Election Special - Death of a Titan

I was having a rather drunken and surreal conversation with a good mate of mine last week about my Blog

In between dealing with medical emergencies when another friend decided to do his best impression of The Chef from The Muppets (appropriate word) and cut the end of his fucking finger off with my big fuck off kitchen knife while attempting to cut a pineapple in half and people trying their best to freeze the bollocks off me (“SHUT THE FUCKING DOOR”) as it was Baltic outside, we came up with the idea of doing a Joint-Blog on the rather bizarre topic of what the three main political party leaders might be hiding away in their CD/IPod collection

Original topic i’m sure you’ll agree, so, without further ado, it’s over to our special guest Blogger (live from Westminster, of course) Ben ‘Andrew (Ye) Marr’ Owens for a quick insight into what might make you sway your vote towards The Tories, Lib Dems or Labour in May

The following is a bit long, but i urge you to please read ALL of it as it is utterly superb stuff

Death of a Titan

I was too young to remember the 70’s (unlike the editor of this blog) but I do remember with a sort of infantile disdain the 1980’s being a bit dark and perhaps the darkest, most depressing epoch of the last 30 years. When I think of the 1980’s I remember without any hint of nostalgia Grange Hill demi-perms, Toxteth riots, yuppies, Thatcher and the associated cultural grey cloud that hung poisonously over the North for some years during her reign.

I’ve also watched with macabre fascination, as, over the past few years, there has been an enormous 1980’s revival. It started, like most revivals start, with people sampling the kitsch bits of the decade; day glow leg warmers, 1980’s dedicated bars, Spandau Ballet and Duran Duran reunions and Gene Hunt in his ‘Quattro’. Those of us in our early teens when the 1980s became the 1990s will ourselves will remember other such rose tinted revivals that borrowed only the innocent and fun symbols of previous decades.

Grotesquely coloured MBS tops, people comparing flare widths, excessive pot smoking and The Stone Roses seemed to represent a new ‘Summer of Love’; the clothes represented the music and the music represented the times; a sense of unerring hope. (well for those of us too young to know there was a recession in the early 90’s) Even before that there was a tickling of a 1950s revival; I vaguely remember leather jackets and rolled up jeans being the fashion at the same time as The Stray Cats enjoyed moderate chart success, Elvis Costello’s dad secretly swigged R-Whites and Nick Kershaw sat in his grits sporting his well oiled quiff in the Levis Laundromat advert.

Well what about the mid to late 1990’s? Well if you could see past the majority of production line dance crap that flooded the charts between 1991 and 1993 there was also a hint of the 1970’s. Whilst this wasn’t fully represented in fashion until the volley of Brit-pop (apart from homosexual, ribbed, white T-shirts) it was musically characterised. The Brand New Heavies and the Acid Jazz label were largely responsible for the resurrection of divas, chic, perfectly tuned and produced guitar sounds, increased sales of wah-wah pedals and cocktails in The Conti.

Fortunately, we were saved from this Studio 51 resurgence by two gobby little Mancs (is there any other type?) and a blonde haired American smack-head with a penchant for left handed Fenders and AK-47s. We were only too happy to be assaulted by their distortion, swagger and lager swilling antics after the hiatus in musical grit that Acid Jazz seemed to embody. Their angst driven music permeated and influenced every aspect of our lives: local and national music, clothes, politics, drugs, attitude, literature, arrogance, terrace and street violence, and to some extent urban wit. Looking back now, and possibly even thinking then, it was the vital social enema we needed to remove us from the apathy that seemed to be swelling since the last time there was Punk; the most pertinent and groundbreaking social revolution of since the 1960s…which of course eventually leads on to the 1980s!

And it’s fair to say that we’ve all been caught up in this 1980s revival; only last Friday in the Stanley Arms I found myself extolling the virtues of my new (old) Casio calculator watch to the boys. At the same time, whilst being enclosed by an abundance of Huyton skip rats, we were also surrounded by a plethora of girls, barely in their 20s sporting enormous Muriel Gray decorative head bows, Bonnie Tyler back combed hair, Carol Deckeresque leather jackets, glow less leg warmers, Boy George make up and handbags that wouldn’t look out of place in Margie Clarke’s visit to The State in Frank Clarke’s Letter to Brezhnev.

The thing is, this sustained revival seems a little more menacing than previously thought. There seems no longer to be a borrowing of the innocent or funniest aspects of the 1980s as mentioned earlier. There is a complete immersion in the most distasteful and unattractive aspects of the 1980s and similarly this is reflected in society, and in some cases worse. Unemployment rates are again staggering; drug use, teenage pregnancies, custodial sentences are rising, the Falklands are again under contention, civic-mindedness is hibernating if not dead, aggression is rife, cowardice bullies personal dignity, most people are electively or forcibly mute, the ‘individual’ is the most important person and there is another phenomenal under-representation of an ethnic class; working-class, socially aware, contributors to society.

I find it poignant therefore, that now in the middle of such a drab renaissance there is little regurgitation of the cutting edge and gritty dramas that aired in the 1980s. Had ‘Auntie’ and/or ITV and/or SKY decided upon complementing this resurgence with the thought provoking and brutal ‘Boys from the Blackstuff’, the moving ‘One Summer’ or the murky and prophetic ‘Edge of Darkness’, I could feel there was indeed a glimmer of hope on the horizon. Such programmes shocked and were meant to shock, to raise awareness of our current circumstances and encourage us to emulate the formidable George Malone’s (Boy’s from the Blackstuff) insistence and that we ‘Rage against the dying of the light’.

This reference to George Malone is not accidental. His character and the episode relating to him are fitting indictments not only to what we experience today, but more so to the recent and saddening news, and reason for this title, of Michael Foot’s death.

The parodies are endless and genuine between George Malone and Foot, and I firmly believe that his passing leaves this country intellectually and behaviourally poorer. His politics were honest and hopeful if somewhat, in retrospect, short sighted and imperfect. But it is the humanism Foot employed to inform his politics that had elements of perfection and it is for this reason that for my first musical contribution relating to political leaders, I would out of both respect and new found reverence to Michael Foot like to predict what might be in his posthumous top 10 record collection.

Oxford Comma – Vampire Weekend

Foot was recognised as one of the greatest intellectuals to grace the Labour party. He was an erudite and accomplished speaker and writer. Whilst he came from a well-to-do middle class background, his social and political direction were not swayed despite being an Oxford graduate surrounded by others who were absorbed in the ‘Old School Tie’ myth. As the complete antithesis of anything ‘Oxford’ that the 1930s represented I truly believe his opinion, upon entering and leaving Oxford, would have been epitomised by the opening line of this song, ‘Who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma?’

Munich – The Editors

Foot was not scared of a fight. He became most vocal during the early part of his career in 1938 when Neville Chamberlain returned from his Munich Agreement meeting with Hitler to utter his trite phrase of ‘peace in our time’. History has proven that in 1938 Germany did not have the resources to go to war but Chamberlain’s arrogant belief that ‘if [he] coughed Europe would listen’ certainly encouraged History’s biggest lunatic to believe he could rule the world.

Foot had been vehemently opposed to appeasement and felt that Hitler should have been given a good kicking well before 1939 hence the relevance of the line from the above song.

‘People are fragile things,

You should know by now,

Be careful what you put them through.’

Paperback Writer – The Beatles

Most MPs have claimed that Foot was, at heart, not a politician. Most have claimed that had he would have been incapable of leading the Labour Party, had it gained power in 1983. There was however one thing that Foot was always recognised for and it was literary ability. He was the President of the HG Wells society and under the name of ‘Cato’ published a best selling book outlining his disdain over Chamberlain’s appeasement policy. Whilst this song seems like a fairly obvious choice and is about the ‘pulp’ novels of the 1940s to 1960s it’s lyrics do not represent Foot. It’s alleged that the inspiration for the song came from McCartney who claimed, in a radio interview, that he was so inspired that he could write about anything, picking up a paperback saying, ‘I could even write a song about this!’ It’s widely acknowledged that Foot was himself a prolific writer and whilst he might not have felt stirred, or conceited, enough to claim he could write about anything, what he did write was always recognised as moving, relevant but most importantly inspiring.

Suicide is Painless – Johnny Mandel

The idea for the song came from the film MASH in which the military dentist decided to commit suicide rather than face the thought of being gay. His friends during this Korean crisis; Donald Sutherland, Elliot Gould et al provide him with his ‘last supper’ before giving him a sleeping tablet they claimed was a suicide pill. They had every intention of supporting him and seeing him through this. Similarly the Labour Party did with Foot in 1983. Foot’s Labour manifesto was hailed to be the ‘greatest ever suicide note’ and the party recognised it, but like Hawkeye Pierce and Trapper John, the Labour Party wouldn’t let this man go it alone. Their respect and admiration for Foot (who was anti-Korean war conveniently) meant that they would support him wholeheartedly. Unfortunately, this defeat meant Thatcher’s greatest ever election victory. I like to think however that as the votes came in, the Labour Party joined in a subliminal, unified humming of this song and the melody that surrounds, what I believe to be, it’s most relevant phrase.

‘All our little joys relate,

Without that ever present hate,

But now I know that it’s too late’

Doledrum – The La’s

‘I can't see much down for me I think I'll run away to see I'll just get on my coat and shout’

There’s no double-edged sword to this song, the message is quite clear. Michael Foot was made Secretary of State for Employment in 1974 and pioneered some great Trade Union triumphs that would ensure that all workers were to be given equal and equitable working rights. He furthered this by implementing the Health and Safety at Work Act that safeguarded workers from managerial apathy. Whilst Foot made every effort to improve the working conditions and opportunities of all members of society, life was not a bed of employment roses for all to enjoy. There was, as there has always been and probably will be, an employee surplus, but he tried his best to manage this and keep numbers down. Whilst he was the first person to recognise his achievements he also recognised his failings; he recognised that before the pre-Thatcher years there were, on average, four people chasing one job. Fortunately, for the electorate he recognised that after one year of the Iron lady being in power there were, on average thirty-two people chasing one job. Sadly, the Chingford Skinhead, was not able to replicate Foot’s dedication to managing the mass unemployment which was to blight the UK for several years.

Bohemian Like You – The Dandy Warhols

It’s necessary to make reference to the ‘coat’ mentioned in the previous song. The Remembrance Day Memorial at the Cenotaph sees many members of the Royal family, Parliament and Armed Forces attended to pay homage to the dead heroes of previous conflicts. The annual pomp and parade that commemorates dead comrades-in-arms is always a welcoming and comforting sight for those who have lost loved ones. Sadly there has always been an enormous juxtaposition of the memories of the brave individuals who bled to death protecting democracy and the ‘Establishment’ that regularly attend in their finery. Foot recognised this and in 1981 attended the memorial in a ‘Donkey Jacket’. Foot was unable to join the army and fight in the war due to chronic asthma and consequently received no medals for conflict related activity. Instead his attendance, in 1981, in his workers’ garb, symbolised his existing struggle against the ‘Establishment’ and his medal for the recognition and plights of the working classes before, during and after the war. It was for his appearance, defiance and Anti-Establishment uniform that he was from 1981 to the end of his political career known as the ‘Bohemian Eccentric’ and admired by the Queen Mother who complimented him on his stance.

National Front Disco – Morrisey

As mentioned earlier, Foot was notoriously Anti-Europe. But he was also extremely republican. His stance against both Europe and the voting rights of hereditary peers brought him into seemingly close collusion with the particularly right wing politician Enoch Powell. When he allied himself to Powell most people in the party and the public were disgusted and this caused them to question Foot’s agenda. Foot was not racist, not right wing and certainly not one of ‘grinning piccaninnies’ that he was accused of being in Powells inflammatory ‘Rivers of Blood’ speech. Consequently during this commotion Roy Hattersley carefully approached Foot to gain an explanation for this unholy alliance. Foot, in his scholarly and ruthless manner, simply retorted, ‘Do you not realise that the defence of democracy transcends all other considerations?’ It is with this unerring view of the importance of democracy and the lengths he would go to secure it (if somewhat dramatic) that Morrisey’s ironic representation of National Front movements has been chosen. The narrative seems so obvious, like Foot’s allegiance with Powell, but the anti-nationalist message is evident behind – you just need, like Roy Hattersley did, to scratch the surface.

Oliver’s Army – Elvis Costello

The meanings behind this song seem limitless but all ideas recognise a few common themes: pro-republican, anti-empirical and the tendency of young, unemployed men from the inner city areas of the UK in the 1980s to join the Armed Forces due to rising unemployment.

‘We could be in Palestine,

Overrun by the Chinese line,

With the boys from the Mersey, the Thames and the Tyne’

The relevance to Foot is obvious as the themes of the song relate to what seemed to epitomise him and spur him on to be not only an example to follow but also one to emulate. His true belief in unity and equality led him to reject several life peerages and knighthoods from the Royal family. In addition to this, Michael Foot, during the build up to the 1983 general election, is widely recognised to have been the only person who could, and did, hold the Labour Party together like Oliver Cromwell who started and held together the first recorded ‘British Army’.

The Black Cloud of Islam – Roy Harper

It’s easy at the moment to fall foul of the Islamaphobia that seems to be violently permeating the fibre of British democracy so don’t be led astray by the title of this song. The opening lyrics of the song pay homage to Foot’s public support of Salmand Rushdie when a fatwa was placed on his head after the release of ‘The Satanic Verses’. The book was not, like Foot, anti-Islamic, but both recognised the inconsistencies that exist in some organised religious/political practices. The book simply represented democracy and freedom of speech which Foot, throughout all of his life, strived for and the book, like Foot, was not scared of pointing the fingers at those who cherry pick aspects of politics and religion to satisfy their own personal gratification,

‘I’m sick to the teeth of the news on the screen,

Of Hisbullah scum and Jihad the obscene

Whose men plant the bombs and live feeling free,

To watch women and children to be killed on TV.’

Been Smokin’ Too Long – Robin Frederick

In the 1970s it was revealed that Foot had been having an affair with a woman 35 years his junior. The revelation of this came about when a fellow MP recognised that the less than sartorial Foot had started paying attention to his appearance. He battled to save his marriage and reflected both publicly and undoubtedly privately on his misdemeanour. I find it reasonable to assume that he will have also equally reflected on his political career and what may have been. Would his career have been more lucrative had he not had the affair, or allied himself with Powell, or wore that donkey jacket, or publicly lambasted the ‘SDP Four’, or supported Thatcher in the Falklands conflict?

I have every confidence it would have been different. But I feel strangely comforted by the fact that it wasn’t and that whilst he left a somewhat incomplete legacy in British politics it was undeniably stirring for the working classes. The indelible and magnificent inheritance that this deeply thoughtful and colourful individual bequeathed us still has the potential to exist in our country today; a refusal to believe that hope is dead, a belief in common good and true socialism, but most importantly, a belief that although man may personally err, his capacity to fight for social unity and democracy will always survive regardless of how long he has been smoking.

‘Now in these blues I'm singing There's a lesson to be learned Don't go round smokin' Less you want to get burned Tell me, tell me, what have I done wrong? Ain't nothin' goin' right for me Must be I been smoking too long…’

Michael Foot

1919 – 2010

RIP

Greed Is Not Good!!!

I was listening to the news this morning and actually heard some rather good news … Abbey Road Studios are to be made a Listed Building

This is really good news as it means it will restore an important part of British Music Heritage and will stave off any unscrupulous property developers who wish to exploit the fact that the Beatles recorded there (no doubt some American consortium would have came in waving their bank loan around offering to buy it – sounds familiar doesn’t it?)

But this story genuinely brings a warm glow to my good soul as it’s one in the eye for the rich people of this world who think they can buy anything. Sadly, for them, you can’t buy history (with the exemption of certain Hollywood producers of course)

Anyone who reads this Blog from Liverpool will remember the same fate that was met by The Flying Picket in town as it was sold off to greedy property developers to build luxury flats (which no one moved into).

At the time it was pretty hard to believe that the Picket was closing as it was known the length and breadth of Britain as being one of it’s best underground venues starting off the careers of brilliant Liverpool-based bands the likes of The La’s, The Coral, Echo and the Bunnymen, The Real People and countless others (including myself and the other chaps. Ahem!)

But when we get down to the real nitty gritty of a city’s essential needs, the people ‘at the top’ need to ask themselves a really hard question: does your city need another set of luxury flats (which no fucker can afford anymore) to brighten and broaden your skyline or do your people need a venue that will make music, culture and a sense of community thrive?

I’ll go for the latter if you don’t mind

Mol

Mick & Keef Shine a Light to Un-Earth a Couple of Hot Rocks

This week I will be mostly wearing a fucking bit grin on my face the size of Cheryl Cole’s e-mail to Max Clifford People! Please do not adjust your set as this is Mol’s Sound Words and not one of Jessie’s Fashion Tips Anyway, the reason for my new found joy is Mick & Keef have been rummaging through their archives like ferocious Beavers and found four undiscovered songs that should have appeared on the greatest album ever made: The Stones’ 1972 classic, Exile on Main Street. Needless to say I’m as excited as a Little Red Rooster during mating season! The four tracks they found are called: Plundered My Soul, Dancing in the Light, Following the River and Pass the Win and I really can’t wait to hear them not just because they are Stones’ songs, but because they were recorded during a time when they were without question of a doubt the greatest rock n’ roll band in the world. This also coincides with a new documentary about the making of ‘Stones in Exile’ which, in my opinion, is way overdue. It’s due for release in the middle of May 2010 Now I’m not always a big fan of re-issues and these kind of ‘discoveries’, but in this instance (obviously) I’m over the fucking moon So, people. Do your self a favour, if you don’t own ‘Exile’ get out there and buy a copy. And please, watch the film when it comes out as well. You’ll thank me for it one day Mol

Rock Biopics = Yawn!!!

Just been reading about a new film coming out next month about John Lennon’s life towards the end of his career in The Beatles. As soon as I read the write up on it I thought “not another cheesy rock-biopics!” looks like I’m not gonna be disappointed either! If its not clichés galore like trashing hotels and failed romances with groupies, it’s predictable storylines about rags to riches and hit songs done in one take! Boring boring utterly fucking boring! I remember going to see the debut of The Doors in the early nineties at the multi plex pictures in Croxteth (that’s the nice part of Liverpool in case you didn’t know). It has to be the one and only time I’ve seen police inside there due to the amount of pot heads skinning up. The film, although full of the afore mentioned clichés, didn’t fail to impress as Oliver Stone made one of the best rock biopics I’ve personally seen. A rarity in the film world! But there has been some utter shit! Anyone ever seen the, not one, but two films about The Beach Boys? Fuck me, that is one seriously shit film!!! I know The Beach Boys had a few albums out and did generally do a hell of a lot of touring during their lengthy careers, but to fit it all into two 2 and a half hour feature length films is bordering on the ridiculous and seriously taking the fucking piss!! The worse part of the film though is the bit when Dennis Wilson is introduced to Charles Manson. They guy who plays Manson looks like Happy Gilmore’s Caddy. You’ve gotta watch it just for that as absolutely you’ll laugh your fucking arse off Other notable shit music films include the rather cringe worthy ‘Almost Famous’. It’s like a combination of all male bravado rock star chaps and nicey nicey fluffy bunny-like birds all mixing together as a band try to break into superstardom from the dole drums of rock obscurity. It also contains the obvious rock myths that all bands sing together on the tour bus, band members taking drugs and the ever present story line of a band about to break up due to some sort of jaaag fight! No pun here, but you’d think any director taking up this kind of challenge would change the fucking record wouldn’t ye? As regards the whole concept of rock biopics, I personally think they are boring for the main reason musicians are boring! Can you imagine going the pictures and watching three hours worth of (say for example) The Story of Take That? Or three hours of Girls Aloud? I wouldn’t know what was the truth was and what was fiction as a lot of these pop stars have censorship orders signed into their contracts in order to protect their squeaky clean image. Now what would be a good idea is to make an un-official version following the release of the official version. Mark Owen could be a crack dealer with a serious habit of shit flavoured sherbet products and Howard (the gimp with the lisp) could have an obsession with arse-less chaps and nipple tassels!! And a twist in the tale to the Girls Aloud Story would be that Cheryl Cole ends up getting dumped by her husband as she discovers he has a habit of shoving mobile phones up his arse!! You just couldn’t write it could ye? Mol

The Brits: Come Mime With Me

As many of my readers know, I mainly have a three-pronged attack since I starting writing my Blog. The first is X Factor, the second the lovable Razorshite and the third is The Brits. This week, the latter didn’t let me down! The first thing that got to me about this year Shit Awards is that the show was basically dominated by Americans in the shape of Lady (Gentleman) Ga Ga and Jay Z. Now, don’t get me wrong here, they are both pretty good at what they do and of course as we all know, terrific entertainers. They were also pretty good on the night. But why have a British Award ceremony dominated by American Artists? You wouldn’t se the same thing happen at The Grammies would you? The Shits are supposed to be a celebration of all things to do with British music. This year was also supposed to be a bout 30 years of British music. What better way to celebrate it by letting all the headlines taken by two Americans. So, what does the British contingent of the night’s entertainment have to offer? Well, we have Robbie ‘Past It’ Williams singing his usually medley of shit and drivel while he pulls them ridiculously punch able faces into every camera he can spot and the marvellous, wait for it … Cheryl ‘Ah Love Ye’ Cole! Is it just me or does Cheryl Cole ignite the inner demon in your soul and fill you with enough rage to explode a small planet? And to make matters worse, she fucking mimed!!!!! But, wait a minute chaps, this was no ordinary miming. Cole is very clever at deceiving the public as she rather cleverly sang the first few bars of her ‘performance’, the rest, she mimed. This gives the idea that she did actually sing. Maybe she should think about renaming her best known song to ‘Mine, Mine, Mine’? Either that or just simply fuck off the face of the earth instead? I’d much prefer the latter. If she does, I’d also love it if she took her husband with her. Let’s just hope they have a good mobile phone reception where ever they go eh? Secondly we come to JLS. A few people I work with have often wondered what JLS actually stands for. Jesus Loves Sex? Justifiably Lynched Singers? Or, the main favourite: Just Lousy Singers? Anyway, JLS seem to have found a new ‘inner rock star’ after Liam Gallagher’s stunning show of madness at The Shit Awards (more on that later). Anyway, I was listening to an interview with JLS on the morning after The Shits and one of them in a rather frenzied state of over excited ness went on to say “in all the excitement, I decided to break one of the chairs, I can’t wait to see the footage of that” (they then all went on to giggle like young girls walking around Liverpool One). Well fuck me, Keith Moon will be shaking in his pit at the possibility of someone taking over from his hell raising mantle!! Who ever said rock n roll was dead should thank god for JLS that it’s not. Party on, Garth Thirdly, Peter Kay is about as funny as washing your shells in a sink full of acid Fourthly I’d just like to mention Kasabian. Kasabian are always the band who turn up at The Shits that no one else wants to be seen having their photo taken with as they’re a bit ‘rag tag and bob tail’, a bit ‘urchin-like’, a bit ‘outlandish’ (I think you get the picture). So, I have a question for the lads from the Black Country: why were you so happy to receive an award (best British Group) when The Shits is the exact establishment they have been so against in the past? Why the sudden ‘sucking up to the man’? It’s amazing how quick people can sell out as soon as someone waves a piece of metal stuck onto a piece of wood under their noses that’s guaranteed a few extra thousand sales at the tills isn’t it? I’ve personally lost a bit of respect for them after the other night. As for Tom Meighan’s impression of a flying trapeze artist, that deserved an award itself! Quality, that lad Finally we come to the main even of the evening: Liam ‘Pantomime Horse’ Gallagher!! Hahaha, I’m still laughing at it now about it to be honest. Would anyone like to take a guess at who he was actually aiming the award at? It couldn’t have been Noel as he wasn’t there (probably in bed with a cup of hot milk). Lady Ga Ga? Nah, it would have just bounced off her outfit. Robbie Williams/ Nah, it would have bounced off his ego. Roll on next year for: Liam Gallagher; Outstanding Nutcase Award presented by a certain R Willaims from Stoke and then thrown at a certain C Cole from Newcastle’s head? I really can’t wait for that! Mol

All Together Now

What’s the most important (and enjoyable) part of a song? The music? The band? The Lyrics? Nope. All wrong I’m afraid. The answer, my dear readers is the good old fashioned chorus I was walking to work the other day and decided to check out the media player facilities on my new phone. As I walked past the hoards of little wastes of sperm who attend the local school by my house I was listening to, amongst others: ‘Jessie’s Girl’ by Rick Springfield and ‘Losing Touch’ by The Killers. And, as what always happens here, I was caught ‘singing’ by a rather startled un-suspecting member of the public! Poor bastard (Good job he wasn’t trimming his back bush eh? - haha) Anyway, after subjecting several more members of the public to my god awful singing on my trek to work, I realised that the afore mentioned Killers song has one of the most outstanding choruses I’ve ever heard in years. And it got me thinking: what is the best chorus ever written? So, as I always do when I’ve fuck all else to write about, I decided to compile a bit of a list Here’s a few of my choices: Jumping Jack Flash – The Rolling Stones: “but it’s aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwlriiiiiiiiight now, in fact it’s a gaaaaasss, but it’s aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwlriiiiiiiight, I’m jumpin jack flash it’s a gas! Gas! Gas!” Great song that also contains one of the finest opening lines in any song ever written: “I was born in a cross fire hurricane” – superb stuff. This was also the turning moment when The Stones switched from mainstream pop to the more ‘darker’ side of their famed persona. Notoriety beckoned! Paradise City – Guns ‘N Roses: “take me down to the Paradise City, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty” Classic example of the all-American bravado the chaps from G’N’R portrayed in their stage shows (although, may I point out, the video for this song was filmed during their warm up act for Aerosmith). Good example of an ‘all together now’ chorus The Rat – The Walkmen. “youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu’ve got a nerve to be asking a favour/youuuuuuuuuuuuu’ve got a nerve to be calling my number” This is hardly a ‘chorus’, but it’s worth a shout due to the pure spine-tingling way the song is actually sung by the fantastic Front Man of The Walkmen: Hamilton Leithhauser. Superb bit of drumming as well. But, as great as all of the above songs really are, there is really no contest. This is obviously a personal point of view of mine here, but the finest chorus ever written has to be without a single shadow of a doubt: Highway to Hell by the Great, Monolithic AC/DC So … “Hey mamma, look at me, I’m on my way to the promise land, WOW!! … … I’M ON THE HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHWAY TO HELL!!!!!!!” Get it listened to Mol

For Pete's Sake!!!

About five years ago a band from London shot onto the music scene with all the outlaw images and iconic camaraderie Keith Richards would be proud of. That band was The Libertines. Like Blur ten years earlier they were concerned about our American cousins (The Strokes, White Stripes, Kings of Leon, The Killers, etc, etc) coming over here and ‘taking our jobs’ – if you know what I mean? The Libertines gave it a good stab and released one of the finest albums of the decade in ‘Up the Bracket’. Since then, it’s all gone a bit tits-up for the most famous Libertine of them all: the much troubled Pete Doherty I was reading a rather interesting article about Peter (as he likes to be knows as now) the other day. The man really has got nine lives Doherty is a rather colourful character that has basically got away with more convictions (22 times he’s been ‘let off’ from court appearances by the way of paying a measly fine) is hardly one to shy away from the eyes of the media and to honest here, you could say he’s a rather bad sort. So, why lately are there so many people popping up with stories about his alleged association with two recently deceased people? The evidence seems pretty circumstantial against Doherty, but somehow the finger of blame is always pointed firmly in his direction when ever anything bad happens. Known to many people in and around the London underground party scene, as ‘The Pied Piper’, Doherty is fast becoming a bad luck charm to people who hang around with him. The recent cases of Robyn Whitehead and Marc Blanco are the two examples I read about in the above mentioned article. Blanco, who bizarrely enough fell from a 1st floor window that was occupied at the time by Doherty and some of his cronies, was actually putting on a play entitled “The Accidental Death of an Anarchist”. How’s that for a twist of fate? Anyway, both of the above rather unfortunate souls died in mysterious circumstances with, it has to be said, rather tenuous links to Doherty if you ask me! But then again, as we have seen recently with the John Terry scandal = some people pursue the press for money and, it has to be said here, money. Doherty, I feel, doesn’t seek the media attention, but, because of his shenanigans, I just feel the media ‘seek him’! A marriage of convenience wouldn’t you say? Now, I know your thinking here about what could possibly be my point? Well it’s this: Peter Doherty is not a priest, he’s not a baby sitter, he’s not a premiership football player and he’s definitely without a shadow of a doubt no saint. In short, he’s no role model. What he is though is a bad arse rock star that lives his life very much on the darker side of life and if that’s how he wishes to live his life, so be it! I don’t think he’s after praise from his peers, he’s not after a knighthood and he’s certainly not after a presenter’s job on Blue Peter. He just wants to be left the fuck alone to get on with his own life no matter how debauched he may wishes it to get! As for Doherty’s interest in what made him famous in the first place: music. I feel he’s not really interested in that anymore and that his one true love, sadly, is drugs. Bit of a waste if you ask me as before he started taking the more serious drugs (Heroin, Crack, etc, etc) it has to be said: he was one of British Music’s shining lights that took on the ‘American Invasion’, sadly, as the lyrics in one of his goes: “The boy kicked out at the world, but the world kicked back” Best leave him to it if you ask me Mol