A Traditional Easter

A quick show of hands please: who thinks I don’t post anywhere enough tunes by Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci?


And those who think I post far too much by them?

hands (2)Well, that seems fairly conclusive.

This, then, is from  Barafundle, their still-sounds-as-wonderful-today-as-it-did-when-it-was-released-in-1997 album:


Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci – Cursed, Coined And Crucified

More soon.

A Traditional Easter

I’d better get a disclaimer in quickly. I’m away this weekend and have decided to have me a lap-top free few days, so all of the posts that will appear over the long weekend have been written in advance. I say this purely in case I’ve chosen a tune that any of my blogging peers have also chosen; no plagiarism intended.

And so on that note, here’s The Charlatans:


The Charlatans – Judas

More soon.

A Traditional Easter

No, not organising an Easter egg hunt.

Not stuffing my big fat face full of hot cross buns either.

Nope, round these parts we like to celebrate the Easter weekend by posting some appropriate and/or vaguely blasphemous records.

And this gets one posted on this day every year:


Army of Lovers – Crucified

Nice to see another year having passed hasn’t tarnished that. It’s still fabulous and camp.

More soon.

I’m Not Too Keen on Mondays

A thing I am regularly asked about this series:

“How comes, since you’re promoting a happy Monday, you’ve never posted anything by the Happy Mondays?”

On Twitter this week, there was a thing going round about the greatest opening line of a song.

Two birds, one stone.

Son. I’m thirty.

I only went with your mother cos she’s dirty

S’poetry, that.


Happy Mondays – Kinky Afro

Have yourself a Happy Monday.

More soon.

Strings on Sunday

I’ve posted a couple of Oasis songs recently, but I’d hate to think that any of you assumed that was some kind of seal of approval in the Blur v Oasis debate.

No. Personally, I never understood why you had to pick a side. What’s wrong with liking both?

But if I absolutely had to pick a team, to nail my colours to the mast, it would undoubtedly be to the Blur entourage. There’s just more depth, more variation, to their records than anything Oasis could ever aspire to.

So, here’s a tune which would very easily sit in my S.S.O.S. series, but it deserves better:


Blur – The Universal

Often, when I haven’t managed to get a ticket for Glastonbury, I will sit at home, watch the coverage and wish I was there; not because of whichever act is headlining, but because of the whole vibe of being there.

But in 2009, watching this hurt. There’s nothing like being part of a massive crowd, living in the moment, watching a band who means so much to you perform. It’s like a punch to the gut every time I remember that I wasn’t there that year.

More soon.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Let’s be honest, it was only a matter of time before I got round to posting this.

Bragg, Stipe and Buck having some fun:


Billy Bragg – You Woke Up My Neighbourhood

I don’t usually post videos in this series, but I’m gonna this time for two reasons:

  1. The appearance of a rather young and svelte Phill Jupitus, who I assume also directed (as he did with Billy’s Sexuality video)
  2. The inclusion of those facts that The Chart Show used to wang up on screen. Y’know, just to make us all yearn for simpler times when people didn’t throw dead fish into the Thames to try and make a political point.

More soon.

Saturday Night Coming Up

Last Saturday, we left our hero (that’s me, by the way) having just dropped for the first time, standing (I can’t claim I was dancing, although there was definitely some sort of rhythmical movement going on. Twitching seems more accurate), sweat pouring off me, staring out of the glass ceiling of the conservatory part of the bar we were in, rubbing the top of my head and trying to avoid eye contact with anybody, as I was pretty sure I’d be rumbled.

I mentioned two songs that I remember being played that night, and posted one. This is the other; many people seem to get the name of the act and the song mixed up, presumably because the name of the act is mentioned in the song, but the song title isn’t.

Confused? You will be. I know I was.


Zombie Nation – Kernkraft 400

I think, responsible adult that I now am, I should add a little footnote to these posts. Even though I mention having taken drugs in these posts, this should in no way be construed as me condoning or recommending you do the same. Don’t do ’em, kids.

More soon.



Something Got Me Started

It’s funny, isn’t it, how the whole Brexit ideology seems to have very swiftly dissolved into rhetoric and symbolism.

Nowhere is this more true than the issue of the British passport.

Out of the EU, they told us, our passports can be blue again, like in the old days!


We could have chosen to have blue passports when we were in the EU. We just decided not to. We decided to go with the maroon colour we’re all so familiar with. Y’know, to fit in with our friends in Europe. (The title of this post is a simply red/Simply Red gag. Geddit?)

I’d also wager that most people don’t actually give a flying fuck what colour their passport is, as long as it does it’s job with the minimum of fuss.

And by “minimum of fuss” I mean this: less queuing at passport control.

Of course, deciding to leave the EU, and therefore making movement between the UK and the rest of the EU more complicated, slower, does the opposite of this. It’s a good job we’re used to queuing.

And then this week, gloriously, it was announced that the contract for producing the new passports was awarded to…a French/Dutch company. Hey! Alannis! You might want to rewrite at least one of the lines of Ironic to include this!

Some have said that EU rules force us to accept the French/Dutch bid as it was the cheapest, and that may be the case. But come on….if the Government accepted a bid that cost us more, then they’re going to get slaughtered for that instead.

Here’s some words you won’t hear me say often: I actually feel sorry for the British government at this point. What were they supposed to do?

Just wait until the UKIP lot find out the company in question is called De La Rue. Bit too close to Danny La Rue, that. And he was a homosexual, which is definitely not the stiff upper lip way.

This country – any country – is run as a business. A business running at an absolutely massive deficit, but a business nonetheless. So, if you put a contract out for tender, provided the standard of the product is acceptable, then it doesn’t matter where the bidding firm is based, you accept the most attractive, competitive bid.

The EU hasn’t forced us to agree for a French/Dutch company to produce the new passport; simple business and economical practices direct us to.

The contract represents a £120 million saving. Brexiteers (Oh how I hate that term) should be rejoicing that we have been able to place the business where we choose and save some money which can be invested elsewhere.

But no.

Much better to moan about the fact it’s them Frenchies what did it (and not mention the Dutch, because we quite like them and they’re not French).

As ridiculous and meaningless as it is: You got what you want, didn’t you? A blue passport (tick!) produced as aesthetically pleasingly as possible (tick!), as cheaply as possible (tick!).

Perhaps you should chuck a load of passports into the Thames as a protest?

A tune, selected for the irony of it’s title more than anything (and, of course, because it is a totally brilliant tune):


The Icicle Works – Love is a Wonderful Colour

More soon,