahs all round.

13. The Smiths - I Know It's Over
I wish I could say the same. Still five bloody minutes of it left. Oddly, I like this on Rank and always have, whereas I have always found it to be painfully dreary on The Queen is Dead (the version that is currently besieging my ears like a horde of apathetic and feeble bee-stings). I am contemplating going voluntarily deaf.

14. Mansun - Wide Open Space
One of three reasons to love Mansun. Feel free to choose your own choices for the other two. Unfortunately, they released about thirty other reasons to hate them.

15. Chas'n'Dave - The Sideboard Song
Everyone who has recorded a song since this should be ashamed of themselves. David Bowie dreams of being this good. It is a forlorn and hopeless dream, though. I don't care, I don't care, I don't care if he comes round here. I got my beer in the sideboard here, let Mother sort him out if he comes round here. Wise words, words we would all do well to heed.

16. The Cramps - Swing the Big-Eyed Rabbit
No. Bloody filthmongers.

17. Neil Diamond - Oh Mary
If I was around about sixty, had been out of fashion for a while and Rick Rubin rang me up and asked if he could record an album for me, I'd check the levels of my life insurance. And, if Neil and Johnny are anything to go by, I'd release some cracking songs whilst I waited for death's icy finger. I've just realised that I've made it sound like Neil Diamond is dead. He isn't. Yet.

18. South Park Children's Choir - Dead, Dead, Dead
All Christmas songs should be this happy and cheery. And so on Christmas morning let good tidings fill your head, what a festive season, someday you'll be dead.

19. The Independents - C is for Cookie
It's only a minute and a half long, it's a cover of a Sesame Street song and, if you take away the actual Cookie Monster sample at the start it only uses nine different words, but I love it. A tiny, perfectly formed thing of beauty.

20. Jethro Tull - Christmas Song
Sound contrived? What with it being Christmas and the sPazTune beginning and ending with two immensely wonderful Jethro Tull songs? Well, it is. Sort of. I would have finished this about two hours ago, but I got distracted by a vintage Times crossword from 1936. On Christmas Eve. At this time of the morning. I know! You wish you had my life, bitch.

Happy Babyjesusmas.

Christmastime, Mistletoe and Gin

2007-12-25T05:36:00.000-08:00

Only kidding. I'm not that keen on gin. It'll be whisky, rum and/or red wine. And Cliff Richard can fuck right off, the musical sadist. Anyway, it's Christmas! And to celebrate the fact that I have an hour to kill before I can put the roast potatoes and parsnips on, I thought I'd slip in a quick shuffle. This was the shuffletastic musical sounds of the eve of Christmas eve last year. Superbean makes an appearance (one that makes sense now that he's been introduced most thoroughly).

In your face, you bindipping musitards.

You don't deserve one anymore than you deserve any presents, but here's a festive sPazTune. Well, it'll be festive if you eat a mince pie whilst frittering away valuable time reading it, or something. I'm not going to be otherwise theming it in any way. What do you think it is, bloody Christmas?

1. Jimmy Eat World - Sweetness
God alone knows why I own this. Well, God and me, but I'm not telling. So go ask God, see what he has to say for himself, the big bearded tit.

2. Pink Floyd - Vera
Anyone got any Veras? Pink Floyd have? Laahhhvvveeellly.

3. King Khan & His Shrines - Take a Trip
Brass-tastic. Garagelounge-derful. Also reasonably average. Better than the Dirtbombs songs it was split with, though.

4. Monster Magnet - Tractor
From the first EP, when Dave Wyndorf couldn't sing particularly well. Possibly about his favourite Massey Ferguson. Which I think is a type of tractor, although it might well be a typewriter.

5. Ian Dury & the Blockheads - Heavy Living
It shouldn't have taken Ian so long to realise how much he needed Chas and the rest. But particularly Chas. Also, he should have banned his son from singing and given him a better name, but that's nothing to do with this particular song.

6. We the People - Mirror of Your Mind
That doesn't make any sense, you run of the mill garage mongs.

7. Wu Tang Clan - Uzi (Pinky Ring)
Had this very song before, I think. I don't care. It's fucking Scary Fucking Rap Fucking Dude-tastically wonfuckingunderful. Pinky ring sounds rude.

8. The Who - Shakin' All Over / Spoonful / Twist & Shout (Live at the IOW)
A fun medley for when they had temporarily run out of their own songs and fancied titting about for a bit. Fun, yes. Tremendous, no.

9. Vibracathedral Orchestra - Jubilee
Much better than whatever pap you're listening to (with certain exemptions. You know who you are).

10. Beat Happening - That Girl
Which girl? That girl? Where on the stair? Right there! Possibly wearing clogs, we won't know for sure until we get the tests back.

11. T'Sweet - Ballroom Blitz
Ready Steve? Andy? Mick? No? Alright, I'll hang on a tick. How about now? Alright then! Etc, etc. t'bloody t'brilliant.

12. Creeping Nobodies - Cold Hands
Ta, Joe.

13. Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet - Bang Bang
One of my favourite songs, in a wonderfully wildy and twangy mariachi superstyle. Whatever that means. HEY!

14. Edgar Broughton Band - Officer Dan
Sounds a bit like the Steptoe and Son theme tune. Then it changes in the middle, before changing back.

15. The Prisoners - For Now and Forever
It's The Prisoners. What more convincing do you bloody well need, cementhead?

16. Ultravox - Passing Strangers
Sounds painful. Not the song, the concept of trying to pass a stranger.

17. Vic Godard & the Subway Sect - Stool Pigeon
The only way this could be any better is if it were a Kid Creole cover version.

18. EPMD - DJ K La Boss
The DJ was not the highlight of EPMD. This song shows why.

19. Chris Farlowe - Looking For You
I'm over here!

20. Billy Ocean - Red Light Spells Danger
The eternal debt owed by B&S to The Ocean. YES. "Dog on Wheels" is almost identical to "Caribbean Queen". Only joking. HOWEVER. And yes, the capitals are entirely justified. As even a cementhead like you realises, the crown jewel of the Billy Ocean back catalogue is "Red Light Spells Danger" (Rupert the Bear suit wearing on TOTP whilst singing "Love Really Hurts Without You" notwithstanding). How miffed must Billy have been to have realised that B&S decided to cover it, only to call it "Sleep the Clock Around", change all the lyrics and, just to rub salt into the gaping musical wound, not credit him (and also take out all the good bits)!

Not very much, is the answer. I doubt he has noticed - he's Billy Ocean, for fuck's sakes, he's probably too busy eating crumpets with Lionel "stop adopting crackass hoes" Richie to give a flying fig, fuck or toss. Either way, Billy Ocean >>>> B&S. And yes, I have used large parts of this part of the post before. It isn't plagiarism if it's your own stuff, just tedious repetitiveness (depending on your point of view). One of the finest songs in all of the whole wide world and if you don't think so, well, you should have your license to own ears revoked. Immediately.

I often ask myself "why do I bother". I often follow this up with the answer "I have quite literally no idea". Enjoy your musitard Christmasses, cementheads.

Mecha-Jesus and the Beansy Music

2007-12-01T16:39:00.000-08:00

Whilst it has long been acknowledged by the inhabitants of this planet that are in possession of both a brain and functioning ears that Roxy Music have been responsible for some of the finest collections of cleverly arranged noises ever to be labelled music, it is less generally realised that Superbean wrote all the b-sides for the first six years.

Mecha-Jesus. I've seen him, Superbean's seen him, and we're both going to hell.

El baa.

Marqués del Haba Estupenda and Don Pedro del Ultrahaba

2007-12-01T16:25:00.000-08:00

Superbean has had enough. Beans shouldn't be scared of their government, the governments should be scared of their beans.

The Marqués del Haba Estupenda and Don Pedro del Ultrahaba make plans to retake the New World.

El Haba Estupenda says in your FACE, Dan Brown.

Ricky Martin does his world famous "I'm the Hulk" dance in honour of Al Pacino's fruitcat safari (long story). El Haba de Estupenda and Ultra Haba join in.

Beanissey, Lenin and Ultrabean Marr celebrate a birthday (another long story).

Fully rested following his communist birthday exploits (see the aforementioned long story), Superbean makes a requested return. In the words of Alan Partridge, ¡Parque Jurásico!

During Resident Beanvil: Apocalypse, Superbean finally snaps due to the frankly dismal Sienna Guillory's inability to stand up straight (throughout the WHOLE BASTARD FILM), and bites her legs off.

Juepatastic.

Ultrabean the Loserbean and The Miami Bint Machine

2007-12-01T16:17:00.001-08:00

Superbean has a close and good friend - Ultrabean. A simple introduction, he returns anon.

Superbean expresses his disapproval of Gloria Estefan. The troops agree.

Superbean sings whilst washing some apples. Ultrabean looks on adoringly.

Superbean re-recorded Ricky Martin's seminal crossover hit Maria, lovingly dedicating it to his favourite Sunset Beach character, the back from the dead and not really drowned Maria Evans-Torres - beloved of Ben and bane of Meg Cummings life.

Bless.

The Bean Rider

2007-12-01T16:12:00.000-08:00

As with so many others, an abortive television career followed an abortive movie career (some do it the other way round, so have a try at an abortive music career. It doesn't really matter so long as the key part - "abortive" - is adhered to).

Here's some of the early promotional material for his mooted role as Michael Knights robotic bean assistant in Knightrider.

It didn't really work and it was decided that the car alone was enough. Similarly unsuccesful was Superbean's role as the fifth A-Team member. He was to be the squad's "Bean Man", the go to guy for all those situations of a Beanial nature, situations that Superbean would deal with using the skills he learnt in deepest, darkest 'Nam.

The producers soon realised this was a stupid idea, not least because Superbean fitted into Hannibal's pocket, as illustrated.

By now desperate, Superbean teamed up with his good friend Simon MacCorkindale (star of very little indeed, although he was a doctor on Casualty. Or it might have been Holby City. Like it makes a difference) to pitch their idea for a series called "Beanimal", where a crime-fighting Bean (played by Superbean) had the power to turn into various animals (one of them being a Simon MacCorkindale).

Sadly, this proved as unsuccessful as all the others. The producers liked the idea of the show, just not the bean element. The title was changed to "Manimal" and the rest is history. Superbean was initially downgraded to the role initial planned for MacCorkindale, but even these episodes were eventually canned (mainly due to the difficulty the writers had in dreaming up situations where Simon turning into a small, inanimate bean with eyes would be in any way helpful). The episode where he turned into a large stoat was also, sadly, binned.

Superbeans Don't Lie

2007-12-01T16:05:00.000-08:00

Although Ricky (and all things Ricky) are Superbeans Latin music of choice, he does occasionally dabble with other artists of a similar flavour. As this snap of his momentous meeting with Shakira shows.

It wasn't all just Ricky Martin mania, however. There was also Superbean's burgeoning film career to consider. He got his initial break understudying many of Michael Caine's film roles (which is noteworthy not least because it was nearly two decades before he grew up in 80s Puerto Rico. And also because he was a bean).

Truly, his versatility knew no bounds. Well, apart from those derived from being an inanimate bean with eyes.

Juepa!

2007-12-01T16:00:00.000-08:00

Naturally, Superbean is a HUGE Ricky Martin fan (being born and raised in Puerto Rico in the 80s it was hard for a young Superbean to avoid falling deeply in love with the enormously seductive teen latin tones of Menudo. We've all done it at some point in our lives).

Here's one of his most treasured memories (by "his" I mean Superbean, although I'm pretty sure it ranks highly for Ricky, too). The moment he met his idol.

I've not checked precisely, but I think my gayness increased by 6% whilst finding a suitable picture of Ricky Martin. I blame the general tone of Ricky's publicity photos. Oh, I've also developed a yearning to wear speedos

The Merry Friends of Manuel

2007-12-01T15:31:00.000-08:00

Before we get stuck into the Annals of Superbean (hurr, annals), it's worth spending a little time filling in the MSPaint doodling blanks. Never in the history of human communication has the word "worth" been more severely misued.

This is Manuel. He is a curious skull/mushroom hybrid and he lives in Rod Hull's graveyard. He's so ace that I'm going to get a tattoo of him.

Manuel has friends, of course. This is Esteban the permanently shocked ghost tadpole with a skull head, sponsored by Nike. He lives in Manuel's head. I'm also getting an Esteban tattoo.

This is a skull on a stick. It was briefly Manuel's friend until it drove him insane with its incessant prattling about being a former Scooby Doo villain and the voices in his head (namely Esteban) told him to put it in the bin, which he duly did. It doesn't have a name, it's a skull on a stick. And I'm not getting a tattoo of it for the same reason.

This is Horace the Hydroalien. Manuel can't stand him, and he lives in a Vietnamese prison. In space.

TBC continued. LOL out loud.

The Injustice League of Spazmerica

2007-12-01T14:56:00.000-08:00

I was very bored one day. So bored, in fact, that I indulged my passion for MSPaint art. I say passion, I'd not really ever done it before. But passion sounded good. Shove that in your crackpipe and smoke it, cementcranium.

Anyway, the fruits of that particular endeavour were mixed, to say the least. Some went on to greater fame and fortune than others, as we will doubtless see in future tedious episodes of this electronic exercise in excrement. First out of the metaphorical pen was George, the five limbed Octopus, which makes him a Pentapus. So George the Pentapus, then. He looks mildly perturbed. As would you, were deficient in the limb department to the tune of three.

Next came George, an alien from the planet Retardo. Names are not my forte, okay? Here he is looking resplendent in his orange Adidas spacesuit.

Thirdly we have Harry. Harry is also an alien, a Mekon to be exact, and he has a penchant for bigly collared shirts, thick rimmed glasses, and narrating programmes about hilarious home video blunders.

Sadly, these beauteous creations remained one offs. Any further adventures and exploits they have undoubtedly had remain mournfully unrecorded. The same goes for most of the following. Most, but not all. Here we have the most feeble and pointless assemblage of "super"heroes this side of Superman and his retarded attempt at an everyday disguise and perverted obsession with showing the world his undercrackers. The Injustice League of Spazmerica.

WonderWormMan:

Dastardly Dyson:

Agoraphobic SnailMan:

TortoiseBoy:

The Neon Chameleon:

Super Bean:

Now personally, I found Agoraphobic SnailMan and The Neon Chameleon to be of particular note. A terrified and immobile Gastropod and a reptile whose only talent would be to seamlessly blend in with an 80s music video. However, the wider public singled out another for adulation, adoration, and accolade. That lucky legume was none other than El Haba Estupenda himself - Super Bean. Just you wait and see.

I'm invisible!

2007-11-30T14:48:00.001-08:00

A picture of an invisible cat, I think. I can't see it myself.

Hurrrrrrrrrrr.

Don't shatter his illusions, poor thing. Time will do that soon enough. Or maybe it won't, on account of it being a cat and all. Highly unlikely that it has a firm understanding of the concept of relative visibility, when you think about it. Which I'm not doing, because it would be a waste of my brain resources.

Whereas this bizarre exercise in sPazTuning isn't a waste of my brain resources? It's all relative, I suppose. Like my Gran.

1. LL Cool J - Dangerous
I've seen Deep Blue Sea. You're about as dangerous as a zombie gerbil, James. Although he wasn't always musically useless, as this shows. Really don't think it needs to be six bloody minutes long, mind.

2. Tom Jones - I'm Coming Home
Best get the kettle on for the leathery old so and so then.

3. DJ Format - I'm Good (feat. Abdominal)
Sounds like all the other DJ Format songs featuring Abdominal. That is, pleasant, professional and thoroughly unexciting. If I owned a bar and wanted to attract wankers, I'd play this at a reasonable volume. I'd also hike the prices of the drinks and hire ignorant and vacant bar staff that were 86% haircut. Not to mention stuffing the available space with a completely annoying arrangement of mismatched sofas that look comfy but in reality try to eat you from the arse upwards, so that when you actually sit in them properly, you can't actually talk to anyone because you've reclined to such a degree that you are practically prone. Then I'd shoot myself in the eyes with a bleach gun. And then a real one (provided I could still find it without my eyes).

4. Elvis Presley - Teddy Bear
Pervert.

5. Northside - My Rising Star
Bunch of wankers.

6. Nirvana - Rape Me
No, because that would be illegal and necrophilia. Which is also illegal. So it would be doubly illegal, so doubly no. Pervert.

7. Bryan Ferry - Hold On (I'm Coming)
Pervert.

8. Tony Christie - I Did What I Did for Maria
If it really is the last day that you'll ever see, Tony, why are you wasting it writing and recording a song about the whole thing? Serves you right, you massive vigilante.

9. Gas Huffer - Mole
The best song about a mole ever. And also the best song ever recorded by Gas Huffer, edging out Firebug by the width of a gnat's chuff.

10. The Temptations - You're My Everything
What, even your toilet paper? Your discarded old underwear? Your empty bean tins for recycling? Are you sure you mean everything?

11. Ray Charles - Hallelujah I Love Her So
Yeah, but you can't see her, can you.

12. The Specials - Monkey Man
Racists.

13. Os Brasas - Pancho Lopez
It's Davey Crockett. In Brazilian. With Pancho Lopez in place of Davey Crockett. Panchooo, Pancho Lopez, el kingio dello wildo frontierio.

14. The Who - Tommy Can You Hear Me?
No, he can't. He's deaf. You should know, you bloody well invented him.

15. Monster Magnet - The Game
Approximately four thousand times more appealing than a song called Monster Magnet by The Game would be.

16. Graham Bonnett - Night Games
Should be about nocturnal chess, is actually about clandestine perverts.

17. PP Arnold - The First Cut is the Deepest
Hurr, she's named after a willy. Also, what a load of nonsense. What if you're attacked by a mad axe wielding psycho with a rubbish aim? The first go might only nick your arm, then they might follow it up by cleaving your head in two, which is quite definitely the deeper of the two cuts. Tsk. Hurr, pee pee. She's friends with Mick Talbot, which makes her a stupid cow.

18. The Rockin' Ramrods - She Lied
The bitch. If it happens to her I hope she'll cry, too. How could she? Mind you, they don't specify quite what she lied about. She might just have claimed there was still milk in the fridge when there wasn't. Hardly worth writing a song about. The wankers.

19. Afghan Whigs - Here Comes Jesus
Christ, better set another place at the table then. Bloody freeloader. It’s all go tonight.

20. Helios Creed - Bend Over
No. Pervert.

There.

Bye.

Don't Look Now!

2007-11-30T14:42:00.000-08:00

Either one cat covering another cat's eyes, or some kind of perverted feline recreation of something to do with Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland. Or perhaps Tony Christie and Donald Pleasance. Ew. I feel a bit sick.

Sage advice. But, if you insist on ignoring it, then be prepared for a load of old waffle and numerous musical oddities. Because that's what I do. And, even if I do say so myself, I do it bloody sodding well. So don't say that you haven't been warned (unless of course you find yourself in a situation where you might have expected to have been warned, but hadn't. You can say it then, if you like, although I doubt whining would help).

1. The Hush Puppies - Hey, Stop Messin' Around!
Ahhh, singing shoes.

2. Nation of Ulysses - NOU Future Vision Hypothesi
Nation of Ulysses, Ulyssee-ee-ees, soaring through all the galaxies. In search of Earth, flying into the night. Nation of Ulysses, Ulyssee-ee-ees, fighting evil and tyranny, with all their heart, and with all of their might. Nation of Ulyssee-eee-eee-eee-eess, no one else can do the things they do.

3. The Dukes of the Stratosphear - Your Gold Dress
Out of all of them, I think this is the one that sounds most like an [I]actual[/I] late 60s floyd-influenced band rather than an affectionate and accurate tribute. Well, apart from the jingly jangly bit, that bit is just a little too well produced, a touch too shiny. They fall into the category of songs that I enjoy and like, but that mean absolutely sod all to me. If that makes any sense.

4. Sam & Dave - Soul Man
A moving ballad about having to smear your face in shoeshine in order to get into an American college. Christ I hate that film. Couldn't ruin the song for me though - being horrendously overplayed at the expense of other just as deserving Sam & Dave songs did that.

5. Melvins - Influence of Atmosphere
Makes a 1.52s song sound like a grindtastic epic. That's how good Melvins are.

6. Ghostface Killah - The Grain (feat. RZA)
I like Ghostface, but he's unfortunately way down the list on the Wu solo efforts, far behind the first efforts from U-God, GZA, Raekwon, ODB and Meth. Still, no great shame, being behind five of my favourite albums. Plus, he's ahead of Redman, which I am sure is a source of endless comfort to him.

7. The Cramps - Can't Find My Mind
It's in your head. Or maybe not, seeing as it's Lux.

8. The Deadly Snakes - A Bird in the Hand (is worthless)
He probably thinks he sounds like Stephin Merritt. He actually really sounds like Neil Diamond. This is not a bad thing.

9. Mark Lanegan - One Way Street
I'm reasonably sure that I've had this one on a bout of sPazTuning before. Still, I'm not complaining - if it's good enough for my signature, it should be good enough to make you all rush out and buy everything Mark Lanegan has ever made, ever. So go on, do it. GO ON! QUICKLY!

10. Girl Trouble - Kissin' Cousins
Girl Trouble + Elvis Movie Song = Fan-fucking-tastic.

11. Sun Ra & The Blues Project - Batman Theme
It's the Batman theme, done by Sun Ra. What more could you bastard well want from life?

12. System of a Down - Chic'n'Stu
It's about a pizza pie or something. And it's cocking wonderful. I still want the beard. And I'm still not allowed, apparently (although the revelation that I want the original beard, and not the more recent version that looks like Rameses II on Civilization has mellowed things somewhat. Although I'm still quite aware of not being Armenian, Andyroo).

13. Belle & Sebastian - Wrapped Up in Books
You know that a band has entered the "pointless" category when they start simultaneously ripping off Cliff Bloody Richard and themselves. Shocking. And not in a good way. My poor ears. It's not without agreeable parts, but they just leave you thinking "well, I could get that from this song, or that song, songs that do the exact same thing - only better, and without Out in the Bastarding Country as the chorus". Maybe not thinking precisely that, but something similar.

14. Barbara Acklin - To Sir With Love
As fine a slice of Brunswick soul as this undoubtedly is (and as much as it pisses all over the original), and as beatiful as the song may be, you have to hope that she eventually got the police involved. It's just not right, teachers doing that sort of thing.

15. Terrorvision - Alice, What's The Matter?
Well? Alice? Come on, spill the beans. They've been asking you for years now. Miserable cow. Hardly deserving of such a bloody good song, if you ask me.

16. Shiratori Maika - Drive
One that definitely falls into the "slavishly faithful" category of cover versions. Well, as slavishly faithful as a Japanese woman can get to a bald nutter with a blue stripe round his head. Very pretty (the song, not the woman or bald nutter. Although I'm sure they are both very comely in their own individual ways).

17. Tony Christie - Las Vegas
"Hey Las Vegas, can nothing save us from you" poor man, clearly has a gambling problem. "Night after night, watching the wheel go round" he's in deep, the urge to throw good money after bad dragging the poor fellow and his addiction deeper and deeper in. "Hey Las Vegas, the Devil gave us to you" see? He feels utterly helpless and at the mercy of his demons. "One of these days, I'm gonna burn you down" ARSON IS NEVER THE ANSWER TONY. One of his five great songs, the rest are dismal shite.

18. Nina Simone - See Line Woman
Still sounds like a man.

19. Rammstein - Rein Raus
Gets me everytime. The intro sounds like Wild Thing by Tone Loc. Dead ringer for it, it is. Or maybe Wild Thing crossed with Funky Cold Medina (which is a bit like crossing the one song with itself, but still). Anyway, it's not like I'm disappointed. How could you be disappointed by Rammstein? Well, perhaps you could if you could understand the lyrics, I dunno, mainly because I can't. But I doubt it. Fantastically blustery overblown and monstrously entertaining theatrical nonsense. Wonderful.

20. Mudhoney - You Stupid Asshole
Both an unutterably fine song, and a fitting comment on the end of the endeavour - both you for reading it (whoever you are) and me for bothering. Juepa!

T'ra.

Something about Superman

2007-11-30T14:33:00.001-08:00

I think they wanted to kill him or something. I hope so, Superman is really shit. I mean, what kind of a cocking disguise is that meant to be? A vaguely different hairstyle and some glasses? Fooling no one, you lycra-clad r-tard.

Seeing as my reminiscing over the plight of Barry and Keith Wiper somewhat ruined the last one, I'm back once again (yes, like the renegade master. So better hide those D4s, else I'll only be damaging them) with another to amaze, bore, mystify and/or generally leave utterly cold. You just don't know how lucky you are. Because you’re a bit thick, innit.

1. Dead Kennedys - California Über Alles
I spent most of the song searching for the umlauted u, sorry. The first, but not the best, attempt they made at the song. My favourite is "We've Got a Bigger Problem Now" from the In God We Trust Inc. ep (with the grand quietly jazzy bits inbetween the noisy bits), although the recent live version about Arnie that Jello did with the Melvins is pretty darn fine, too.

2. Iron Maiden - Quest For Fire
Endearingly rubbish. Bruce's high notes make me feel vaguely embarrassed on his behalf. It's about man searching for fire in a land inhabited by enormous dinosaurs. Bruce, Steve, Ed, the other one - THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN. They didn't read about it in the Caveman Metro and then set off wandering the countryside looking for it, dodging Stegosaurs and the like. Still miles better than anything off Seventh Son, mind.

3. The Wipers - Over the Edge
Despite all their personal troubles, I love The Wipers. And this is a good example of why you should, too. Your favourite band depended on them. Unless your favourite band is The Proclaimers. Or Journey South.

4. The Damned - Looking at You
A cover that manages to be about forty three and a half times better than the original (MC5). Was a bit tedious live, though, mainly as they used it as an excuse for Dave Vanian to have a rest. He'd toddle off for the middle bit whilst Rat and Captain Sensible showed off for a bit. You'd see him wandering around behind the stage, doing a crossword and drinking ribena. A luxury not afforded to us, the audience, unfortunately. We all had to take our chances at the bar, which was obviously rammed by that point because everyone new that was the time to go to the bar. They may as well have had an official intermission or something, because no one stayed to watch Rat wanking over his bloody drums. What a dreadful mental image, I've just vomited on myself.

5. The Cougars - Teku Teku Tengoku
The best song ever in Japanese. Jona'll confirm this, I'm sure I pestered him to download it off me at some point. Haven't a clue what it's about, but it's bloody marvelous. Slinkingly sixties wonderfulness. In Japanese. What more do you want?

6. Terrorvision - Discotheque Wreck
I tried to go and see them in concert once. They wouldn't let me. Apparently, you needed a license or something. A Terrorvision license. I have to tell that "joke" whenever I mention Terrorvision. It's a tradition, or an old charter, or something. Anyway, you should all be ashamed of yourselves. If you'd loved Terrorvision the way they should be loved, then maybe they wouldn't have gone away and we'd have even more dead smart songs like this one. You bastards.

7. Bruce Springsteen - State Trooper
From Will Oldham's favourite Bruce album. Well, the one he steals from the most, at any rate. And why not, it's a bloody good album stuffed full of bloody good songs. So there. He should have done more like this, instead of Tunnel of Love. Damn him.

8. Flipper - Sex Bomb
I'm sure this has cropped up before, but I'm certainly not complaining. It's one of the songs that everyone in the world should have. Nearly eight minutes of splendour, feels like less than two. One listen is never enough. NEVER. Hypnotic bass, incongruous sax, screamy shouty vocals (which you just know Kurt liked a little bit too much). Not much by way of lyrics, beyond "sex bomb baby, yeah" and all the shouty screams, but it doesn't matter. Bloody fucking wonderful. I cannot recommend this song enough, I really can't.

9. Six Finger Satellite - Funny Like a Clown
Which is to say, not in the least bit funny at all. In fact, more scary than funny. A bit like the song. SFS really should have been widely adored, not roundly ignored. There is a bowloid with a SFS secret, but that secret shall remain just that (and no, the secret isn't that they're the only other person to know who SFS are, but that is also true, I suspect).

10. Busta Rhymes (feat. P. Diddy, Pharrell and about thirty five other people, including Mr. T. in the video) - Pass the Courvoisier Part II
My ass getting big now. Say what, Busta? Your ass is doing what now? Busta does his usual trick of occupying less than 33% of his own song. The lazy tosser. Still, you can't beat a bit of Busta. Not even with a really big stick. All charty rap songs should be this good.

11. Tony Christie - Avenues and Alleyways
Theme tune to The Protectors and my favourite song when I was about 4. And if that isn't recommendation enough, then I don't bloody well know what is. Sheffield's very own Tom Jones. Sheffield didn't need one, probably didn't want one, but that didn't stop Tony. That's kind of guy he is. My mum went to see him on a works christmas do once, at the very nadir of his popularity. Needless to say, she wasn't impressed.

12. The Knights of the New Crusade - He Has Risen
Random my fucking arse. This has been on before - which, out of 25k songs probably isn't that likely. Still, bloody good. It's about Jesus, naturally. He has risen, yeah that's his bag, and now our lives, won't be a drag.

13. Jimmy Ruffin - What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?
They have a big cry and eat lots of chocolate, Jimbo. Sometimes they boil pets and the like. Lots of things, really. If you need me to tell you about the greatness of this song, then you know what you are, cement head.

14. Queen - Brighton Rock
It's a rarity this song. A rarity because it is one of the few songs (very possibly the only one, apart from maybe the wanking song, sorry, Flick of the Wrist) on Sheer Heart Attack that doesn't make me want to go and punch Mrs Roger Taylor very hard in the face (it'd have to be him - Freddy's dead, as Curtis Mayfield predicted, with Brian May there is always the chance I might accidentally punch the innocent Anita Dobson by mistake and as for John Deacon, well, I'd likely as not have difficulty picking him out from a line up. Even if he was the only one in it). I really, really detest this album. In fact, I hate this song too, because it is followed by FUCKING LEROY FUCKING BASTARD SHITTY BROWN. I don't mind Queen, I really don't, but did they have to extend their fucking Bugsy Malone period over an entire album? No, they didn't. The song "Sheer Heart Attack" has been scientifically proven to contain three frillion times more enjoyment than the entire album of the same name. An album it isn't even on - this annoys me also. Why do bands do that? Twats.

15. The Fall - Terry Waite Sez
Stop fighting and untie me from this radiator. Oh, and be nice to one another, grow a beard like mine and go to church.

16. Monster Magnet - Snake Dance
If Satan lived in heaven, he'd be me. Uh huh. Let the Snake Dance begin!

17. Curtis Mayfield - (Don't Worry) If There's a Hell Below, We're All Going to Go
Damn skippy. Sisters, brothers and the whiteys. Blacks and the crackas. Police and their backers. Yes, ALL OF YOU. All going to hell. Likely as not in a handcart. If they're playing this, then I don't mind. Well, as long as the crackas are in a different carriage, obviously. The album cover makes it look like Curtis has the longest legs in all of creation.

18. System of a Down - Kill Rock'n'Roll
I want a beard like Serj's. I'm not allowed, apparently. No more records for quite some time from SOAD makes me sad. Although I suppose I have been somewhat spoiled recently with two wonderful albums in very short order. Still, mighty selfish of them. Just because of that, I've listened to it twice in a row.

19. Max Bygraves - A Hard Day's Night
Words really cannot describe how fucking awful this song is. Nor how much better than the original it is, too.

20. Iron Maiden - Run to the Hills
I'm going to get married to this song, should I ever get married. And buried to it. Failing that, I'm just going to walk up and down Market Street pulling along a shopping trolley with a portable stereo in it playing this over and over and over at immense volume. It's good to have a goal in life.

Best. Song. Ever.

T'ra.

Attention, whore!

2007-11-30T14:14:00.001-08:00

Listen to your pimp. No, not really. It was about a cat doing something and it looks a bit funny, and it's all, like, attention whore! Probably a cart wheel. Or perhaps a wagon wheel. Yes, that was it. A picture of a cat doing a wagon wheel. Triple X rated!

I spoil you, really I do.

Anyway, enough of this pointless preamble, and on with the equally pointless amble. Starting with...

1. Nirvana - D7
You've sunk my battleship! Which is how, of course, Barry Wiper from The Wipers originally came up with the title for the song. The verses articulate his rage at Keith Wiper from The Wipers for cheating by sneaking a look at his board whilst he was in the toilet and then using this illicit intelligence to sink his minesweeper. Which is a euphemism for gay sex.

2. Gravy Train!!!! - You Made Me Gay
This is also a cover of a Wipers song, written by Barry Wiper after Keith Wiper had introduced him to the joys of sinking the minesweeper on that fateful day. They later unofficially married. Its also a really awesome song.

3. Mad Violets - World of LSD (I Wanna Come Back)
Sadly, the "marriage" didn't last, and Barry Wiper took the unusual step of drowning his sorrows in psychoactive hallucinogenic drugs (bloody rock stars, eh? Special Brew not good enough for them, I suppose). Here, the Mad Violets (in their inimitable 60s garage revivalist way) cover his desperate musical plea to Keith Wiper to take him back and free him from his drugs hell, his "World of LSD" and to recommence firing salvos at his aircraft carrier.

4. Human Expression - Calm Me Down (single)
The plea fell on deaf ears. With his customary determination (a determination he also applied to his drugs intake, leading to the earlier "World of LSD"), Barry Wiper tried again and wrote this heartfelt prayer to the love of his life Keith Wiper. So good was it that it prompted the Human Expression to take the unusual step of recording it almost twenty years before it was written in a 60s jangly sunshiney pop fashion. Bless.

5. Ismail Haron & The Guys - Bersedia
The plight of the star cross'd lovers touched the hearts of millions across the globe, including Ismail who, feeling helpless so far away in the Phillipines (and two decades in the past), recorded this in tribute - "Bersedia" being Phillipinesian for "Vaseline". He stole the tune from The Temptations.

6. Elvis Presley - Blue Suede Shoes (That's The Way It Is Concert Version)
This isn't about Barry Wiper and Keith Wiper, obviously. It's Elvis, and Elvis didn't have a time machine (if he did, he'd probably have gone back, made fewer films, fired his manager and gone a bit easier on the deep fried lard pies). It was, however, later covered by Talking Heads and Tanita Tikaram on a tribute album for the anguished pair called "Won't You Come Back and Sink My Minesweeper One More Time, Baby". Their motivation at choosing this particular song is unclear, although Tanita was once heard to say in that lovely, deep, manly voice of hers that "blue is a nice colour, and they seem nice people, uh-huh". She then went to have her chest waxed.

7. The MonoMen - Murder City Nights
Barry's descent into drug hell has been well documented. What is less widely reported is that during this tormented period of his life (after discovering the joys of sinking the minesweeper and before whatever I make up later) he took to touring the bath-houses and gay brothels of Murder City in the notoriously lawless state of New Jersey. This song obliquely references these episodes. The title of the song is less oblique in its referencing, leading to later lawsuits filed by various members of the Wipers fraternity. Which is, of course, why all subsequent recordings of the song have been cunningly retitled "Deeply Dippy".

8. Melvins - Moon Pie (feat. Kevin Sharp)
This song is over twelve minutes long. It is also less than thirteen minutes long, but that aspect is not as relevant to the point I wish to make. And that point is that it isn't easy making up a load of gibberish regarding Barry Wiper on the spot, prompted by an irreverent off the cuff remark at the end of the first song, you know. It might look easy to be this unrelenting vapid, but let me tell you it ISN'T. Hard bloody work. Thus, the twelve minutes provides me some breathing space - breathing space that I have now wasted a large part of by waffling on about it to you and enjoying having my innards ground out by the Melvins. Moon Pie was, of course, Keith Wiper's favourite dessert and the one eaten at his and Barry Wiper's wedding reception. Rather than using actual moon (that would have been too expensive, even for Barry Wiper), they used the accepted substitute of boiled egg, wrapped in marzipan and dusted liberally with PCP. I didn't make the most of the breathing space, when you think about it.

9. GLC - Roller Disco
Barry Wiper, during his "lost years", liked nothing more than skating round the roller rinks of Murder City, NJ whilst ripped to the tits on LSD and Horse Steroids and wearing little more than a skimpy pair of leatherette hotpants and a wide grin, before desperately scuttling his destroyer with anyone who would take him and experimenting with an assortment of MB Games, such as Guess Who, Connect Four, Ker-Plunk, and Buck-a-roo (which is also a euphemism for gay sex). It was a sad, desperate time.

10. The Rally Packs - Move Out Little Mustang
Barry Wiper knew he had hit rock bottom when he found himself cruising rodeos for horses. He penned this self-reflective ode to his bestiality some years later, which was then covered many decades earlier in a Beach Boys style by these jokers.

11. Lightyears Away (Astral Navigation) - Yesterday
At the height of the sixties psychedelia boom in Britain, this band (with the sort of band name that makes you think you've got it confused with the song title) predicted Barry Wiper's plight by writing a song about the day before. Clever.

12. Man or Astro-Man - Transmissions from Uranus
Barry Wiper's paean to how much he missed sinking the minesweeper with Keith Wiper. Really, with a gift of a song title like that, you should be making up your own entry (hurr, hurr I said "entry").

13. Young Marble Giants - Salad Days
Good friends as they were with the Wiper family, YMG recorded this cryptic and oblique celebration of Keith Wiper and Barry Wiper's joyous reunion as part of their Colossal Youth album. Most cryptic and oblique was the fact that they recorded it a year before the two actually met.

14. Green River - Hangin' Tree
Famously the progenitors of both Mudhoney and Pearl Jam, Green River had many similarities to the Wipers, including the fact they both used guitars. Moved by this similarity, they commemorated in song Barry Wiper's suicide attempt in the aftermath of the rodeo cruising scandal. They did it on one of the Green River songs where they sound like Mudhoney, which is always a bonus. It features on Sub Pop 200 which is, as everyone knows, a benefit for Barry Wiper's rehabilitation fund.

15. The Who - Time is Passing
Yes, yes it is. Curiously enough, those were the precise words spoken by Keith Wiper to Barry Wiper when they kissed and made up. Which is the end of it (unless the next song is called something like "Battleships the Game is a Metaphor for Same-sex Loving" by Keith and Barry Wiper. Which is, let's face it, highly unlikely even for me and my rusty spoon music).

~~16. Keith and Barry Wiper - Battleships the Game is a Metaphor for Same-sex Loving~~

16. Mudhoney - Revolution
In your FACE, Jason Pierce and The Other One (what the battleship kind of a name is Sonic Boom anyway?). Far too good a song to ruin with waffle of the kind applied to the previous 15 songs (even if it does explicitly reference drug taking and shoving morphine suppository up one's rectum).

17. Pearl Jam - Education
I think sPazTunes belated picked up on the Green River/Progenitor thing and decided to show off it's l33t mixing skillz. Or something. Either way, a thoroughly enjoyable one of Pearl Jam's "Lost Dogs".

18. Wu-Tang - Triumph (feat. Cappadonna)
What up, G. Scary Rap Dudes ahoy! A premium slice, too, with the opening bomb atomically, socrates, lyrical philosophies verse being one of my favourite bits of Wu (as is Meth's verse afterwards). Not many Scary Rap Collectives can sustain your interest over both discs of a double album. Who can? Wu can.

19. Richard Berry - Louie Louie
One of thirty five gillion versions of Louie Louie. The downside, as with all of them, is that its a version of Louie Louie and therefore inherently shit.

20. Love - Can't Explain (stereo)
Bet you can. Stereo is really easy to explain. You're just not trying.

Well there you go. Musical insight and touching human melodrama all in the space of one weighty, moving and emotional post. I spoil you, really I do.

T'ra.

Treachery!

2007-11-30T14:10:00.000-08:00

That was the theme of the removed picture. It was that one of the two cats doing that thing, the really funny thing, and everyone laughed. Ha ha ha. Now fuck off.

Okay, so it wasn't a year. It was a week. Hardly any at all difference in cosmic or geological terms. Regardless, come with me now on a journey through time and space ... well, the labyrinthine recesses of my musical collection, at any rate. It'll be all the same stuff as usual no doubt, including the "humour" from me. Or don't come, I don't really care.

Yeah.

1. Pearl Jam - My Way
Yes, that My Way. It's a live rendition that comprised the b-side of one of their fan-club only singles. So you can probably quite accurately imagine the quality of a) sound and b) performance. It wasn't even good enough to be the a-side of a gift to the sort of people who would happily pay to hear Eddie play the spoons. Or vomit in a vaguely rhythmic fashion. May have been fun if you'd been there. I wasn't and I doubt any of you were. Fucking awful.

2. Chef - No Substitute
Stellar opening, sPazTunes. Way to make my musical collection an even more radiant pit of shit than most people already surmise it to be. Yes, that Chef. So on the plus side, you have Isaac's superb voice. On the down side, well, on the down side you have the fact that it barely sustains your ears' attention for the entire length of the first listen. And, seeing as I've heard it often before, it's not much fun. Not even Isaac singing his own high pitched backing inbetween his own bits. At least it's not Chocolate Salty Balls, I suppose.

3. Devo - Space Junk
It's Devo. So yes, lurking at the back of your mind is the Rugrats theme. Not my favourite Devo song. Not even in the top three. Or top five. Hell, it doesn't make the top ten. Why do I have a top ten of Devo songs readibly referenceable in my head? Still, easy enough on the ears.

4. Mirah - You've Gone Away Enough
But you haven't. Please go away a bit further. Bit further. Little bit further. Ta.

5. Mudhoney - Ounce of Deception
There are six gillion reasons to love Mudhoney, and you can hear them all in pretty much every bastarding song. I want all six gillion learnt and recitable by next week, please. Or at least four.

6. Van Der Graaf Generator - After the Flood
You'll need a sodding great mop. Eleven and a half minutes of splendidness. Splendidity. Splendosity. I could be a while doing this, we've got time to kill. Splendulousness. Splenderisity. No, not even I could fill the remaining eight minutes with whimsical spellings of splendid. Just go and listen to the song. And the rest of the album "The Least We Can Do is Wave to Each Other", because then you'd get to hear the heartpunchingly beautiful Refugees, as well. Which is not to be confused with The Fugees, who are in no way heartpunchingly beautiful. Although that Pras sure has his moments. It's got an organ (hurr, hurr), a flute, a touch of discordant atonality, lots of different speeds and Peter Hamill's voice. That's every box well and truly ticked for me, cement head.

7. Big Black - Fish Fry
It's like every other Big Black song - i.e. horrendously overrated and not as good as Naked Raygun. Apart from Colombian Necktie. I really like that one. But it's like all the other ones apart from that one.

8. Nova Mob - Please Don't Ask
The nice end of solo Hüsker Dü, the Grant end, the end without Bob being an MTV suck up. I guessed the alt+numbers for the 'ü' then. Took me a while. It's really quite a pretty song. Only to be expected, given that it has been proved by scientists in a lab that Grant >>> Bob to a factor of transfinity. Plus one. In your FACE, Mouldboy.

9. Led Zeppelin - Achilles Last Stand
Watch your heels! Should have worn protective boots, he'd have been fine. Led Zeppelin are one of those bands that manage to be overrated and underrated at the same time. This falls into the overrated bit. Long for the sake of it, and a minimum of riff-based hotness. Still, it's alright I suppose, just not for ten minutes. I think sPazTunes is going for some kind of mix-length record.

10. Quintron & Miss Pussycat - Shoplifter
It goes "boing" occasionally. Honestly, words cannot do justice to the unique aceness of Mr. Quintron. Go find out for yourself. And there would be worse starting points than this song. Go on. GO ON.

11. Denny & Lenny and the Hollywood Ghouls - Monster's Love
It's a do-wop lament about a monster. Your mind should be boggling slightly about now, cement head.

12. Deep Purple - Pictures of Home
A choice slice of The Purps. Ian Gillan on cracking form, you can almost hear a young Bruce Dickinson taking notes. As Machine Head songs go, it's not as good as Highway Star or Space Truckin', but better than Smoke on the Water (the live version of that is the only good one anyway). Chugs along like a bitch. A big rock bitch.

13. The Saints - Run Down
Thanks, Australia. Thaustralia. Punkily and grubbily poppy, with a bearable amount of harmonica (which, for me, isn't a terribly large amount). Should have been more famous. Famouser.

14. Roxy Music - Do The Strand (Live '75)
Fantastic song, good version (although the sound levels jump dramatically now and then. Bastard for headphones. But still, as bootlegs go, it's pretty fucking damn wonderful).

15. BBC Radiophonic Workshop - Dr. Who Theme
In the very slight possibility that Gav is reading this nonsense, I should make it clear that it's the 1980-85 version. There is a difference, you know. Dediggedyding dediggedyding oooooh weeeeeeeee ooooooooooohhh...

16. The Lovemongers - Battle of Evermore
Piss. In music form.

17. The Sweet - Action
How good were t'Sweet. No, seriously. I'd forgotten. AND THATS WHY EVERBODY WANTS A PIECE OF THE ACTION. Sorry, overtaken by the lyrics there. It's no Teenage Rampage, but it's still mighty fine. Feeling fed up? Listen to t'Sweet! Guaranteed cure. But not the shit ones. Only the good ones. Like this one. I GOT WHAT EVERYBODY NEEDS, SATISFACTION GUARANTEED. Sorry, it happened again.

18. Beat Happening - Knick Knack
Bit of a change, there. A lovely one, though. Now, give me t'Sweet back, dammit.

19. The Masonics - Return of the Galloping Goblin
Certainly gallops, in its little medway way. Not sure about the Goblin aspect, though. Who cares, when it's this good!

20. Electric Wizard - Weird Tales / Electric Frost / Altar of Melektaus
Fuck, yeah. A quarter hour of head-scouring, brain-stirring, innards-rumbling grinding riffz. With a motherfucking Z. Honestly, why there isn't a copy of "Dopethrone" in every household in the land, NAY, the world, I'll never know. Actually, I know already. It's because you're all cement heads who haven't realised how fucking ecstatically and rib-jarringly wonderful this album is. I reckon Funeralopolis should be played at my funeral. But only if I could be alive to see their faces. And to make sure they played all nine minutes of it. With all fifteen minutes of this at the wake. That'd be ace.

So yes. I'm off to stick Dopethrone on repeat about forty-three times.

T'ra.