Will Someone Please Turn That Bloody Rubbish Off!
At the risk of coming over as a tad pompous and holier than thou I have to admit that I cannot find it within myself to enjoy the music of any band or artist that I consider to be in any way, shape or form of the asshole persuasion…and hearing the first couple of bars of any said musicians rancid output generally has me careening across the room (regardless of whoever might be in the way) in search of the dump switch.
For example, I accept that Ol’ Blue Eyes might very well have been the greatest crooner of his generation but are there not a whole stack of biographies literally brimming over with tales that suggest he was not exactly the nicest person that ever walked the face of the planet? Indeed there are, and I have to admit therefore that I try to avoid his music whenever possible.
Likewise the Fall, whose Mark E. Smith can apparently “smell a vegetarian a mile off”…and who, in Uncut magazine recently boasted about exterminating some squirrels in his back garden. Needless to say he is very much off the Sensible playlist also–anyway us vegetarians smell just fine than you very much…apart from maybe the occasional time when we might have overdone it on the cabbage…which reminds me of a joke I heard this week:
Old lady in a department store lift, doors open and two rich women walk in. One says to the other “Smell that? Christian Dior! $100/oz.” The other says “Smell that? Chanel No.5! $120/oz.” Old lady farts and says “Smell THAT? Brussel Sprouts! .50/lb.”
But enough of that–where was I? Oh yes…records by people I would rather not have my ears defiled by–and the reason I am harping on about it here is that while out for a soiree with some chums the other day, and just after the waiter had delivered a fancy selection of drinks, my ears detected a sound that was most definitely NOT welcome–Phil Collins. Whichever song of his it was I do not recall but it was followed by another…and another. We were commencing a greatest hits tirade…my heart sank.
I’m sure you’ve all been through that one–out with friends in a nice little bar or whatever and you’re just getting settled in and they start playing your least favorite muso–you know, the one that gives you feelings of nausea and the commencement of a foul mood. I hope you bloody well complain–I always do!
You see it’s all very well suggesting (as has been done many a time over the years) that I just ignore the muzak and get on with the task in hand–i.e., enjoying oneself, but as any musician will tell you–for us that would be an impossibility as we register every key change, analyze every drum fill, etc…even at background music volumes. And there are plenty of drum fills in Phil’s work. Boy does he love his paradiddles…or whatever it is they call them in the drummer fraternity.
But it’s not his skin bashing that pisses me off but more important stuff, like when he described punk as being “worthless”…which is a bit rich coming from a bloke in a band famous for nonsensical lyrics…like this Genesis classic “six saintly shrouded men walk across the lawn slowly…a seventh walks in front, cross held high in hand.” Not particularly relevant to a working class youngster in a council estate–in fact I’d go as far as saying that it was the likes of Genesis and Yes that more or less inspired punk, seeing as we had buggerall to identify with there–the only option being to do it yourself…which was pretty much the battle cry of the class of ‘77!
There is ONE thing I like about Collins though…he did put his money where his mouth is when he quit the UK–like he’d promised to do if the Conservatives got booted out of power in the 1997 election. Britain’s loss is Switzerland’s gain…a nice country where the people dress smartly and the trains run on time. Oh, and the taxes are low too…do you think that might have occurred to Phil and any of the other multi-millionaires who relocated to their mountainous retreat?
Of course nobody likes paying bloody taxes, and our scurrilous politicians seem to think there’s no limit to how much of our cash can be grabbed, whether through the IRS or via the cash registers. But this is not the case in Switzerland that leaves its citizens a far larger chunk of their earnings to spend as they see fit. Could the reason be that the Swiss government spends an absolute pittance each year on defense having long ago declared itself a neutral (i.e., peaceful) country–thus negating the purchase of any of the prohibitively costly military equipment required for warfare these days. Give everybody a Swiss Army Knife and a bicycle and tell them to cause havoc if anyone invades was the general idea–and the payoff is the low tax regime which seems to be rather popular with the celebrity tax exile set.
Contrast this to certain other Western governments who are currently in the process of further increasing the already vast amounts they are squandering on their disastrous follies in the Middle East…no wonder all the Fat Cats are stashing their cash abroad where it can’t be confiscated and turned into F-22 Raptors at $300 million a pop.
I sincerely hope that as the wine waiter uncorks a celebratory bottle of bubbly at the Collins local that Phil’s ears prick up…after someone with a sense of humor changes the piped music…and put on possibly his least favorite. THE DAMNED!
Captain Sensible is the guitarist of rabble rousers the Damned who kick started the UK punk scene of 1977 along with the Clash and the Sex Pistols, with whom they shared many a stage. Highly rated examples of the Damned on vinyl are “Damned Damned Damned” and “Machine Gun Etiquette”, the latter of which combined their rifftastic version of punk rock with a generous dollop of pysychedelia–a common theme in Mr. Sensible’s work. Mr. S also had a successful (if unlikely) solo career in the ’80s and toured the USA as a rap artist (I kid you not…) when his single “Wot” found itself high in the Billboard Dance Charts. He recently formed his own political organisation, The Blah! Party, as a direct result of Tony Blair’s warmongering. Captain is still touring with the Damned who are planning some recording soon–so if there’s any labels out there……
www.captainsensible.com
Few musical artists can claim the sheer volume of releases as The Fall. The Manchester-based post-punk group’s only constant throughout its 30 years of existence, Mark E. Smith, is the group’s signature component, delivering a sharp, withering litany of vocal scrutiny to all who entertain his presence, across an estimable 95 albums and countless singles. But Smith’s latest target has raised the collective eyebrow of animal lovers throughout England.
The Daily Mail reports that, in a recent interview given to Uncut magazine, the 51-year-old performer claims to have murdered a handful of red squirrels outside of his home, a statement that has raised concern with the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (RSPCA). “Squirrels mean nothing to me,” bragged Smith. “I killed a couple last weekend actually. They were eating my garden fence.” Egged on by Uncut interviewer Ben Marshall, Smith later endorsed the mowing down of seagulls by automobile.
In either case, this is a bizarre turn of phrase by a man who’s no stranger to…well, to bizarre turns of phrase. But this one might have legal ramifications. Red squirrels are on the endangered species list in the United Kingdom, and if Smith is found guilty of this offense, he stands to face up to six months in prison and/or a fine of up to £20,000, under the Wildlife and Countryside Act.
This comes as a shock to yours truly, as The Fall is this humble writer’s favorite band. They’re also one which I have no desire to interact with, so here’s hoping that by writing up this piece, Smith finds no occasion to come after me with garden shears, a car, a rake, a pint glass, or whatever he’s got handy at the time.