The Axe of The X And the Fall of The West

Isn’t it amazing how the shit always sinks to the bottom? Strange world isn’t it?

This week we’ve seen the return of The Stone Roses, the hilarious demise of Take Splatt courtesy of Robbie Williams doing yet another runner from his bum chums and Noel Gallagher at the top of the album pile.

All of the above I can take or leave to be honest as Take Splatt are nothing short of an over-camp cabaret act hell bent on creating an entire arena full of damp crotches (male and female underwear applies by the way), Noel Gallagher has always been good for a quick, witty quote, but in my opinion has always had something ‘of the night’ about him (maybe he is a grumpy arld git after all) and The Stones Roses I could take or leave so I wasn’t really jumping through hoops about there inevitable (cash inspired) reunion.

By the way, if you’ve just bought a ticket for six million pounds to see them play when they eventually embark on their rather ambitious World Tour, have a look on YouTube at some of their liver performances. The words terrible, out of key and out of time spring to mind! But, maybe it is a victory for Indie Music so the best of luck to the Mancs on that one!

But, (and it’s a real massive BUT) most pleasing to myself had to be the rather splendid news about the death of Westlife (sadly not violent) and, most funny of all, X Factor slipping into obscurity and (hopefully) off country’s psyche for good!

First off, I’d like to mention the picture at the top of this blog. YES! It is a poster I put up over my desk in word! An NO! It hasn’t worked!

But, the most significant result about Westlife and X Factor decaying into the bowels of history is that people are maybe becoming pretty sick of people singing cover versions which, basically, is what the two of these entities have lived off for the last decade and a bit!

Another (far fetched) theory I have with regards people turning off from X Factor to turn over to watch a bag of shit period drama such as Downton Abbey is that there has been a lot of tension simmering in this country since our beloved gang of merry millionaires ceased control of the country last year. You only have to look at last years ……..

But, I’m afraid it’s not all good news! A few months back when X Factor started up with the ferocious Gary Barlow, the ever increasing camp Louis Walsh and two other birds I’ve never heard of in my like, I commented to Mrs Mol that if (even when) their ratings goes down, Cowell will be immediately on the blower to Ms Cheryl (“ah luv ye”) Cole-Tweedy to boost the ratings! And, there is even the chance the Prince of Darkness Cowell will make an appearance himself! In a sense, I think it’s very clever if that is what he resorts to as one thing it’ll guarantee is that it’ll boost his TV ratings

Then again, you really can’t polish a turd can ye?

Mol

Balmy Bono And His Shady Lyrics

As well as music being extremely enjoyable, I’ve always took a keen interest in what people are actually singing about. Whether they are about love, hate, war or good old seedy shag, I’ve always enjoyed lyrics

So, having rather bizarrely got back into U2 in a sort of biggish way lately as I used to be quite into them when I was in school, (and yes, I did have a Bono-style mullet minus the sideys) I have, as you can guess, been questioning the forever young Bono and his rather outrageous lyrics and asked myself one question:

Have U2 made a career out of nonsense?

Now I know all bands that have spanned a good few decades during their careers do go on to develop and ‘experiment’ with their music (unless you are AC/DC of course). It’s their right of course, but in the case of U2 it seems they are either running out of ideas or having a mid-life crisis (no doubt Bono is browsing through a Porsche catalogue as we speak)

Now, as most avid readers of Mol’s Sound Words know, Bono isn’t really my favourite person in the world. This is mainly down to the fact that he still insists on wearing leather kex and his sunglasses in doors even though he is shaking hands with the Pope or other worldly dignitaries (I’ve often wondered if he wears them while he’s having a Michael Knight, but the less said about that the better). But, in the early eighties U2 were without doubt a fine band with their main topic of lyrics obviously about the troubles that surrounded Ireland/Northern Ireland. Very interesting stuff I’m sure we all agree

“And so we're told this is the golden age and gold is the reason for the wars we wage” – New Years Day

“And the battle's just begun, There's many lost, but tell me who has won, the trench is dug within our heart, and mothers, children, brothers, sisters Torn apart” - Sunday Bloody Sunday

Now, if you compare some of the above older lyrics to these examples you can see what I mean when I say the art of writing good lyrics have sadly (in U2’s case) gone by the wayside!!

“The future needs a big kiss, wind blows with a twist” - Get on your Boots

“Scorch the earth, set fire to the sky, and you reach so low, to reach so high – Red Hill Mining Town”

“Car alarm won't let ya back to sleep, You're kept awake dreaming someone else's dream Coffee is cold, but it'll get you through Compromise, that's nothing new to you” - Electrical storm

So, as I said before, have they ran out of ideas is or are they, quite frankly, not arsed any more? I personally think they have become ‘too big’ and instead of taking their time in writing deep and meaningful lyrics like they did in the early days, they have resorted to what can only be described as something you’d expect from a fat and bloated Elvis in his latter Las Vegas days with pathetic offerings such as Sexy Boots and other assorted crap from their last offering! (and yes, I do have thoughts of Bono dying on the bog while he’s strangling a massive fucking brown one!!)

But it’s not all bad!

Which bring me to what I would regard as U2’s finest album – The Joshua Tree. Now don’t get me wrong here, it is, as I have said, a damn fine album.

Musically it really can’t be faulted! Not just because of the more famous hits like Where the Streets Have No Name, With or Without You and I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For, but more of the songs on the B Side like Red Hill Mining Town, One Tree Hill and Tripped Through Your Wires. They are fantastic songs.

BUT! As the topic of this blog states, the lyrics on The Joshua Tree are utter and total nonsense!! Maybe Bono had spent too much time in The Joshua Tree searching for the soul of Gram Parsons or Jim Morrison while drinking the juice from a few moody cactus trees! Who knows!

What I do know is this: some people you’d expect to write utterly shit lyrics, their usually the pathetic factory-processed pop stars who finish 18^th on X Factor, not the likes of seasoned pro’s like U2

They are capable of much better

So, Bono, see me after school!

And take them stupid FUCKING shades off!!

Mol

There Ain't No Sex Without the Sax!

Having recently been on my honeymoon (or holiday as I liked to call it) I have had to, sometimes during rare spells indoors nursing a hangover (and a semi), had to endure the rather unpleasant foreign music channels that play songs by the likes of Katie Perry, that annoying beaut from The Black eyed Peas (Will-I-Am-A-Knob-head) and Lady Gag Gag

But, one thing I noticed when a certain song by Sade appeared is that there seems to be no place these days in modern pop or rock music for the humble Saxophone!

This is an outrage!!!!

Now, as I have mentioned, my ‘holiday’ was of course supposed to be about romance and stuff like that (that doesn’t of course my eyes being pre-occupied by certain Swedish Ladies scantily dressed in bikinis that resemble a handkerchief), but I couldn’t help thinking about the instrument of love (and I’m not talking about my Carrots and Onions)

So, in honour of the SEX-aphone, here are a few beauties for you to listen to (with your bird/fella, of course) to maybe re-ignite your deep rooted (ahem) affection with the wonderful brass section carthorse to help you along during a hot session of sexy time with your nearest and dearest

Miss You – the Stones

Money – Pink Floyd

Never tear us apart - INXS

Avalon – Roxy Music

Modern Love – David Bowie

We don’t need another hero – Tina Turn-Off

So, there you have it. All hail the marvellous Saxophone! The most alluring, under-rated, sexy and sometimes downright outrageous instrument to ever grace music!

Better than playing the double bass any day of the week

Mol

X-Rated Dirty Gary

So, Gary Barlow is the new ‘Hard Man’ of pop! So hard, in fact, that you’d think he was the new Ken Barlow throwing a few punches at Mike Baldwin in the Rovers Return Inn!!

Barlow, in case you didn’t know, has taken over from the tight-kex-wearing Simon Cowell (big trousers to fill as well) and turned into the nasty one who rips into the occasional X Factor spastic who sings like Chewbacca having his shells waxed! (All for the cameras, no doubt)

This one time Softy and all round raging quilt of a Manc who you would gladly take home to your while she was watching Downton abbey has now developed a tough shell (and attitude) with a good old Chuck Norris beard to boot!

Personally I think he’s about a scary as a gerbil wearing a skin-tight pink nappy!

But what gets me about this new ‘image’ Barlow has suddenly developed is, in my opinion, to maybe score a few brownie points with the Indie and Rock crowd as x Factor has always had some sort of ‘Rock Act’ within the ranks of the afore mentioned spastics desperate for fame!

So, what suddenly prompts these pop stars to shed their teeny bopper skin and turn into a raging grizzly bear? No doubt money and sponsorship are behind these decisions taken by them (and their team of advisors). Just look at Iggy Pop for example with his rather embarrassing Swift Cover adverts, Ozzy Osborne with his even more ridiculous series recorded for MTV a few years back, and, as I noticed a few weeks back in Madrid Airport, Julian Casablancas’ after shave called ‘decibel’

Personally, I think if you have an image that millions of your adoring fans love, I think you should stick to it as the words “sell out” will hover over you for the rest of your career no matter how successful you go on to be

So, do us a favour, Gaz, put away the new found ‘act’ you’re putting on as we all know you’re a big pussy cat deep down and we simply don’t buy it for one minute as we all know: “Everything changes but you”

Anyone?

Oh well, at least get a shave ... Chuck!

Mol

Good Gigs, Bad Gigs

Before I go on, the title of this Blog is not about a certain Man United Player’s performances between the sheets with certain members of his family. Ahem!

Just read a super article about bad gig experiences from musicians and journalists around the world. Funniest one by far had to be the story about The Loves tragic end. If you don’t know about it, have a read here. It’s rather superb. As for the story about Ian Anderson from Jethro Tull, I can only imagine how arse-splittingly funny it must have been to see someone throw piss over the old hippy

So, I thought I’d share a few intimate ‘moment’s we had during our days in Intermajic. Enjoy

The Pit, Duke Street, Early 1999

This place really did live up to its name! I think it was the old Pink Parrot. What a fucking hole! Amongst our list of songs we used to do a slow-ish number called ‘Rest Your Head’ and needless to say it was going down a storm! (hahaha, extreme sarcasm).

Half way through the aforementioned song a member of the audience approached me (luckily I knew her so her chances of being booted in the head were minimal) and said “Dave, drop it man, its shit”. I actually took note and cut the song half way through much to the relief of my co-members. The song never re-surfaced again, thank fuck.

After that the small matter of electrocuting myself, fusing the microphone and having a hairy debate with ‘the owner’ of the club for not paying us topped off a pretty grim night!

Needless to say we never returned! Blessing in disguise really as I’ve never walked up such a steep, dangerous, slippery flight of stairs in my life!

The Cavern, Liverpool, 1990-something

We used to enjoy playing The Cavern as they supplied you with super amps and we were quite friendly with the Norwegian guy who did the sound even though he was making rather un-wanted (homo)sexual advances towards Ben (must have thought he was a fellow Nordic/Teutonic)

Anyway the day started with us arriving early with The Cavern shut! As we’re waiting outside we were approached by an old Chap of The Street looking for a ciggie! What he really need though was a place to have a burst as we noticed that he had holes in his shoes with the vilest BROWN piss trickling down his leg and gushing out of them! The day was obviously doomed to failure!

When The Cavern finally opened its doors we we’re befriended by a superb bunch of chaps who went by the name of Llama. After chatting for a bit, their rather ‘colourful front man, Ralph decided to skin up and pass a spliff around. St this point, the strange Norwegian chap managed to avert his eyes away from Ben’s Buns and notice Ralph’s spliff. Llama we’re off the bill and told to leave. We managed to stay thanks to some marvellous diplomacy courtesy of yours truly! So we went the pub to take stock!

When it was our slot to go on we had been in the pub for a lot longer that we anticipated and were pretty pissed! So, we went on … pissed! During our set or maybe backstage (I’m not really sure what happened, you’ll have to ask Mart) Mart got into some sort of ‘disagreement’ with some Peninsula Wools who were drafted in place of the aforementioned Llama. So, what does Mart do on stage? That’s right; he offers them all out (including their fans that outnumbered ours)

The night ended in failure, put a possible war between The Wirral and the rest on the Sane World of Merseyside was thankfully averted! Funny day even though the war rages on!

King George’s Playing Fields, 2000-something

We’d been asked by some nuttier who worked for Knowsley Council (Dave Something) to do a gig to try and save The Georgies from having houses built on them. God knows why as it was probably them who approved the planning permission!!

Anyway, we ended up doing this out side gig to the great and the good people of Huyton. The sun was shining and reflecting of the millions of Lacoste Trackies scattered amongst the field (Kidda Stock, if you will). Stuey’s arld fella even turned up (“Hello Dave! Nervous!!?? Chin up lad, chin up”)

Don’t really remember much about the gig itself except an old mate of mine called ‘Dec’ turning up and giving me a little bit of acceptable abuse (banter). As it was a long day and the free cans of Skol were flowing down nicely I was feeling rather pissed. After another bout of banter from Dec I decided to get my own back and shouted “alright Dec lad, you look dead skinny mate, you haven’t got AIDS have ye?”

Now the people of Huyton are very tolerant to political correctness, sadly the council isn’t. That was the last time we did anything from Knowlsey council. I personally think the chaps should have thanked me for that!

Either way, tumble weeds were flowing and the look of dissatisfaction and head shaking from Stuey’s dad towards me sealed a pretty bad day at the office for us

Then again, at least the locals from The Quiet Man didn’t turn up

There are many more stories I can’t think of right now, but if they spring to mind I’m sure I can bring them to the wonders of the world wide web some day

Night night children

Mol

Geek Yanks Love Chic The Mancs

Sorry it’s been a while chaps. Been sorting out my pre-nuptials! (My missus is gonna be made up with my CD collection if we ever divorce!!) hahaha

Anyhow, just been reading yet another glamorous story about The Smiths and certain peoples continuing fascination with them! Yawn yawn fucking yawn!

The article in question is about a bunch of American publishers who have decided to write about (what they interpret) The Smiths’ songs were about. Really baffles me about what some hack from across the pond really knows what Morrissey and Marr were writing about! It also got me wondering of our dear ‘cousins’ across the pond really knew what ‘The Boy With the Thorn in His Side’ or ‘Panic’ was really about?

The story continued depicting the likes of Morrissey and Marr as some sort of bizarre super hero comic book characters. Batman meets Mozza, I suppose you could say? Either way, it sounds like a bunch of Yank geeks who have randomly picked out The Smiths from one of their mate’s CD collection to gain notoriety

But, what really got me about this article is obviously how interested the general public in the old U S and A are in this band from ‘Plucky Old En-ger-land’? Could they really give a shit about The Smiths singing about a cold and wet Manchester during the Thatcher era or The Singer’s opinions on Vegetarianism or subversive homosexuality while they’re sat on their big fat arses in their chequered three quarter length shorts tucking into a giant Burger King the size of their heads in thirty degree heat? Yeah, gonna be a real big seller in Stateside that is it?

But, going back to it, is it me or do some people still fucking bang on about Manchester bands like The Stone Roses and The Smiths with a degree of ‘romance’ that strangely enough (IMO) borders on stalking and over fantasising? You’d think at times they were talking about The Messiah or (sorry about the pun) the second coming of Christ the way some people still ‘hold a flame’ for them

If it’s not some manc from Wythenshawe called Gary (or Gaz) rabbiting on about how culturally important Salford Boys Club was (to Morrissey’s ‘alternative’ fantasies, of course) it’s some other blert from Whalley Range banging on about how great The Hacienda (or “Haciendo!!) was!

1^ST hypocritical moment:

Now, I know most people may well be reading this and calling me a hypocrite with my fierce association and defence of all things to do with The Stones, Led Zep, AC/DC, Bowie, etc, etc, but, I think there is a rather partisan attitude towards the likes of The Smiths and The Stone Roses that sort of makes me wonder if these people do realise that there are other regional bands and sounds out there that could easily be explored instead of burying your head in all things that were once ‘great’ about Manchester!

2^nd hypocritical moment:

Everyone knows my home town is Liverpool and pretty much everyone on the planet is aware of a certain rock n roll sensation at the start of the sixties called The Beatles. These four chaps went onto claim the title as one of the most influential bands of all time ALL AROUND the world (including America, not just Liverpool). And that’s my point: America is a big place and everyone who lives there has, at some point in their lives, heard their music …

… Unlike The Smiths.

Then again, what difference does it make?

Ahem!

Mol

Glastonbury Headliners and their Lack of Tax

Really sorry to bang on about this, and I know it’s been finished for about a week, but Glastonbury this year has seriously grinded on my fucking balls in a rather special way!!!

As for the headliners, Jesus fucking wept! I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a dreary bunch if miserable bastards in my life! I’d rather watch Ken fucking Barlow scratch his left ear all night while drinking half a bitter ... “Deidre”

Number one: U Fucking 2. As a mate of mine text me the other day: If only god was watching and decided to conjure up a mix of bad luck, rain and a live stage! Bonio’s kex would have blew off and ended up on the Weymouth coast! As for their music, i can only describe it as being nothing short of drab! And you can’t put that down to nerves as U2 have played in every venue under the sun across the globe! Maybe they have finally realised how fucking gash and middle-of-the-road they really are and decided to not give a shit anymore! Here hoping anyway!

Number 2: Warmplay. I don’t know if anyone noticed, but the end of their set was a stroke of pure marketing genius! Fix You was the obvious choice for last song, but, straight afterwards when you expected them to do their completely embarrassing bow, they went straight into a “new song” at which point the hands were no longer waving in the air and everyone was looking at each other with ‘what the fuck’ looks all over their Chevvy Chases saying “is this a new one?”After that, most people decided to fuck off back to their tents for a spliff and a shag no doubt. Very un-Warmplay like if you ask me!

And finally about Warmplay, why is it they feel they have to have Jay Z at the front of the stage for every time they play? Yet more examples of a band caring too much about who they are seen with instead of actually (trying) to entertain!

Number 3: Beyonce. This really did make me laugh. You could almost imagine the clientele for her crowd now: Sunglasses the size of wind farms, eye lashes the size of a golden eagle’s wing, wooden high heels 18ft tall and Wayne Rooney walking behind all seventeen of them (on a lead, of course) while they are screaming “eeeeeeeeeee, gerroutdefuckingwayyefuckinghippyd’youknowwhoiam???” .

As for her music, if there was ever an artist that didn’t belong on the Glastonbury stage, I’m afraid its her. Her set reminded me of Kylie Minougue a few years back: good pop music, but just not the right place to be singing it! It’s also a good that she actually played when the sun went down as there was probably a good chance her arse would have blocked the sun out! Oooh! Ye bitch!

Number 4: Celebrities! Jesus fucking Christ on a unicycle! Why the fuck do these people matter and why do other people think they are so important to modern day society that they must have fifteen camera crews following them with one camera crew actually filming the bands??? It’s really becoming an obsession of mine to the point that I can’t look at one without feeling the urge to gip everywhere!

Finally, Number 5: Michael Eavis. Here is a man who pledged before the festival started that he would “get back in touch with grass roots fans” of Glastonbury and do away with the likes of Kate Moss and all the other flunkies I mentioned in my previous blog. So, what does up-side-head do? That’s right; he creates their own little village! Celebrityville (as it might have been called) was created (under top secret, of course) to cater for the needs of the great and the good and other Z-list bell ends so they didn’t have to mix with the great un-washed and could lord it safe in the knowledge their £2000 bottle of champagne didn’t fall into the wrong hands

This, for me, shows that Eavis is a complete hypocrite!

And while we’re on the subject of hypocrisy, I’d just like to point out another boo boo from Mr Eavis. For years he has stood behind campaign groups who stand up for people’s right such as the likes of Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth. So, why is it when a group like UK Uncut decide to put up a banner protesting against U2’s alleged tax evasion, he sends in the heavies and has it removed! Can’t be upsetting Bonio and his gang of sunglass wearing whoppers now can we Michael

I think it’s really time you did get back to the basics of what a festival should be mate:

Music, people and fun!

Fuck the money, hype and the bleeding celebrities!

Mol