Tuesday 23 October 2018

Easter “Meander Lines” (Super Smash Hit Records)


The break up of a long term relationship is often traumatic but Easter wordsmith Tom Long has channelled all the tragedy, trauma and regret into the ten songs on their second album. The band also suffered a break up of sorts, as shortly after recording the album bassist Rich Clarke moved to Mexico, although rumours he was helping build a wall are untrue.  He was quickly replaced by Joel Nicholson who also plays in Chew Magna and Butcher the Bar and can sometimes be found selling CDs in Vinyl Exchange in Manchester’s Northern Quarter. Danny Saul who played guitar on their first album also once worked at Vinyl Exchange, so as far as I’m aware they are the only band from Manchester to have had two members work at that shop. When Danny left Rich’s older brother Gavin switched from bass to guitar. Now it looks as if drummer Andrew Cheetham could be on the way out, as he’s also drumming for Kiran Leonard and finding it hard to fit in both bands’ schedules. Losing Andrew would be a terrible blow, as he’s one of the best drummers in Manchester and plays with a fluid dexterity matched by few. I hope he decides to continue drumming for Easter, as he really makes the drums roll in a way few can. Easter’s first full length album is one of the three best I’ve heard from a Manchester band in 2018 and Easter are always great live. Enough of the soap opera, what about the songs? Tom Long is a wounded romantic poet and has some vocal and lyrical similarities with David Gedge of The Wedding Present, but Easter are a much more sonically interesting band. The first song “I Lost My Pen” is a regretful ode to the memory of a lost love, as are most of the others. Another reoccurring lyrical theme is clothes and here Tom “filled five bags of clothes for the homeless down the road.” The metaphor of clothes and changing clothes occurs frequently to denote life changes. Tom’s lyrics are nicely poetic but it’s his guitar playing that is really at the heart of what makes Easter great. An avowed Yo La Tengo fan, Tom shares with Ira Kaplan the capacity to wrench every emotive impulse from a wild guitar solo that sounds like the kind of thing Lou Reed would heartily approve of if he wasn’t dead. Maybe Neil Young would dig it if he gave it a listen in his hippy car on his way to feed cows grass. My favourite song is the album’s biggest rocker, the desperate “Suicide Kiss,” which was almost scrapped along with a few other songs. I seem to recall that my enthusiasm for that particular song convinced Tom to keep developing it as it almost got the chop. “Suicide Kiss” was released as a download single with a non-album companion “No End in Sight” which anyone who likes the album should download immediately from bandcamp as it’s certainly good enough to have been on the vinyl only album. The only problem with that is there isn’t a song weak enough to ditch in favour of it.
Easter play Gullivers on Oldham Street in Manchester on Thursday (25th October) with Paul Fleischman on drums. It’s seven quid to hear them and Omit Sleep and you can buy a ticket for that price (no rip off fees) from the bar at Gullivers.

Monday 22 October 2018

"To Throw Away Unopened" by Viv Albertine


I’d certainly recommend Viv Albertine’s second book “To Throw Away Unopened” despite the fact that she often takes a statistically infinitesimal sample of men to extrapolate (sometimes inadvertent) generalisations about how all men behave. Like her book about punk rock her honesty about herself is almost embarrassing, but this is the thing that makes the story of her dysfunctional family so interesting. Both parents wrote diaries over the same period leading up to their divorce and Viv only read them after they had died. She began to question her own memories of events reading her abusive father’s diary but then realised he was telling a lot of lies whilst reading her mother’s version of events. My favourite part is on page 192 when she recounts the tale of a “posh twat” taking up two seats on a bus and demanded he let her sit down as there were no other seats left. Their minor altercation got to the point where he stopped the bus with the emergency button and called the police but the bus driver and other passengers ganged up on him and he made a total arse of himself. Another bit I was amused by was when she heard an old Neil Young song from the 1970 but mistook it for a wonderful new music sung by a woman and was disappointed. Why should Neil Young’s gender or the age of the song matter? Neil Young certainly seems like a much nicer man than any of the men Viv has been involved with in her story, and stands as a pretty good example of a man who probably isn’t the way Viv sees men. Then again, maybe it was the fact that the mystery song was recorded in 1970 that she found disappointing. Chorlton library has a copy you can borrow and they’re selling it at Piccadilly Records.

Wednesday 17 October 2018

How Not to Behave at a Low Concert in a Cathedral


“Oh no! We’re stood behind the most annoying man in the room!” said my friend after a couple of Low songs. “Just so long as he doesn’t sing along out of tune anymore it should be alright,” I replied, loud enough for the annoying man to hear. As well as humming out of tune, this oaf was wobbling from foot to foot getting in other people’s space around him, but not so much as to be more than a minor irritant. Much more annoying was his stupid habit of whooping like a girl at a Beatles gig during quiet parts of almost every song Low played, whilst EVERYONE else in the cathedral was respectfully silent. He was also so insecure he needed to keep babbling at his partner how fantastic and amazing Low were, in case maybe she might evaporate if he didn’t stop yacking at her. Of course being a boorish oaf he mostly did this in the quiet parts of the songs. I think it was during the quiet start of “Nothing but Heart” that I’d finally had enough and started hissing “Shut up!” at him. Next song he completely ruined the quiet build up by babbling words of praise during every gap between notes and I turned and told him to shut the fuck up. His partner told me not to be aggressive as he got all macho and started babbling, “What’s your problem? What’s your problem?” I’d just told the fool so I just made a shush gesture as he started disturbing EVERYONE else’s enjoyment of Low even more by babbling that I was “ridiculous” and “a cunt.” I turned away and ignored him, but between songs he started up again trying to pick a fight. His partner got between him and me and I turned my back and ignored the pillock. She told me I should move away. That wouldn’t have worked as he was shrieking so loud I’m sure everyone at the front could hear. What the hell is wrong with waiting until BETWEEN the songs to do this? No one else in the whole cathedral felt the need to behave in such an inconsiderate and moronic manner. “He’s enjoying himself,” she explained as if it was somehow impossible for this total arsehole to enjoy himself without whooping like a little girl on a swing. Then she tried a pathetic bit of emotional blackmail: “A friend of his who liked Low died recently!” So that meant I should put up with him spoiling the atmosphere with his bad manners? I hope he learned to appreciate live music without shrieking at the band, as I didn’t hear any more of his whooping during songs. I spotted a few people leaving near the front and took their place away from the whooping arsehole. Unaware of all this Alan Sparhawk told us towards the end that the previous night in Bristol there had been a fight down the front near bassist Steve Garrington. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if it was just one insecure macho prick who was making too much noise or shoving people and was told to stop who started it. If you are at a gig and you won’t shut up when asked to and try to start a fight over it then you are a grade A arsehole. I suppose I could have been more polite but that jerk had been annoying for most of the gig, whilst EVERYONE else nearby had been content to listen and show their appreciation BETWEEN songs. When Low finished with “Murderer” I couldn’t help thinking it would be nice to have a murderer finish off people who ruin quiet gigs by talking, whooping and being incapable of silent listening. Another top tip: if you’re going to piss off someone at a gig, try to make sure it isn’t someone who will write about it later. Better still have some consideration for everyone listening around you and respect for the artists and don’t ruin the music by babbling on during the songs. Talk and clap and whistle and shriek between the songs, unless you’re having a medical emergency.

Thursday 4 October 2018

The Legal Con of the Booking Fee

If you read my list of good gigs happening in Manchester you will have realised that I don’t like so called “booking fees” on gig tickets especially when they get so high that the “booking fee,” or rip off fee as I shall call it from now on, is higher than the ticket price of a cheap gig. For example I recently paid £3 to see Drink and Drive, yet the rip off fee for the Gang of Four gig is more than that. What is this fee for? Online ticket sellers are unnecessary middle men who need to be paid. It’s a legal scam almost as pernicious as the credit card. They make up their own terms and conditions and prices and screw extra money out of music fans for what? You get a guarantee that you’ll get into a gig, just in case it sells out. However if there were no pre-gig tickets then no gigs would sell out in advance, and if you were worried that a gig would sell out you’d have to turn up early. Of course this would lead to hilarious queues of eager fans forming days before some gigs so might not be such a great idea for certain larger gigs, but for smaller gigs there’s really no reason for not making them pay on the door only and ending this farce of ripping off music fans for the sake of promoter convenience and unnecessary middle man profiteering. Who really benefits from advance tickets aside from the online ticket sellers? It’s the gig promoter of course, and one seller (skiddle) does actually give the promoter the option of paying them the rip off fee themselves. This seems reasonable as there are at least four ways the promoter profits from advance tickets:

1.       They get your money sometimes months before you get to hear the live performance that you paid for.

2.       If someone can’t make the gig and a ticket goes unused, the promoter still gets the entrance fee. However this is a gross disadvantage for music fans as it means one less person will get into a sold out event for every unused ticket, and the venue won’t actually be at legal capacity.

3.       The promoter does not have to make physical tickets or make much effort to sell them. This saves them time and money, yet this saving has been passed on to the music fan in a legal racket that has become normalised.

4.       The promoter has less cash to handle at the gig entrance, so there is less risk of theft.

So if you’re putting on a smaller gig for the love of music, why not consider NOT doing what the big money promoters do? Why not make it pay on the door only like the Eliminator and Aggressive Perfector gig at The Peer Hat?
At the very least it would be nice if promoters would be honest about the entrance fee of a gig. If the only way to buy a ticket is from online sellers, then why advertise a gig as costing £18 when it actually costs £21.45 and it’s impossible to actually buy a ticket for £18? Surely this is false advertising and the promoters should be prosecuted by Trading Standards like a shop would be for doing the same thing. How many shops have you been in that advertise products at a price that doesn’t include VAT then add an extra VAT fee at the till which is quite often higher than the government rate of VAT?
Another idea is that promoters who actually personally know people who come to their gigs could take an advance cash payment for a gig ticket and just put their name on a list so they could avoid the rip off fee.

Wednesday 3 October 2018

October Gigs in Manchester

These are the good gigs I know about that are happening in Manchester in October 2018:

Monday 1st: Anna Calvi @ the Ritz (£20 plus unnecessary middle man rip off fee)

Tuesday 2nd: Elder + Ancestors + Cattle @ Rebellion (£15.40 including rip off fee, Beauty Witch)

Wednesday 3rd: "Imagination in Play" Art Exhibition and Open Mic @ The Peer Hat (FREE)

Thursday 4th: Life + Mush + The Starlight Magic Hour @ Night and Day Cafe

Thursday 4th: Amber Arcades + Songs for Walter @ Deaf Institute

Friday 5th: The Sonics + The Creature Comfort @ Academy 3 (£23 plus rip off fee, although unlike most promoters these days you can still actually buy a ticket at the students union with no rip off fee and cut out the leaching online ticket sellers)

Saturday 6th: Nick Branton, Alvarro Tores & Johnny Hunter @ Chorlton Tap 2pm

Saturday 6th: M20 Festival: Factory Records 40th anniversary founding celebration including Joy Division tribute band Transmission @ various Withington venues: Fuel, Indigo, Solomons, Deco Records, The Victoria, The Orion www.M20Festival.org.uk (FREE)

Sunday 7th: Eliminator + Ascalon + Aggressive Perfector @ The Peer Hat (£5 on the door, no advance sales just like it should be)

Monday 8th: The Bear Around Your Neck @ Jimmy

Monday 8th: Devil's Avocado + The Birth Marks CANCELLED

Monday 8th: Mark Lanegan and Duke Garwood @ RNCM (£22 plus rip off fee, unless you buy a ticket from the RNCM box office)

Monday 8th: Johnny Hunter @ Matt and Phreds (FREE, 9pm)

Tuesday 9th: Chris Corsano + David Birchall, Andrew Cheetham, Hannah Marsahall and Kaier @ the Peer Hat

Wednesday 10th: The Staches + Lassie + Handle + Smelvis and the Farts @ Fuel

Wednesday 10th: Daniel Johnston film @ Dulcimer, Chorlton FREE

Thursday 11th: Angel Sword + Aggressive Perfector @ Aatma

Friday 12th: Spaceheads with visuals from Rucksack Cinema + Cynthia’s Periscope + Project Concubine + Lucy Leave @ Peer Hat (£4.40 online or £5 OTD)

Friday 12th: Nibiru + Even Vast + The Medea Project @ the Star and Garter (£5)

Friday 12th: Terry Riley @ RNCM (£25)

Saturday 13th: Bo Ningen + Witch Fever + Milk Disco @ Night and Day (promoter has been saying this is “almost sold out” for months now so maybe its almost sold out)

Saturday 13th: Yossarians + godspeed you peter andre + Sly and the Family Drone + Mother, etc  @ Partisan (3pm start, Fat Out, £8 plus a little extra for the unnecessary online middle men)

Saturday 13th: Punk Rock all dayer with The Drones @ The Peer Hat

Sunday 14th: Punk Rock all dayer @ The Peer Hat

Monday 15th: Paul Hession, Mark Hanslip, Nina Whiteman and other improvisers @ Whisky Jar

Tuesday 16th: Low @ Manchester Cathedral (£27.50 including rip off fee)

Wednesday 17th: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks @ Albert Hall (£25 plus a few pennies including rip off fee)

Wednesday 17th: Dark Thoughts + Careering @ Fuel

Wednesday 17th: Mokoomba + Jali Nyonkoling Kuyateh @ Band on the Wall

Thursday 18th: Gang of Four @ Ruby Lounge (£18 plus communist rip off fee to unnecessary middlemen who make their profit down on the disco floor; yes some capitalist shit is really taking the piss as tickets advertised at £18 are actually costing £21.45 on Ruby Lounge website)

Thursday 18th: Liines + Kaze + Emily Oldfield @ Night and Day Cafe

Thursday 18th: Mutabase @ The Peer Hat

Thursday 18th: Caitlin Gilligan @ The Cleveland, Crumpsall Folk Club

Friday 19th: Cocaine Piss + Crywank + Smelvis and the Farts + Alan @ The Star and Garter

Friday 19th: “Difficult Fun: Post-Punk and the Politics of Pleasure” talk @ Irish World Heritage Centre, 1 Irish Town Way M8 0AE (not a gig, a talk about music)

Friday 19th: Toots and the Maytals @ Academy

Friday 19th: Magic Shoppe + Frankie Teardrop + Sioux @ Night People (starts 11pm)

Saturday 20th: She Makes War @ The Castle

Sunday 21st: John Carpenter @ Albert Hall

Sunday 21st: Jo Rose @ Dulcimer, Chorlton 9pm FREE

Sunday 21st: David Birchall, Sam Andreae and Otto Willberg @ secret location in Gorton

Monday 22nd: The Mauskovic Dance Band + Mama Racho @ the Peer Hat

Monday 22nd: The Chats + WITCH FEVER @ Academy 

Tuesday 23rd: Adrena Adrena + Triangle Cuts @ the Peer Hat

Tuesday 23rd: Sink Ya Teeth + Eton Crop @ The Eagle Inn

Wednesday 24th: Space Lady + The Seer of Eye Spirit @ Yes (£15.40 including rip off fee or £14 for those privileged kids with fancy internet phones who listen to all their music for free and wave the damn things in your face making crappy bootlegs whilst you are trying to watch the band. Its at Yes so everyone will probably just talk over the Space Lady anyway)


Thursday 25th: Easter + Omit Sleep @ Gullivers (£7 tickets available at Gullivers just like they should be available from every venue with NO rip off fee for EVERY GIG)

Thursday 25th: Stallion + Aggressive Perfector + Heavy Sentence @ Dulcimer, Chorlton (£5 OTD)

Thursday 25th: Brix and the Extricated @ Night People (£15 plus rip off fee, tickets not available from Hotel Bloedel)

Friday 26th: Henry Herbert and the Fury + Hopper Propelled Electric @ The Castle (£11 including rip off fee for some piano propelled rock’n’roll)

Friday 26th: The KVB @ Yes (£9 plus rip off fee)

Friday 26th: Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs + ILL @ the Star and Garter (SOLD OUT, Beauty Witch)

Saturday 27th: Bones Shake + Thee Windom Earles + The Dee Vees + Guts + Snakerattlers + Tensheds + Weird Sex + Thee Rag and Bone Men @ Thee Peer Hat (£5 OTD, 5pm start: rock’n’roll bargain!!!)

Saturday 27th: International Teachers of Pop @ White Hotel

Sunday 28th: Dead Meadow @ Soup Kitchen (£14 plus rip off fee)

Monday 29th: Marissa Nadler @ Gullivers (£13)

Monday 29th: Melvins + Jon Spencer@ Academy (£28)

Monday 29th: Snack Family + Bingo Harry + The Sandells @ The Peer Hat

Tuesday 30th: Duane Eddy @ Bridgewater Hall

Wednesday 31st: Epic 45 + No Talk + Little Mother @ The Peer Hat

Friday November 2nd: Coupe-Gorge + Heavy Sentence + Implement @ Fuel (Lovely Hens: £5 OTD just like it should be, a real underground gig with no internet rip off fee middlemen and no wannabe career promoter advance ticketing bullshit)

Tuesday 2 October 2018

Songs for Walter and Playacting @ Yes 28.9.18


Yes is an old prog rock band. Now it’s also a tediously trendy new venue in Manchester. Maybe the name was chosen with the same total lack of originality with which they coined the name “Now Wave” which had already much more appropriately been used by Skin Graft records for music on their label informed by no wave and punk rock. This is of course a case of the pot calling the kettle black as back in the nineties I stole fanzine names off Nomeansno (“Kill Everyone Now!”) and Brainiac (“Cracked Machine”) and this blog’s name is stolen from a Wire lyric (“99.9”). I’ve never found out if Manchester promoters Now Wave have even heard of Skin Graft and their previous use of the same phrase, although judging by the mostly rather bland artists they put on, I’d guess Skin Graft was not an influence. The bevvy of bouncers on the door were very friendly but I guess the students who dig mediocre fluff music might get rowdier than hardcore punks these days as there were far more of them than you’d get at venues where violent underground music gets played. The fixtures and fittings (funded by some Camden company I was told) looked quite fancy, so employing a small squad to keep order is probably quite sensible. On the ground floor the atmosphere was horrible. Young DJs played crap music VERY LOUD: so loud everyone had to shout to make conversation, leading to total bedlam. A few people found it a bit stressful, however there was no relief in the basement where the lighting was so blindingly fierce before the bands played that someone remarked that he felt like he was being interrogated by the Stasi! Fleeing back upstairs we discovered that the only cider available was Symonds carcinogenic toxic artificial sweetener fizzbomb hangover flavour, or two varieties of bottled alcopops that are too sugary to get you drunk (Old Mout and Rekorderlig). Even worse than that, they sell pizza that some fool has decided to name “Pepperoni Playboy.” What on Earth were they thinking when they came up with that name? Let’s commemorate dead sexist pigs? I just hope that some clueless advertising agency wasn’t paid to come up with that stupid name. Downstairs after a more or less standard small gig delay of about twenty minutes trio Playacting played some slightly fey and fussy but technically interesting and emotive music that people like to refer to as “math rock” because they aren’t just banging out barre chords in 4/4 time. Their best song started very quietly, and built to a much louder climax, which was fortunate as the room was filling up with people who mostly seemed to be intent on carrying on shouting at each other whilst the bands played. Whilst this might seem socially acceptable whilst a “support band” is playing, it’s the height of bad manners to do keep on SHOUTING at your friends for the whole gig. If you want to shout, do it between songs. The noise levels were so high as Songs for Walter played that I almost had to put my head in the PA!  The day before I’d seen singer-songwriter-guitarist Laurie Hulme warm up with a solo performance at the Manchester Food Festival on Albert Square. He must have got some good practise in for playing whilst people chat as he didn’t seem at all bothered by the relentless chunder. He’d played a cover of “Total Trash” by Sonic Youth in the big marquee on Albert Square, and dedicated it to me which was nice. There were no Sonic Youth songs tonight, just his new album played in running order by a four piece band which latterly expanded to five. Long time Songs for Walter collaborator Tekla sang backing vocals and played tambourine. Joel Nicholson of Easter and Chew Magna played another guitar and Liam Stewart of NASDAQ, Lonelady and Elle Mary and the Bad Men drummed. At one point Liam remarked that playing drums in Songs for Walter was a completely different skill to what he was used to, as the songs were all so rhythmically simple. Playing the album song by song meant Laurie had to switch guitars continuously but this didn’t lead to any noticeable delay. I got another dedication with “Alien” which also happens to be the film I’ve watched more times than any other! I don’t think the song has anything to do with the film. Laurie introduced “I Don’t Know Who You Are” with an amusing story about events that inspired the song. He’d locked his car keys in the trunk, his phone had died and he’d run out of money. To get help he had to knock on doors at random and hope that someone would let him sleep on their couch. A friendly Spanish guy let him do just that but bizarrely only listened to one song all night, “Losing My Religion” by REM. Things could have been much worse. What if the Spanish guy’s favourite song had been “I Wanna Be Adored” by the Stone Roses? I think I’d have chosen hypothermia!

Wednesday 26 September 2018

The Empty Page + Bivouac @ Night People 24.9.18


The Empty Page is such a perfect name for a band if you’re writing a review about their music. There before me is an empty page to fill with words about The Empty Page. They are a Manchester trio. The bassist is a woman with dyed mostly blondish/white hair called Kel who also sings and shouts a little bit. The other two both have beards and are men as far as I can tell. Big Jim looms over his drum kit at the back and thwacks the snare louder than any other band in town. Long haired Giz plays a pink guitar and roams the stage looking cool, although he didn’t move about as much as I’ve seen him do at previous gigs. If you have a clue you’ll have probably guessed from their name that they like Sonic Youth very much and you don’t have to ask them to confirm this: their black on white or white on black T-shirt is a homage to the Raymond Pettibon cartoon on the cover of “Goo” with the three of them in the car. They were on early at 7.30pm and had just started their set as I walked down the stairs into Night People. Less than half the set was from their 2016 album: “Big Wheel,” “Turbulence” and the last song, title track “Unfolding.” Kel half apologised for introducing “He’s Very Good at Swimming” as a song about victim blaming but, she said, this room full of mostly men would have to put up with it as she’s had to listen to too many songs about cocks. “Whose cock?” shouts one guy, so I shouted “Buzzcocks!” and with that they kicked into the best song they’d played so far that night. “Thanks for listening to us whinging on a Monday night,” said Kel, then they played the song that really got me moving, “When the Cloud Explodes.” This is soon going to be a single. I felt like I was just getting warmed up when they played the last song “Unfolding.” The Empty Page could have played a set twice as long and deserve to be headlining larger venues. I hope this happens as Kel has something to say, and Jim’s snare drum thwack is too loud for small spaces! After they played another woman arrived making a grand total of five women in the room amongst about 30-50 men. Three of those women seemed quite likely to be Gardenback’s girlfriends, as they jiggled around a bit whilst the next trio played then disappeared when Nottingham’s answer to Dinosaur Jr, Bivouac, played. Gardenback are another band with a singing bassist, but he lacked Kel’s charisma and attitude. I spent their whole set wishing the guitar was louder as it had a spiky spangly Gothic tinge, but unfortunately the guitarist looked like he could have been the son of Mike Rutherford from Genesis, and this was a bit distracting. I’d only heard about Bivouac’s reformation when I saw a poster for this gig in Night People. The low turn out could have been down to it being a Monday night, which is also the worst night for gig attendance. Also there are too many good gigs happening in Manchester these days and most people just can’t afford to go to everything even if they want to. Bivouac were just as good as they were in the 1990s. They looked a little older and Paul and Antony the drummer have grown beards. I’m not sure if they played all of “Tuber” as my CD is buried in a box somewhere, but the best songs of the set were actually the two new ones they played from their recent single. I’d have liked to have bought a copy but didn’t have enough money left.

New Order in Poole, March 1986


The first gig I went to, New Order @ Poole Arts Centre 29.3.86 cost only £5, although one could buy a lot more with £5 back then. A flyer for the tour fell out of my old “Low Life” LP. I think we paid on the door so I never got a ticket stub. I remember there was an army of Joy Division bootleg tape sellers outside the venue. My friend Dan’s parents drove us to Poole from the Salisbury area and went for a meal whilst the three or maybe four of us went to watch New Order. They played most of their best album Low Life (maybe all of it), Ceremony, Temptation, Blue Monday, Shellshock and the at that point unreleased State of the Nation. When Bernard Sumner (“the twat!”) got his melodica out for Your Silent face it got the biggest cheer of the night. Peter Hook made me want to play bass guitar, so I did, on a black damaged three string bass. I taught myself almost every Joy Division bass line. I had an almost Ian Curtis fit moment. After the support band Tea House Camp (you never heard of them) we all pushed as far forward as we could into the densely packed crowd and got fairly close to the stage. It was so hot that I passed out, and so packed that everyone had no option but to push me back on my feet immediately. This meant I started the gig in the state of sensory derangement that blacking out brings on. I expect the gig was bootlegged, but unlike the second gig I went to (The Fall @ Southampton University) I’ve never tracked down a bootleg recording. I’ve never been back to Poole since that night. Years later I met Stephen Morris in Macclesfield and told him New Order were the first band I’d ever been to see at a gig. He asked what year and when I told him he said, “Oh sorry we must have been terrible then!” They were a hell of a lot better than at the Reading Festival 1993, which was the third and last time I saw them play.

Saturday 22 September 2018

Drink and Drive


“AND this band… they said… they were from OLD HAM! But what you did not know is… “There’s a new fiend on the loose!” AND they call it… Drink and Drive!” This is how I introduced Drink and Drive’s headline at the Old Pint Pot on the Irwell in south Salford last night. You might well have guessed I was doing my notorious Mark E Smith impression. As soon as this hideous replica finished his spiel, the bass player was on it with the first song intro. Drink and Drive then played the best gig I’ve seen them play. I think it was my fourth time… first time I thought they were OK, second I thought they were really quite good, third I liked them more and this time I’m elevating them to the level of Gnod, ILL, Easter, NASDAQ, Wode, Plank!, Denim & Leather, Locean, Bones Shake, Bobbie Peru, Thee Windom Earles, Witch Fever, Aggressive Perfektor, Primitive Knot, Kiran Leonard, Yossarians, The Birth Marks, Politburo, Jungfraus, Dead Objectives, Throwing Stuff, Rose and the Diamond Hand, Douga, Salford Media City, Ten Mouth Electron, Blue Orchids, Silver Dick, Triangle Cuts, Tekla, Songs for Walter, Sweet Deals on Surgery, Careering, Errant Monks, DUDS, Elle Mary and the Bad Men, The Creature Comfort, The Empty Page, The Sandells, The Dee Vees, Mama Racho, Diagonal Science, Breaking Colts, Lake of Snakes, Tombed Visions, Ghold, Historically Fucked, Paddy Steer, Former Bullies, Secret Admirer, Tom Settle, Jo Rose, Flea, Tout Suite, Gorehead, Grotbags, Astral Bodies, Liines, Cynthia’s Periscope, Sippy Cup, Poppycock, Mold, David Birchall’s various permutations, etc (great gigging Manchester bands of 2018; this is not a complete list so don’t get pissed off if I forgot your band). Two nice surprises: only three quid in on the door and there were actually four bands playing rather than just the two I expected. Sonic AM had a superb hyper rhythm section but I wanted a bit more distortion on the guitar. I asked the singer/guitarist what the AM stood for. He said anything you like so I decided on Sonic AND Monophonic. Both they and Dead Elephants had a hell of a lot of energy. Dead Elephants introduced a great cover of the Stooges’ “Search and Destroy” as “the best song ever written.” I’m more of a Ron Asheton brutal riff fan myself, and I don’t think it’s even the best Stooges song! That’d be “Not Right.” Whatever, their version had me singing along and wanting to get on stage to sing with them! The guitarist told me afterwards I should have done just that… after all that’s’ how Henry Rollins joined Black Flag! Maybe that’s why I asked Drink and Drive if I could introduce them. They are seriously indebted to The Fall to the extent that one song even sounds like a rewrite of “Fiery Jack!” There’s also a little early Wire in some of their riffage, as Steve Shy mentioned when he first told me about them. Anyone know of a currently gigging Manchester band they like that I didn’t mention here? Please mention them below. Some I might have forgotten and some I might not have heard yet.

Friday 21 September 2018

October Gigs in Manchester


These are some of the good gigs I know about that are happening in Manchester in October 2018. An updated version of this list can be found further up the blog.

Monday 1st: Anna Calvi @ the Ritz (£20 plus unnecessary middle man rip off fee)

Tuesday 2nd: Elder + Ancestors + Cattle @ Rebellion (£15.40 including rip off fee, Beauty Witch)

Friday 5th: The Sonics + The Creature Comfort @ Academy 3 (£23 plus rip off fee, although unlike most promoters these days you can still actually buy a ticket at the students union with no rip off fee and cut out the leaching online ticket sellers)

Sunday 7th: watch TV to see how crap the new Dr Who is

Monday 8th: Mark Lanegan & Duke Garwood @ RNCM (£22 plus rip off fee, unless you buy a ticket from the RNCM box office)

Monday 8th: Johnny Hunter @ Matt and Phreds (FREE, 9pm)

Tuesday 9th: Chris Corsano + David Birchall, Andrew Cheetham, Hannah Marsahall & Kiaer @ the Peer Hat

Wednesday 10th: Daniel Johnston film @ Dulcimer, Chorlton FREE

Friday 12th: Spaceheads + Rucksack Cinema + Cynthia’s Periscope @ Peer Hat (£4)

Friday 12th: Nibiru + Even Vast + The Medea Project @ the Star and Garter (£5)

Friday 12th: Terry Riley @ RNCM (£25)

Saturday 13th: Bo Ningen + Witch Fever + Milk Disco @ Night and Day (promoter has been saying this is “almost sold out” for months now)

Saturday 13th: Yossarians + godspeed you peter andre + Ukaea + Mother,etc  @ Partisan (3pm start, Fat Out)

Tuesday 16th: Low @ Manchester Cathedral (£27.50 plus rip off fee; greedy Mormons!)

Wednesday 17th: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks @ Albert Hall

Thursday 18th: Gang of Four @ Ruby Lounge (£18 plus communist rip off fee to unnecessary middlemen who make their profit down on the disco floor; yes someone capitalist shit is really taking the piss as tickets advertised at £18 are actually costing £21.45 on Ruby Lounge website)

Thursday 18th: Liines @ Night and Day Cafe

Saturday 20th: She Makes War @ The Castle

Sunday 21st: John Carpenter @ Albert Hall

Monday 22nd: The Mauskovic Dance Band + Mama Racho @ the Peer Hat

Tuesday 23rd: Adrena Adrena + Triangle Cuts @ the Peer Hat

Thursday 25th: Easter @ Gullivers

Thursday 25th: Stallion + Aggressive Perfektor + Heavy Sentence @ Dulcimer

Friday 26th: The KVB @ Yes

Friday 26th: Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs + ILL @ the Star and Garter (SOLD OUT, Beauty Witch)

Tuesday 29th: Marissa Nadler @ Gullivers

Tuesday 29th: Jon Spencer Blues Explosion + Melvins @ Academy (£32.25!!! Even before rip off fees!)

Punk Avant Garde has No Class


Now it can be revealed! After some deliberation and argumentation these are the 9 most “avant garde” bands associated with “punk rock” in my opinion.

1.       CRASS Total subversion, total anarchy, vegan chaos, swearing, blasphemy, pay no more than 49p to hide from Reality Asylum with Shaved Women and screaming babies. Best before 1984 but sadly even more relevant today.

2.       THE POP GROUP We are time, deconstructed chaos, reconstructed dub without the boring Jah Jah cannabis sunshine daydream

3.       THIS HEAT Never forget you have a choice, intense prog rock in HEAVY disguise

4.       WIRE Accidentally invented hardcore punk, intentionally invented dugga and too clever for their own good

5.       DOME Weird offshoot of WIRE with silly tube hats mostly hated by “punks”

6.       THE FALL How old are the stars really? How can you quantify destruction?

7.       MELT BANANA Teeny shiny hyper video chipmunk core from Tokyo, Japan

8.       SIOUXSIE AND THE BANSHEES Middle class girl transforms herself into a walking singing work of art, and I’m hearing voices, drop dead, she’s your little voodoo dolly, accidentally invented eighties Goth scene

9.       PUBLIC IMAGE LIMITED First three albums only and Lydon’s a buttery shithead these days, totally lost the plot after ripping off Flipper
With the exception of The Fall. PIL and The Pop Group most of these bands are mostly from middle class backgrounds as far as I know, rather disproving a friend’s assertion that “the avant garde is working class.” The “avant garde” has no class. Who should be number 10?

Later I wrote this in reaction to many suggestions, including that Throbbing Gristle and Pere Ubu should be on this list:

Well Mission of Burma wouldn’t be in a “top ten” but if we expand this list to fifty or more then they have to feature. Roger Miller has made much more experimental music outside of Mission of Burma. The same would be true of Gang of Four, who no one has mentioned yet! I think it would be an interesting exercise to try to expand this list to a hundred bands, but maybe limit it to bands that came into existence between 1975 and 1980. It probably makes sense to ditch the hierarchical aspect as this is mostly too subjective. Throbbing Gristle should certainly feature and would be a candidate for the no 1 slot in a hierarchy, I was really just arguing for the sake of it. So should Pere Ubu, despite David Thomas’ jaundiced view of “punk rock.” Even though I love a lot of the music, I hate the term “punk” but it has a cultural and musical meaning that has eclipsed its prison slang origin, in much the same way that “gay” is rarely used to mean happy anymore. Another standard term I hate is “krautrock” which is especially silly when applied to bands that aren’t German. In making Crass the most “avant garde” band I wasn’t just thinking of their sound, but of their politics and cultural impact. They and Throbbing Gristle both got bourgeois tory scum agitated about their art and that makes them more “avant garde” than any of the other bands. I also think that Siouxsie has had such a huge cultural impact and that no matter how many poppier singles the Banshees made, they are still more important to any historical narrative than relatively unknown noisier or weirder sounding artists. If we looked at the so called “avant garde” of “punk rock” then I can’t think of any bands who had more cultural impact than Siouxsie, TG, Wire and Crass. All four created new musical genres, whether they meant to or not. As far as I’m aware only Crass had the intention of instigating and nurturing a scene (Anarcho-Punk) and this in itself makes them more interesting to me. Actually their aims were probably far more ambitious than that, and as far as I’m concerned they haven’t failed yet. They’d almost found anarchy and peace when the system dropped its bomb. And in the ruins the survivors start all over again. And that’s where Killing Joke stride in…

Friday 14 September 2018

Trinkhallen, Primitive Iodine, Rose and Raz


“Do you go to gigs every day?” asked Lowri Evans in Chorlton Oddbins last night. Well, I had Tuesday night off. Why was I in Oddbins? Why, a gig of course! It was the third time this week I’d come to hear my friends guitarist David Birchall and singer Greta Buitkute on their Trinkhallen tour with German bass clarinet trio Die Verwechslung. On Monday I’d tried and failed to walk all the way to posh Altrincham along Bridgewater Canal. Had I not taken a scenic detour via Sale Water Park and Priory Gardens where there is a fantastic high path view over green treetops, I might have made it on time. As it was I hopped on a tram at Timperley and rode two stops to the end of the line. It would have been well worth the walk even if they hadn’t been playing as the Angkor Soul people had laid on delicious free food; jack fruit, rice and peas with salad. Iko Kelly, Stuart Calton and Kate Armitage made it to two of their performances but I was the only non-performer who wasn’t travelling in the German entourage to film and photograph the tour who made it to all three. I was late to the 5pm performance in Arndale Centre market Microbar as David had mistakenly written that Microbar was in the Food Court at the other end of the mall. Later last night I took the tram from Chorlton to Piccadilly to hear another magical performance from Rose Niland and her five recorder tooting ladies and Canny drumming and keyboarding men. OK two ladies played bass and guitar rather than recorders but that sentence would have been way too clunky if I’d included that information. One of Rose and Diamond Hand’s songs sounds like what might have happened if Can had been asked to write a James Bond theme. Drummer Jay Vid Duchovny was feeling very ill, but it didn’t affect his Leibezeitisms. Jewish singer songwriter Avital Raz played afterwards and started with a song rather reminiscent of “The Scarlet and the Gold” by the Thirteenth Floor Elevators. She played her notorious “Edinburgh Song” about getting fucked up the ass for peace, and her new songs sounded like her best yet. The night before I’d walked along the canal to the Peer Hat for some Satanic starpowered tripped out tribal invocations from Primitive Knot, a bit of abstract ambience from Kepier Widow and a full on wild onslaught of Harry Pussy / Sonic Youth proportions from French trio Sister Iodine. Tonight Triangle Cuts are playing at Fuel but I’ll be heading to Islington Mill for their party (BYOB) that starts at 6pm, then off to Night People for a late night gig headlined by great garage blues punk band the Dee Vees. The weekend is a double all day music feast courtesy of Astral Elevator called the Psych weekender featuring the mighty Mugstar, a band I’ve seen almost as many times as Killing Joke, Wire and Melt Banana. Other highlights are Lumerians, The Oscillation, Bones Shake, The Janitors and Weird Sex, but most bands playing I’ve never heard before. If the timings work out I might pop over to The Peer Hat on Saturday to see Paddy Steer and on Sunday to see Ian Svenonius, but the giro is running low so paying in to two extra gigs might become slightly problematic by Sunday. Monday is quieter with Cult Party, Secret Admirer, Tekla and Tom Settle playing the Peer Hat, then I have two days off as Dylan Carlson has had to cancel his gig due to illness. The Peer Hat seems to have very much taken over the gig scene this September. Those facebook frenz who also appeared: Dusty Burtons, Martin Warm Widow, Alexa Kruger, Nick Alexander, Michelle Woods, Mathew Boycott Garnet, Penfold Kowalski, Joanne Maylott, Simon Morris, Mick Kenyon, Liam Farr, Dom Jam and a special guest appearance from James Travis who was getting on the tram to Rochdale going home from work as I got off after travelling from Chorlton.

Brix Smith: The Rise The Fall and the Rise


NEW FACTS EMERGE: I wonder if the final Fall album was titled as a reflection on the books written by Brix Start, Stephen Hanley and Simon Woolstencroft? Brixton’s fascinating book “The Rise The Fall and the Rise” is certainly full of revelations about the character of various Fall members especially Mark E Smith. Primarily I learnt these things:

1      When she was a teenager Brix was brutally anally raped by a guy she thought was gay who lured her to a jam session. She never revealed this to anyone until she wrote the book.

2    Mark E Smith seemed to have been in a worse state of mental collapse than I’d imagined when Brix quit for the second time and tried to hit him with her guitar after he threw her handbag at her on stage. Mark insulted some rappers playing the same festival as The Fall by calling them “boy” and got a good beating for it. He was so deranged he became convinced he’d caught a disease from being touched by a person in a wheelchair that he started cutting his hands to “let out the disease.” I feel very lucky I completely failed to replace Brix as guitarist at this time, as I think I’d have probably lasted half a rehearsal. Stephen Hanley seems to be the most patient, dependable, humble nice gentleman you could hope to meet, but Mark even drove him out in the end. Brix’s replacement “Scotch man” Tommy Crooks didn’t last long.

3.       Marcia Schofield was obsessed with hardcore porn that disgusted Brix.

4.       All “the lads” except the happily married Mr Hanley and Simon Rogers would pay for prostitutes whilst on tour.

5.       Mark started cheating on Brix earlier in their marriage than I thought, and also cheated on Lucy Rimmer.

6.       “Hotel Bloedel” was a real hotel in Germany near Auschwitz where Mark and Brix stayed. It had its own abattoir, where cows were slaughtered to feed the guests, which disgusted Brix. Bloedel is German for stupid person and it was run by a strange family of that name. Mostly stupid people work in abattoirs don’t they?

7.       My first impression of Brix when I met her whilst the Fall were recording a video for “The Chisellers” was correct: she is a really nice person. My first impression of Karl Burns was also pretty much spot on: he’s a right cunt. Brix bought him a birthday cake which he just threw at a wall! I never met either of them again but had several strange encounters with Mark E Smith in the years that followed. It’s possible that I was at least partly the inspiration for the lyrics and Mark E Smith impressions on the song “Everybody But Myself” and the character of the Crying Marshall.

8.       Leigh Bowery “simulated” rape on Brix (without her consent) but she put it down to being part of his “art” as there was no penetration. Considering Agenda Item One, this must have been very disturbing and terrifying for her.

9.       Brix has a very low opinion of “The Frenz Experiment” especially “The Steak Place” and “Oswald Defence Lawyer.”

10.   Brix came up with the title “The Wonderful and Frightening World of the Fall” as a homage to “The Wonderful World of Disney.”

11.   We are in total agreement that “This Nation’s Saving Grace” is the best Fall album. Her critical analysis of Fall music is mostly spot on.

12.   Brix drew the CREEP character that I have on a very old poster, originally for a book of Mark’s lyrics. CREEP has a lobster claw hand “because creeps always pinch you on the ass.”

13.   There should be another 14 or 15 points so that there are 27 points, just like the double live album that was the final Fall recording to be released featuring Brix, until the deluge of demo/live compilations like “Oxymoron” and “Sinister Waltz.” I will just have to read the book again to find the points.

Tuesday 4 September 2018

September Gigs in Manchester

Saturday 1st: Psych Fest with ILL, St Agnes, Mold, The Cosmics, Asteroid #4, Saba Lou, The Abjects, AK/DK, etc

Monday 3rd: Insurrectionary Neo-Futurism Monday @ Peer Hat with Cynthia’s Periscope + Triangle Cuts + Jan Doyle Band FREE

Thursday 6th: Powersolo + Bones Shake + Thee Windom Earles @ Peer Hat

Friday 7th: 100 Year Old Man @ Rebellion

Friday 7th: Matt Hollywood and the Bad Feelings @ Peer Hat

Friday 7th: Little Mother + Baby Green + Amphorae @ Fuel

Saturday 8th: Kiran Leonard + Cult Party + The Birth Marks @ Partisan

Saturday 8th: Bong + Bismuth @ Star & Garter

Saturday 8th: Zimpel / Ziolek + Tombed Visions @ Soup Kitchen

Monday 10th: Die Verwechslung with David Birchall and Greta Buitkute @ Angkor Soul, 20 Ashley Road Altrincham 7pm

Wednesday 12th: Sister Iodine + Kepier Widow + Primitive Knot @ Peer Hat

Thursday 13th: Die Verwechslung with David Birchall and Greta Buitkute @ Food Hall, Arndale Centre 5pm

Thursday 13th: Avital Raz + Rose and the Diamond Hand + Laura Taylor @ Peer Hat

Thursday 13th: Die Verwechslung with David Birchall and Greta Buitkute @ Chorlton Oddbins 7pm

Thursday 13th: The Noise Upstairs @ Fuel

Friday 14th: Psych weekender warm up @ Night People with the Dee Vees + Silver Vials + Circus Cannon 10pm start

Friday 14th: Triangle Cuts @ Fuel

Saturday 15th: Paddy Steer + Experimental Sonic Machines + Flavolous + Video + Acid Marko @ Peer Hat (starts 5pm)

Saturday 15th: Psych weekender @ Night People with The Oscillation, Lumerians, Bones Shake, etc

Saturday 15th: Wooden Shjips + The Lucid Dream @ Gorilla (sold out)

Saturday 15th: Kapil Seshasayee + Parlour + Wait Loss + Jo Rose @ Fuel

Sunday 16th: Ian Svenonius Escape-ism @ Peer Hat

Sunday 16th: Psych Weekender @ Night People w/ Mugstar, etc

Monday 17th: Cult Party + Secret Admirer + Tekla + Tom Settle @ Peer Hat

Wednesday 19th: Dylan Carlson (Earth) cancelled due to illness

Thursday 20th: Sneers @ Peer Hat

Friday 21st: Drink and Drive + Sonic AM + Dead Elephants @ The Old Pint Pot

Saturday 22nd: Guts + Threads + SPQR + Blanketman + Farfisa @ Peer Hat

Monday 24th: Bivouac + The Empty Page @ Night People

Tuesday 25th: The Nightingales + Near Jazz Experience @ Soup Kitchen


27-30 Sonder Festival in various venues with mostly bands I've never heard

Thursday 27th: Hands Off Gretel @ Bread Shed (Sonder Festival)

Thursday 27th: Consumer Electronics + Skullflower @ Ruby Lounge

Friday 28th: Songs for Walter @ Yes basement


Friday 28th: Wolfgang Flur @ Gorilla

Friday 28th: The Cosmics @ Night People (Sonder Festival)

Saturday 29th: Witch Fever + Chew Magna + Black Pudding + lots of other bands “Stay Fresh fest”@ Deaf Institute


Sunday 30th: Blue Orchids + Bell Lungs + Sans Oeuf @ Peer Hat

Sunday 30th:  Cynthia's Periscope @ Fac251 (Sonder Festival)


Early October highlights:


2 Cattle @ Rebellion (opening for Elder  + Ancestors neither of whom I've heard yet)
5 The Sonics @ Academy 3
9 Chris Corsano @Peer Hat
12 Spaceheads @ Peer Hat
13 Bo Ningen + Witch Fever @ Night and Day
13 Yossarians @ Partisan

Fake News and Karaoke (fifteenth letter to Lowri)


Rewind to 5pm Friday 13th July: The Anti-Trump demo was fun, but I must confess I didn’t enjoy it as much as that anti-Trump march when we walked together. I took the mini-Trump-a-ninny heads with movable mouths and blacked out demonic soulless eyes which Akin had cut out in the Peer Hat from flyers and posters for a play at the Kings Arms. As I walked around looking for familiar faces, I articulated the Trump mouths as I did a passable impression of his whiny creepy voice saying mostly, “Fake News! Fake News!” Nearly everyone laughed and those who laughed the most got a “Little Rocket Man” and “I’m a very stable genius!” I fake newsed a woman being interviewed and filmed by hiding behind her banner so that only the hideous Trump head could be seen on camera. She cracked up and turned round to see the Trump head and laughed even more. The people who liked the fake news most got a free mini-Trump to take home and torture until I’d exhausted my Trump supply. The only man who didn’t laugh was a dour communist selling his anti-capitalist wares at a table. I suspect he was in disapproval of the anarchy A I’d scrawled on Trump’s orange bonce. I met my friend Jessica Flavell and we hung out for a while whilst Dave Haslam played “We Don’t Need That Fascist Groove Thang” and “Get Up Stand Up Don’t Give Up the Fight” and some other music that neither of us would choose to listen to at home. I was in the mood for a bit of punk rock really. “I’m So Bored of The USA” Clash karaoke would have done just fine: “Trump is a moron, he’s always on TV, ‘cos fascists in America work seven days a week!” Another Haslam, Chris from Gnod, sashayed gaily by sporting a stylish red “Just Say No to the Psycho Right-Wing Capitalist Fascist Industrial Death Machine” T-shirt. They probably should have asked him to DJ instead of Dave Haslam! Then we might have got some Nirvana, Joy Division, Can and Motorhead. Anti-frackers Julian and Amy S Olive said hi. I got nearer the stage to watch some Mexican dancers then my MP Kate Green did a hellfire speech against the evil of Trump, but it was like teaching a grandmother to suck lovely eggs. Why do grandmothers suck eggs? The best speaker was a former US serviceman who called Trump an asshole to huge cheers. By then I’d met the Vanishing Gareth Smith, Breaking Colt Joanna Maylott and Polythene Snake Kate Themen. The angry American asked us to all link arms in solidarity with the person next to us so I linked arms with Kate who linked arms with Jojo who linked arms with Gareth. The clouds cried again and drenched the last couple of speakers. The Universe itself had enough Credit to try to wash the evil of Trump right out of the Square. I rushed off to the Ritz to see The Breeders, where Kelley Deal had been kind enough to put me on the guestlist. IT’S TRUE!!

At the Ritz I met Ben Ryles at the bar whilst support band Pip Blom bounced around… here the tape has been partially erased and just the muffled voice of Kim Deal singing, “I am the sun, I am the New Year, IT’S TRUE!” can be heard. A slow motion process of digital recovery has been instigated. The print out’s blocked…
I really didn't expect to find my Hotpants Romance bag and Melt Banana T-shirt at a Zombie Shack gig by a New Order tribute band late on Friday night, getting friendly with some nice European ladies of Unknown Pleasures. I arrived in the middle of “Blue Monday,” and stuck around to dance to the “Ceremony.” There was a pleasant “Atmosphere” and a bit of “Temptation.” Serial bootlegger Alex Staszko even recorded it and cheekily laughed at my Ian Curtis dance! True Order had the tunes down but their vocal impressions needed a bit of extra karaoke practice. I told them that the first band I ever saw play a gig was New Order. IT’S TRUE!

The choices of songs at Scary-oke karaoke were not as cool as their flyer suggested they might be, but that’s the choice of the karaokists. I chose “All Stood Still” by Ultravox, certainly the most apocalyptic song of the night and it seems to me to be a topical dystopian warning for the state of the nation as our increasingly incompetent, corrupt and evil government ruins everything with the swill of the people. All the Midge Ure lyrics were there on the screen but half the Chris Cross words were missing in action so I had to ad lib a bit. Next up was The Cure “Love Cats” but the karaokist who chose it had fled into the night. Someone shouted for everyone to sing it so we all got on stage to get wonderfully wonderfully pretty and know that we’d do anything for you. Halfway through I snatched the mic off someone who wasn’t singing loud enough and finished the grooviest thing. The worst singing was on “Atmosphere” by Joy Division. The last thing I remember was two girls duetting “Rip Her to Shreds” by Blondie. The screens shut down. The clocks all stopped. The lights went out. I’ll remember to mention you in tapes I leave behind.

Break Shit is Break Shit (fourteenth letter to Lowri)


Here is another of the gigantic Lowris. I saw the graffiti nearby and thought it would be funny if the man in glasses was saying, “Breakshit is Breakshit.” The giant Lowri’s reply is the graffiti: “Breakshit is the devil’s work!” See how I avoided typing the dreadful “B” word. I took a devout monastic vow to never type or say that word. I always refer to “Leaving the EU.” I have to pay more letter tax, but it’s worth every penny. At the last moment I asked Whitney Bluzma to get me in the photo, pointing at the graffiti and shouting the message about the devil into my phone to the gigantic Lowri and her bespectacled friend. Nearby skateboarders seemed slightly bemused. This short street performance was titled, “Leaving the EU is the devil’s work, and the devil is Boris Johnson.” My hope is that it will contribute in some tiny way to helping exorcise that lying buffoon from all our lives forever. Whilst Boris is in Aquarius and The Sun is up his arse, there is no hope for anyone. Later on Piccadilly I spotted a “Naughty Bus.” Instead of a number and destination the display read, “Naughty Bus.” Suddenly people were shouting and raising French flags on Piccadilly Plaza! The EU had betrayed us again and France had invaded! I hurried home to fetch my sword, but dozed off before I could join the fray, so like a minister I am now resigned to my fate. Perhaps you would be safer staying in Brazil until the innocent and saintly hero of the patriots, the pinball wizard Tommy Robinson, can lead us all bravely into battle against Jeanni Foreigner and we can make Britain grate again.

The Wonderful Wooden Poodle (thirteenth letter to Lowri)


The Fifteenth: Space is the Place, time is the crime. Planet Earth is doomed and there’s nothing the Overseers can do. The only hope for humanity in the insanity is the cosmic vibration of the Sun Ra Arkestra and their double breasted spacecraft. They will bring about a new consciousness through isotopic transmogrification . Or something like that. 

Near Home the gigantic Lowri had replicated twice. There were now three gigantic Lowris. Or could it be that the other two gigantic Lowris had always been there, but were obscured from my consciousness by rogue particles gravitating towards the Deleted Beach at the heart of Home. This is a true story. Close to the first gigantic Lowri I found an abandoned street poodle on wheels. The poor pooch had broken his neck. I lifted the unfortunate beast delicately and carried it across the road. It was clearly dead, but perhaps it had never really been alive. I tried to tend his mortal wounds as best I could, and propped his head at a more natural angle. He was pleased to be placed next to his new mistress, staring up at her in admiration. I titled this spontaneous street installation “Now I wanna be your green poodle dog.” The people were pleased: two young Japanese girls were so tak 
en with the wonderful wooden poodle that they snapped pictures to take home so that they could marvel at his greenness and share it with their friends. Kawaii!! Luckily a couple of my friends were nearby, Whitney Bluzma the feminist bassist of the dada sticky ILL band, and her boyfriend Jason. I asked Whitney to take a picture of the wonderful wooden poodle in his new location so that I could show you as I thought you’d enjoy this scene. The intense gravitational pull of the three gigantic Lowris was hard to escape, but I managed to run away again.

Full Mantis (twelfth letter to Lowri)


You keep surprising me. I didn’t expect to turn a corner and be confronted by a giant Lowri hangin’ on to a telephone! It wasn’t a hologram, just a two dimensional image, so there was no chance of any fishy interaction. Is this how they entice people to sit in a future office these days? If you put a picture of Lowri Evans on the barrier that keeps the people out of a construction site on Thirst Street will they all stay out? Or will kiddies climb over the Lowri to play in the scaffolding? Today at least your image was keeping trespassers out, even though it doesn’t seem at all threatening. How do you do it? By the time the sky blocking tower block is built I predict office workers will all turn on their computers and switch them off again in the nude and waft the stench of decaying fish through the air conditioning.

I was heading to Home to see a film about jazz drummer Milford Graves and the met office had put out a huge name drop warning. I met modular synthesist Sam Weaver just after I bought my ticket. The till lady asked me if I’d ever seen a film at Home before and I had to confess I was a Home film virgin, but proudly showed her my Hotpants Romance shoulder bag and told her I’d seen this band play at Home. As you might recall I lost my Home exhibitionism virginity to Hotpants Romance last Valentine’s Day. I climbed the stairs with Sam, having completely forgotten all the directions the till lady had given me, but we found our way to the cinema without any fishy mishaps. Inside there were eleven people I know, and there was a seat left next to our friend Stuart Calton who is half a Sippy Cup. Next to him was the other half of Sippy Cup and third of Silver Dick the facebook free Kate Armitage and next to her was Martyn Walker. Next to him were Helen Brealey and David Birchall. David is such a Milford Graves enthusiast that he’d already seen the film in a Sheffield cinema. Afterwards he confessed to some confusion about Milford’s philosophising and I warned him that the Sun Ra “Space is the Place” film showing at Home on Sunday might push his philosophical boat much further out. Or should that be farther out? Who cares, as long as you know what I mean. Those who also watched: Paddy Steer, Graham Massy, Sam’s brother Christian Weaver, Fred who may or may not be on facebook and a fellow whose name I don’t know or forgot who I met when Damo Suzuki played a gig with the band who used to be The Fall. All of them were wearing clothes and no one had brought a fish, but they’ll learn. The film was called “Full Mantis” after Milford’s revelation that he had to learn his moves from the preying mantis. It was funny and moving, especially the concert with autistic Chinese children and Milford’s account of how he avoided prison by being nice when buying cheese after he went on a rampage with a pistol against some people who were trying to kill his son. Stuart was so into it he kept wiggling about in his seat in rhythmic excitement.
Outside the skies had broken, crying that Trump was making England worse again with his odious presence. That sexist racist fascist dictator wannabe with lots of shiny missiles to point at “little rocket man” had ruined the heatwave, just like he spoils everything else he can. My luck was in, as I found a big broken discarded umbrella to shelter me and my trusty Hotpants bag from the crying clouds as I hurried to The Peer Hat where I was just in time to see the second funniest band in Manchester ever, Jeuce. More on them later, as I have to make some silly signs for the anti-Trump demo party on Albert Square. Wish you were here like that demo when we marched against Trump together. Please send your hologram!!

Crow Asia Magic Hour (eleventh letter to Lowri)


I got much more black against white football action than I expected last night in Gullivers. The Starlight Magic Hour played quite late. They were not a team in the world cup as I’m sure you know, anyway there weren’t enough of them to take on the bolshy vics of Crow Asia! They are a six man band who play rowdy knees up drinking songs. Sometimes they have a violin, sometimes three guitars. Seb White MP, who has recently been appointed Minister of Rocking after Morrissey resigned in disgust at Bengalis wearing platform boots, also plays in one of Manchester’s best bands The Yossarians and another guitarist also fronts horror glambangers Mold. Their set started at the time the Inglund Crow Asia match should have finished, but our proud team were so upset at the resignation of national Latin prattle hero Boris Johnson they didn’t get enough goals in so had to do some overtime. I expect each one of them got paid enough money to cover the wages of twenty nurses for a year. I was glad Inglund got knocked out during The Starlight Magic Hour because if they’d won the cup the slimy corrupt Tory backstabbers would have just used it as propaganda to obscure their proto-fascist evil. I think the best team won as Crow Asia did a dribble past stint that kept the ball away from the whites’ feet for so long that even I actually began to enjoy watching football instead of just making sarcastic commentator lampoon remarks like “And a man has just kicked a ball!” and “The ball bounces, as usual!” Luckily I was amongst a gathering who didn’t take football seriously enough to get upset by such pseudo-Partridgism. The most interesting thing about the match was the advert for “McDelivery.” I wondered if this is what foul cow murderers McDonalds call their planet raping toxicity in Russia? I imagined a literal muck delivery happening during the match, so the players had to kick the ball about in a sea of slurry: a real shitkicker of a game. The match was projected on the wall at the back of the stage before The Starlight Magic Hour played and I worried that the ball might get kicked through the screen and knock over a microphone stand. Downstairs at the bar I met Louise Woodcont who was also not concerned about football as she told me she’d wasted too much energy on it when she was younger. Brian who I met at the Vital Idles gig was also there and I told him about the strange surprise you gave me at the time of Inglund’s first cup match. I got almost as rowdy as a ball fan to “Safe European Home” by The Clash. I’ve certainly wasted a hell of a lot more energy jumping around and shouting along to The Clash than kicking balls or shouting at men kicking balls and some older friends tell me The Clash were the best band they ever saw. Anyway to take the stage after one of the finest rock’n’roll tunes in existation is a challenge the red boiler suit clad Caroline Rose was up to. Luckily she soon brought the stage back and played some very danceable anthems with her gender balanced band and got everyone down the front doing the Woodcock. She showed us her pussy. I mean she showed us her fluffy toy cat that sat on her keyboard. She also had fake red flowers all over her microphones. I found myself wiggling about just behind Lou and next to the helpful fellow from Fopp who knew exactly which DVD I was after when I asked him if they had “That film about the alien woman who kills men in Scotland.” Just past him was Rivca Burns, who luckily was not literally burning although if she had been we were all close enough to the new fire exit to get out in a hurry.

Some of this letter has been fake news, in honour of the glorious king of the free world, Donald Duck. I would like to credit you and any other nosy parker reading this with enough intelligence to know the difference between bullshit and dog shit. Please click my like button as myself is steam and I only live for likes. Fake news! Fake news!

Bonus points to anyone who can recognise the film about the alien woman who kills men in Scotland.

Vital Idle Plant Mystery (tenth letter to Lowri)


On a Sunday trip to Sale Water Park just past the Chester Road Bridge I was waylaid by a young man with a bike who’d seen something strange in Bridgewater Canal. Bottles, cans, plastic bags, footballs, fish, ducks, swans, geese: these are the indigenous flora and fauna of Bridgewater Canal. How had a cannabis plant ended up a hand span underwater? Obviously he needed advice from a person with longer hair than his, as everyone knows that knowledge of cannabis sativa increases in direct proportion to hair length. We marvelled a moment at this biological conundrum, until I hit upon a possible aquatic sativa hypothesis: someone had feared a police raid and hidden their plant in the canal where they could return later and fish it out. On returning a few hours later, the mysterious hash plant was gone. What really went on there? Had the mysterious plant been rescued by a pot diver? Had stoner swans nibbled it all up? Maybe a disgruntled lover had tried to drown it in a jealous rage.

Disgruntled partner: “Yo love yo spliff more ‘un me!”
Gruntled partner: “Too right, innit bro!”
Disgruntled partner: “I’m drownin’ yo plant in the canal.”
Gruntled partner: “Ha ha ha! No one talks to me like that! No one talks to anyone like that!”

The mystery of how a large cannabis plant made a brief guest appearance in the canal will probably always remain. In the end it’s just another silly story to tell someone in Brazil. It could have been a male plant as the males just don't get you high!

Facebook has been so useful these past few days, reminding me it’s my birthday soon. What would I do without these constant tedious reminders? Maybe watch the world cup final? On Monday Simon the signer-onner wished me happy birthday for next Sunday, and told me it was also the day of the cup final. How fishy that I hadn’t even realised this! Sun Ra’s weird and wonderful “Space is the Place” film is showing at Home and that’s more my cup of Saturnic jazz. If England play Saturn in the final your waters will have been proven half right. Whoever wins, it’s an exciting time for Mediterranean vegetables, as courgettes and aubergines are on special offer at Aldi, or All Die as I call it in a questionable attempt at “black humour.” I’ve never heard people talk of “white humour.” Is this racist?

Through the window of a 15 bus I saw a cyclist with an anti-fracking banner balanced precariously on the back of her bike so I knew I’d got the right day for the protest against frackers Cuadrilla and their appeal to extend an injunction against protesters at the Preston New Road fracking site. It turned out that this was Amy S. Olive who I’d met once before at an Acorn Tenants Union meeting. Minnie Mirshahi had told me about this demo, but she didn’t make it herself even though she lives just round the corner at Islington Mill. She must have been busy Minnying elsewhere. A huge amount of statements in opposition to the appeal had been delivered earlier, so the appeal was going to go on much longer than just that morning. When I arrived at the county court I pushed the number of protesters into double figures. Most of them were dressed in yellow, but I was dressed in red, just like those confusing world cup matches. Fifteen people turned up to protest, and most of us left just after midday for some lunch at the nearby People’s History Museum, kindly bought for us all by a sweet old lady called Julie who was wearing a pro-immigration Paddington bear T-shirt. We all got to know each other a bit better over lunch, and somehow I ended up giving the last four remaining protestors an acapella rendition of “It’s a Heatwave!” A girl called Samar said, “I don’t think I would like this band.” 

It was nice of the government to pay my travel expenses for a day of protesting against their fracking foolishness, but I had to sacrifice two and a half hours to job searching at Standguide on Piccadilly Plaza. This is a company who are paid by the government to help people find work. This amounts to providing a slower internet connection than the public libraries so is a pointless waste of tax money. I amused another job searcher by telling him I might well try to find work by writing an article about Standguide for a newspaper, but I’ve been threatening to do this for well over a year without actually bothering to do it.

Later in Vinyl Exchange Joel the bassist of the excellent Easter sold me two CDs by American psychedelic primitives Carlton Melton and Australia’s most sensitive and philosophical band, Cosmic Psychos. I crossed the road to Piccadilly Records to flip through lots of vinyl I can’t afford to buy and was greeted by the very familiar tones of “The Fifteenth” by Wire. I punched the air and shouted “Yes!” like a football fan whose squid propelled wheelbarrow has just scored a goal, and sang the whole song whilst Andy whooped from the counter. It was the fish teeth! Fifteen people had been protesting outside the county court, and the fifteenth is also my birthday. There was a silent spell afterwards so whether they liked it or not I gave them an acapella rendition of “The Other Window,” the next song from “154.” Great music followed me about as I was slightly amazed that they were playing The Stranglers “Golden Brown” in Nationwide Building Society so I got to do a bit more punk rock karaoke. Outside on Market Street a very good rasta singer was singing reggae karaoke, with a friend on bongos, so I stuck around to listen until he finished his busk by singing Bob Marley’s “Redemption Songs” with an acoustic guitar instead of a backing track. I went for an organic cider in an almost deserted Peer Hat, where it seemed that someone had stolen poor Michelle Woods’ bag with her house keys and other valuables. Aki the artist turned up for the life drawing class in Aatma, and whilst he waited cut out some ugly Donald Trump heads from old flyers for a play so I could use them to make a hideous sign to hold on Friday’s anti-Trump demo. I met Julie again at the anti-Trump mobilisation meeting but was slightly disappointed that none of the speakers mentioned his despicable war on elephants, although Trump is guilty of so much bullshit we’d have been there well into the next day if it all got spoken about.

 I couldn’t believe I was actually at a musical concert for the first time since Friday. It had been so long I’d almost forgotten what gigs were like: the roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd. This was actually a relatively small crowd who were not at all smelly. The upstairs room in Marble is quite small and hot so we were all glad about that. According to my friend Vicky Middles, Dinosaur Jr fans are the smelliest. I think she may be wrong and Stranglers fans might be smellier. The only person I know in Manchester who might possibly make it to more gigs than me is Cath Aubergine and she was there, as was Laurence who occasionally puts on nice quiet gigs where he gives everyone cakes he bakes. Downstairs at the bar I got talking to a guy called Brian because he was wearing a Sonic Youth “Confusion is Sex” T-shirt. It turned out he was just three years old when I saw Sonic Youth for the first time, supported by Mudhoney at Kilburn National on the “Daydream Nation” tour. I told him it was the most excited I’d ever been at a gig, yes, even including Hotpants Romance gigs!  I am so sorry. How can you ever forgive me? We exchanged opinions on the relative merits of various Sonic Youth albums and it turned out we both liked Lee’s songs the most. The extraordinary drummer Andrew Cheetham of Easter was there too, along with Nick Ainsworth of Former Bullies and Secret Admirer. The always amiable RL Perry had put the gig on and even after a few drinks he was still Comfortable on a Tightrope. It was the second time I’d seen Wurms and the first time I’d seen Vital Idles. Both bands sing out of tune so I think you would have appreciated them. Vital Idles remind me a little of early Wire, but much more ramshackle. The drummer of Vital Idles seemed quite familiar but I couldn’t place him at first until I realised it was Matt, who used to go out with our firm friend Kate Armitage. It was uncannily funny that I was carrying my important papers and water in the Hotpants Romance shoulder bag that Kate gave me when I went round to her posh flat for an emergency shower, as for the rest of the anti-leather jacket heatwave I’d been using a Talk Normal shoulder bag. It was nice to see Matt again even without his beard, and it struck me as funny that the night his band were playing Manchester Kate was playing a gig in London. Then again maybe I am just easily amused. 

I am now using the free newspaper with a picture of that relentless incompetent bozo Boris Johnson wearing a silly helmet and waving a Union Jack to mop up water that leaks from my fridge, drowning him in effigy.

A Half True Story (ninth letter to Lowri)

Friday night was time for a Beauty Witch gig put on by Sammy Powell who can always be relied on to pick a quality ear battering bill. Before Cattle stampeded through Soup Kitchen I met Penfold Kowalski outside who gave me a nice big hug then chatted with Miriam Ma Ve and Sam and his sister Amy inside, as another confusing game of reds vs yellows screened. It would be so much easier to understand football if one team always played nude. Said hello to Nick Georgieu, Karl Astbury and Al Wilson. Look at me name dropping in a pathetic attempt to get more people to hit my “like” button. This was the fourth time I’d let Leeds noise punks Cattle do battle with my hearing. Their double drummer dynamism always gets me moving, and they were my favourite band at this year’s Sounds from the Other City. Every time I’ve seen them the screamer has worn a black MC5 T-shirt. I wonder if he always wears it or if he has a wardrobe full of black MC5 T-shirts?

It was a gig of two halves where anything could happen. In the break between the first and second half of the Soup Kitchen gig, I headed over to the Peer Hat just in time to see Heather Glazzard’s short film about the “True Story” of a beautiful funny woman with pink hair buying a sea fish to carry around. The soundtrack was silly burps and grunts, and there was a surprise guest appearance from a cheeky naked lobster. The pink haired woman seemed a very charming and stylish person, and I predict this will be the high fashion statement of the season. By the end of the summer I expect to see Ely Grey, Heather Glazzard, Jen Wu, Simon Morris, Rachel Goodyear, Martin Warmwidow, Stuart Calton, the facebook free Kate Armitage and everyone else who watched stripping naked and carrying fish around. If England win the world cup all the fans will surely strip naked and carry fish all over Russia to show how much they care!

The second half of the gig had just kicked off when I made it back to Soup Kitchen basement and the Cosmic Dead were taking off on a heavy psychedelic trip to the extreme frontiers of loudness. They’d recently lost half the band, but had luckily found another half who seemed even noisier. Afterwards the prolific Vacuous Otiosus gave me a couple of CDRs he’d recently recorded, “Elitism for the Masses” and “The Burning Mountain” which has a drawing of a squid in a wheelbarrow on the cover. Sample lyric from Squid Treatise: “If I was 98 % chlorine I’d be less happy than I am. Fish identifies locust container. Could a squid in a wheelbarrow propel itself? If so, a staggering invention! Replace all professional footballers with squid in wheelbarrows: much cheaper and probably infinitely more entertaining!” The bouncer bounced everyone up the stairs and out before I could buy a Cattle or Cosmic Dead record. I hung around a while outside Soup Kitchen with Isadora Darke, Jamie Robinson, Sophie Bee and Al Wilson before heading back to the Peer Hat for more cider and chat. And more cider and chat. And more cider and chat and some dancing. I’d better also mention Michelle Woods, Anne Louise Kershaw and Maria Gutierez in a cynical attempt to increase the “like” factor as I definitely spoke with them on Friday night. I ended up heading upstairs to Aatma with Andrew Guest and a few other people where Dom Jam and Liam Farr kept going until 9am. I started to walk home, but instead found myself wandering aimlessly around Poundworld. I was very disappointed to find they had no worlds for sale in their sale. No wonder they are closing down. After buying a chocolate soya milk sugar fix and booking my face at the library I felt like strolling pointlessly around the city centre and eventually found myself in Vinyl Exchange where for a fiver I bought a CD from Rae Donaldson called “mmmr” by guitarists Loren Mazzacane Connors, Jean-Marc Montera, Thurston Moore and Lee Ranaldo.

I walked home along Bridgewater Canal just after the England Sweden world cup game began. I wanted to get out of the city in case England lost and drunken fans turned nasty. People were crammed together in and around pubs straining to see the digitised match. “Get out of the way you prick,” shouted one drinker repeatedly at a possibly E’d up grinning guy who was prancing about in front of a screen at a pub near Castlefield Arena. I made sure I squeezed past behind the angry fan to avoid any unnecessary trouble on my way to the nearby bridge over the canal. As I headed towards Cornbrook the uproar of men in ball kicking ecstacy receded, replaced by the whooshing of trams. From a distance it sounded like a choir of intoxicated lads were singing, “She’s coming home! She’s coming home! Lowri’s coming home!”

A gang of kids had gathered under a bridge and were sitting on the towpath, completely blocking it, except for one girl who began repeatedly shouting, “Get up! There’s someone coming!” as I approached. As I reached the bridge she told me I’d have to jump over her friends as they wouldn’t get up, but then they all stood up to let me past, laughing. I told them they were lucky I didn’t try to jump over them as I might have landed on one of them and injured them. Perhaps they are sporting innovators who will grow up to introduce Kid Leaping to the Olympics. Just past Old Trafford football ground a dead fish about the size of a tennis racket was floating on its side slowly towards the city centre. Its head had almost been cut off and drifted at a right angle to its silvery glinting carcass, on which seven bright emerald green flies were feasting. I’d already stripped half naked for the first time this heatwave. You can probably guess which half. No, I was not carrying my black jeans. If I’d fished the fish out of the canal and carried it home, then I could have made my own “True Story,” but I’m just not stylish enough to carry it off. It was very hot and I didn’t want to smell of that damned fish! A relevant fish song:

The Damned – Fish

Lowri wrote that she was surprised but not surprised that I saw a dead fish in the canal. I replied:

Surprised but not surprised? A rational fish response dictates that I am choosing and editing experiences that relate to earlier experiences. If Lowri had carried a dead heron around for “True Story,” I would instead have mentioned the fish eating heron that landed on the opposite side of the canal when I sat down to cool my feet off. The rational response would also say that a dead fish in a canal is in itself not a particularly rare or special thing, but where’s the magic in that? Had Lowri never invited me to watch “True Story” I may well have still seen that dead fish and thought nothing of it. I’d never have described it, or counted the flies on it and would probably have quickly forgotten