Take Splatt! Ch-Ching

Stop the world, evacuate your towns and prepare yourselves for some really bad new … Robbie is back!

Yes, that’s right people, what every woman in Britain aged forty to fourteen has been waiting for: Take Splatt have fully re-formed! You can almost feel the dampness on the undergarments and the sudden over-excited piss-stains appearing in their jeans already!

Before I continue with what you will probably already predict from my newly sharpened mouse, I’d like to thank my wonderful sister for adding me to the Take Splat mailing list in the early nineties. The postcards in the hall were a particular embarrassment when my mates knocked round. Cheers for that luv! Haha

So, Robbie, Mark, Jason, Gary and that gimp who sounds like he’s sucking on a piece of tree bark have decided to make themselves whole again. Interesting that they have cited their reasons for getting it on again as purely professional and “for the great songs they have stored up”. Hahahahaha, don’t make me fucking laugh

There is one reason and one reason only they have re-formed and it’s as plain as the big gay nose on the end of their big gay faces – money!

Anyone who is taken in by this bullshit these five blerts have come out with about it being “about the music” needs to go and have their craniums examined and book themselves in for a full lobotomy!

The only negotiations they have been sorting out before they announced their news is how much they can get in endorsements from the likes of Pepsi, Sky and any other gang of corporate wankers willing to pay them far too much money for their services!

Take Splatt are nothing short of media whore corporate slags who are willing to sell their souls to the devil in return for fame and fortune. If you don’t believe me do a quick Google search of Robbie Williams last record deal and then have a listen to the SHIT he released in return!

You will be truly shocked

Take that … and FUCK OFF!!!

Mol

Festival of Cheap Talk

You know that feeling you sometimes get when you wake up in the middle of the night, hot, sweaty, extremely anxious and your bed having the trade mark resonance of a Dutch Oven? That’s how I felt the other night when I woke up and realised the hot and sweaty months of summer are well and truly upon us

Anyway, before you ask, I hadn’t shit the bed, it was something more terrible – I realised its music festival season! Great!

These days people don’t really need to go to festivals such as Glastonbury, Isle of White and the ‘V’s’ as ITV and BBC pretty much have every base covered when it comes to their coverage

But the really shit thing about the coverage these two channels and many others have of these events are the endless amounts of arse licking the interviewers do to the musicians they have on their show

An example of this was me watching the NME channel the other day at the Download Festival. The cameras were backstage and they were interviewing Taylor Hawkins from Foo Fighters. He was sat there in his typical rock star pose, slouched in his chair, Aviator shades on, beer in hand (plastic cup, of course) talking about how he got there (flight), what he had for tea (sandwich), how long he slept on the plane for (five hours), where he got his wellies from (some hippy guy gave him them), who he was gonna ‘hang with’ (the list was too long, but let’s just say his feet must have been really sorry after all the names he dropped).

Anyway, by this time, in between serious fits of yawning, he relentlessly (what most Americans do) went on and on and on and on and I thought to myself what a load of fucking utter rubbish! Who really wants to know all this shit apart from celebrity obsessives and other rock stars? I eventually came to the one conclusion that was all rock stars are utterly boring self-absorbed bastards who are about as exciting as listening to an Athlete album!

But, going back to the intrepid roving reporter. There’s something that bugs me about them and the way they stick their microphones where they shouldn’t and it’s the pure look of star struck dumbness that comes over them while their subjects are telling them about what they had for dinner, who they met on the plane, who they’d like t o shag, etc, etc, etc!!!

Personally, I don’t get it; it’s like a real life version of Face book with a set of boring, friendly generic questions constantly reeled out time after time guaranteed not to offend. Dull dull fucking dull!!!

Now before you all start calling me a grumpy bastard (again) I would like to point out that not all British Music festivals are shit. Glastonbury, thanks to the father and daughter partnership of the Eavis family, has independently maintained their festival for over forty years without it being over taken by the massive corporations such as the V’s and T in the Park for example. You have to take your hat off to them for that

But that’s not my ‘beef’; my beef is with the constant shit that the TV companies do whilst covering these events

I firmly believe the producers of these programmes that order their presenters to mix it in the mud for a few days with the ‘stars’ they have to chase are told to over-sensationalize them to the point that many people/fans see these musicians as some sort of god-like figures

It’s nothing short of pathetic and another example of fame being all about smoke and mirrors

Until the summers over, I suggest you either attend one of these music festivals or turn off the telly and go and live in a tent until the autumn

Leave the willies in the shed though!

Mol

You Can'r Check Out Anytime You Like

So, rock stars have stopped throwing tellies out of windows and driving cars into swimming pools. Shame really isn’t it?

Just been reading an article by some music ‘journo’ who claims rock stars are all nice and fluffy creatures these days compared to their compatriots thirty odd years ago.

To be honest, she does have a point, but the contents of the article are what I disagree with as she doesn’t really tackle the subject of WHY so many of today’s ‘stars’ tend to have an early night with a nice cup of hot chocolate instead of staying up for three days banging groupies and taking numerous cocktails of drink and drugs.

So why is it? Well one reason is that so many of today’s music stars have to portray an image that is sweaky clean. This is mainly down to ‘orders’ given from chief execs of record labels who don’t like to see rapid share losses from their multi billion pound businesses just because a story in one of the rags has broke about one of their stars being found in a hotel with an empty packet of Viagra, a trampoline and a donkey wearing fetish gear! Heaven forbid!

But, to be honest here, I think today’s crop of talented youngsters are nothing short of utterly fucking boring individuals who are more obsessed of how big their houses can be and how big their bank balances can be instead of keeping any form of personality or music integrity intact that they may once have possessed in a previous life

I don’t really want to single out any individual here, but in the true spirit of this Blog, I’m going to!

Now, take the likes of Keane for example. I was reading in the above mentioned article and it mentioned that when they are on the road touring they insist on their mattresses not being too tightly folded over on the side of the beds they are staying in!!!! Jesus Christ, I nearly fell out of bed pissing myself when I read that! Are they gonna ask for their mother’s to be on hand as well just in case they shit/wet the bed as well? What a gang of absolute quilts (hahaha- get it?) And to make matters even that more cringe worthy, the stuck-up chaps in Keane also insist (I must emphasise – insist) that their pillows don’t have feathers in them!

Seriously though, why should these people be treated in such a pampered way only a child under the age of two should warrant? Are they going to shit themselves if they don’t have their Horlicks heated to the right temperature? Are they going to spit their dummies out if they don’t have the UK Living Channel at just the right volume?

At the end of the day I really don’t see why these people should be treated in such a way as they are only making music

Keith Moon would be turning in his grave

Babies!

Mol

A Nod's As Good As A Wink ... To A Ginger Manc

Something’s in life really do render you breathless to the point you have just been fed a roasting hot Sayers sausage roll by some Huyton Ma’. As well as that, the saying “anything is possible” is probably the truest sentence ever used in music. Examples being – Simon Cowell wearing his kex below his tits, Susan Boyle buying hair removal cream and most recently (thinking my eyes were deceiving me) The Faces reforming ... WITH MICK FUCKING HUCKNALL AS LEAD SINGER!!!!

WHAT THE FUCK!!!

I’ve seen some bizarre comings together in the world of music in my time, but none quite as surreal as this it has to be said

Now, some of you know I’m a pretty big fan of The Faces. They were a great bunch of fellas who didn’t take themselves too seriously, told some great stories and wrote some superb songs. Simply Red on the other hand never have been a big hit with me (or most people of Liverpool to that effect) and represented a totally different genre of music to which The Faces adopted.

So you’d instantly think any form of coming together between the remaining members of The Faces and the soul ginger gimp-like driving force behind Simply Red was simply folly? Wrong!

Now, don’t get me wrong here, some come-backs can be pretty good especially for those fans with a certain un-breakable attachment and romance towards their heroes as they were in their hay day, but, let’s be brutally honest here, this just goes against all the rules of what is tasteful (and tasteless) when it comes to judging a come-back and I’m afraid to say my mind is made up here and I’ll give you my honest opinion on the matter – it’s fucking shit!

Imagine these scenarios: David Van Day stepping in for Mick Jigger or Johnny Borrell stepping in for Bono at Glastonbury. You honestly can’t tell me you think they aren’y wrong can you?

So, pending this story not being some sort of tabloid wind-up, what are we to expect from the Wrinkly Old Chaps from ‘Darn Sarf’ and the Legendary Ginger Manc Lothario? Are we going to hear Hucknall break into “Holding Back the Years” as they are half way through “Stay with Me”?

I certainly hope not as poor old Ronnie Lane (RIP) will be turning in his grave!

And I for one will not be attending or subjecting my ears to such crap!

Mol

Jeff Buckley - Expert in Girls Talk

Women! Sometimes they can really get (no pun) on your tits! You all know what I mean. For example: when they leave the tap on whilst brushing their teeth, engage in the most irrelevant of meaningless small talk and (most annoying of all) manage to leave their long strands of hair lying around so that, somehow, they end up wedged between the cheeks of your arse! (Any man who doesn’t own up to this by the way is a plain and simple liar)

So, my dear readers, you must be wondering what the fuck I am twittering on about. Well, it’s this – romance! Or more importantly – romantic lyrics

I was sat in the garden on the (only) most of summer’s days with my beloved. So, as any sane bloke would do, to drown out the endless and constant flow of ‘bird drivel’ coming out of my missus’ north and south, I put some tunes on

As an ode to my missus as I don’t like getting a cob on with her as she’s alright ye know, I thought I’d give Jeff Buckley a shout. Obviously I’m not going to ‘give him a shout’ as the poor fucker is brown bread. But, Jesus! What a lyricist! The man really was an utter genius. Pity he didn’t put as much time into learning how to swim as he did song writing

The song that really does get me ‘in the mood’ (more about that later) has always been ‘Lover You Should Have Come Over’. Here are a few examples of how great the lyrics Buckley came up with on this song:

“She’s a tear that hangs inside my soul for forever”

“A kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder”

But! And it’s a big fucking but, Buckley’s lyrics are guaranteed any bit of snatch to grace (no pun) your bed sheets and with (un)fertilised eggs in the morning without a shadow of a doubt

So, next time your ‘on the prowl’, I suggest you have a listen to ‘Grace’ and especially the afore mentioned song for inspiration

You’ll be ‘taters deep’ in no time, lad

Mol

Songs for Tom & George

This week I, like some of you, was utterly shocked to read the latest Blog from a good mate of mine who writes about the current shenanigans surrounding Liverpool Football Club and their current owners. If you want to read more, check out Well Red. You will be truly shocked

Being a lifelong fan of LFC myself I was prompted by the afore mentioned ‘Good Egg’ to do a Blog in honour of LFC’s ‘Guardians’ and what songs could possibly be appropriate for these two titheads who have been running out great club into the ground over the last three years

So, with a special thanks to all my readers for their contributions to this Blog and especially to Mr Neil Condron for his outsanding contribution, here goes:

North American Scum – LCD Sound System

The Man Don’t Give a Fuck – Super Furry Animals

Tax Loss – Mansun

Money – Pink Floyd

You never give me Your Money – The Beatles

Beat It – Michael Jackson

Doledrum – The La’s

Fuck Off And Die – Viovod

Rape Me – Nirvana

Little House of Savages – The Walkmen

I Hate Everything About You – The Wonder Stuff

Sting Me – The Black Crowes

You Think I Ain’t Worth A Dollar, But I Feel Like A Millionaire – QOTSA

Grounds for Divorce – Elbow

Little Lies – Fleetwood Mac

This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both Of Us – Sparks

Stand and Deliver – Adam and the Ants

Kick Out the Jams – MC5

Money’s Too Tight To Mention – Simply red

High and Dry – Radiohead

This House is a Circus – Arctic Monkeys

Shake Your Money – Black Grape

Ain’t No Easy Way Out – Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

Stuck in a Rut – The Darkness

We Just Won’t be Defeated – The Go! Team

The Evil That Men Do – Iron Maiden

Laughing Stock – Love

Your Time is Gonna Come – Led Zeppelin

21^st Century Rip Off – The Sound Track of Our Lives

No Fun – Iggy and the Stooges

Friction – Television

I Think I Smell a Rat – The White Stripes

And finally...

Won’t Get Fooled Again – The Who (take note of the lyrics in this one by the way)

So, George & Tom, if by any chance you just might be reading this, I and millions of other fans of Liverpool Football Club have a message for you: You won’t dampen our spirits, you won’t take away our will and you won’t crush our resolve! We are here to stay and we will be here long after you two wankers have drove off into the sunset with your packed bags and your tidy ‘ransom’. In other words – do one ye pair of Texans!

Finally, in honour of the Liverpool fans all around the world and especially The Spirit of Shankly movement, there can only be one true song for us. I think you know how it goes

“When you walk .........”

Mol

It Was Acceptable In The 80's

Ah, the eighties. Seems its back … with a vengeance!

Just been watching one of them documentaries featuring all matter of jaaag celebrities talking about their exploits during the eighties. You know the type of programme featuring Bob Mills and Annie Lennox talking about their hey days gone by.

Anyway, If you manage to ask anyone about this decade of bizarre make up and new romantics I’ll guarantee they will roll their eyes in disgust (or embarrassment depending on how old they are). It usually gets a pretty bad reputation, and, in some musical instances, rightly so. What I mainly remember about the eighties (when I was growing up of course) was Tizwaz, Chackerjack and my Art teacher (Mr Nuttall) going off his head trying to control a gang of twenty-odd mad school kids calling him “Mr Nutter” and throwing markers and board dusters at him!

When ever people think of the eighties a lot will instantly think of the likes of Paul Young with his twenty five backing singers singing about where he left his fucking hat, Madonna singing about being a virgin (see opening scene of Reservoir Dogs for funny anecdote) and of course the outrageous fashion sense of the likes of Spandau Ballet, Duran Duran and Bros (hands up who still collect the Grolsch bottle tops – Heyzie). It’s examples like this that maintained that bad rep!

But, it wasn’t really all that bad to be honest

The eighties also gave us many fine artists that many people seem to forget about. The likes of The Smiths, Frankie Goes to Hollywood and The La’s all fell into the so called creditable bracket as I like to call it. These were the bands that stood up to the ‘old guard’ (Phil Collins, Paul Young, Dire Straits, etc, etc) and the ‘dreamt up’ bands that the labels created (and dressed) who appealed to the masses of pubescent teenage girls who were too busy having wet dreams over the posters on their walls of Curiosity Killed the Cat, Bros and Spandau Ballet instead of actually taking time to listen to the ‘music’ they were no doubt forced to sing (and release). And while were on the subject, can anyone tell me what the fuck Paul Young knows about the ‘love of the common people’? Always baffled me that!

The eighties, rather fortunately, also gave us the glam rock era. Many of you avid readers know I’m a bit of a metal fan and pretty much know how much I detested the glam scene of the early eighties both here and more notably in America. But you have to admit here, the sight of Dave Lee Roth & David Coverdale’s Poodle haircuts, Def Leppard’s one armed drummer and the rather striking and controversial Blackie Lawless from W.A.S.P. (White Anglo Saxon Protestants or We Are Sexual Perverts – it’s your call on what they were officially called) were quite superb comedy value. Love them or hate them, they did exist and if you turn over to VH1 at anytime during any day you are bound to see them and give out a chuckle. Joan Jet & The Blackhearts and Heart on the other hand, that gave birth to the phenomena that was The Power Balled! The less said about that the better eh?

So what of today’s crop of eighties throw backs? There does seem to be a hell of a lot of them around.

Here’s a few other examples:

Iglu & Hartley (topless torso with white kex – please), Le Roux (robot like female Kraftwerk rip off), Friendly Fires (seriously over elaborate and indulgent video makers with over-synthesized vocals),

The most dramatic of transformations of today’s bands has to be Mystery Jets though. Jesus! One minute they are Indie Popsters singing some decent … well … Indie tracks. The next minute they’re parading round with un-even style bowl head haircuts while looking like Crocket & Tubbs in a New Order video! Check out ‘In Love with a Girl’ and you’ll see (and hear) what I mean.

What does baffle me about this new wave of eighties impersonators is the praise they receive from their peers. Personally I don’t get it as I’m a bit of a stickler for original music and for bands who have a ‘re-inventing the wheel’ moment. Whether they are shit or good, it’s still original. To that, I take my hat off. Recycling, on the other hand, that should be left to the bin men who sort my rubbish out every fortnight

But, recycling is, if you really think about it, what they are doing. Money for old rope! Been there, done that, re-bought the (medium) t-shirt. And while were on the subject of T-shirts, how long will it be before we start seeing kids walking around with “Frankie says Relax” or “Choose Life” T-shirts? Not long I think

But, (and here’s my Jerry Springer moment) Music will always re-invent itself! Always has done, always will, there’s absolutely no doubt about that. And the kids who dress up like they’re about to film Club Tropicana two are not about to take over the world just yet.

So rest easy tonight, put your deck shoes on and put your feet up and watch Miami Vice on Dave and look forward to what really did fuck up the 80's = Tories!

Mol