Lamb of God and the stage-diving toss-pots

June 27^th – At what point in a series of events (unfortunate or not) do we become responsible for the outcome? OK, those of a nervous or easily offended disposition read no further. You have been warned.

Let’s discuss two true cases and one personal true story and see if we can’t tease out where the responsibility lies and what the H&S ruling might have been.

Case 1)

Uroko Onoja, a practising polygamist with six wives, was caught by five of his other wives having sex with the sixth. She was by far the youngest of the spouses and the other five, who were jealous of her, threatened Uroko with knives and sticks, demanding he have sex with them…and right now! After servicing four of them in quick succession, and before mounting the fifth, Uroko complained of chest pains, stopped breathing and was dead within a few minutes. Now, where does the blame lie?

Is it with Uroko for submitting to the demands of the wives, by not saying;

‘I don’t think so, ladies; I’ve got a headache and I don’t feel like sex.”

Does the blame lie with the wives who couldn’t control their own sexual urges and jealousies? That his regular conjugal attention of the youngest wife had nothing to do with Uroko wanting a younger model in preference to the mid-range wives he’d already got but because she was vulnerable and insecure and needed much more comforting?

Would the H&S Executive have been satisfied if Mr. Uroko had been allowed a fifteen minute recess between bouts?

Would it have satisfied current legislation if Mr. Uroko had been allowed to get the wives to join in with a six-some, or would this have infringed the rights of the wives to ‘obtaining a participatory orgasm with a male partner’?

From the male perspective, does it really matter?

Case 2)

Kenneth Pinyan died of acute peritonitis after receiving anal intercourse from a stallion. Info-Grabber: His case led to the criminalisation (this was in 2005, btw…those Yanks, huh? Such a God-fearing bunch and so full of fun) his case led to the criminalisation of bestiality in Washington State… 2005…? Right… You really do have to re-read that then shake your head at the human race at times, don’t you? Right. OK, so, onward. Who is to blame?

Should it be Mr. Pinyan for believing that a horse would find him in the least bit attractive and want to spend the rest of its days with him as a partner…other than the fact he’d offered his body as an incentive?

Is it the legislators of Washington State by failing to protecting the good people from the advances of amorous stallions?

Would the H&S Executive have been satisfied if the Horse Racing Betting Levy had been informed as to the odds of Mr Pinyan surviving such a union and been able to open a book on the outcome?

Case 3)

I was sat in a hospital canteen when my late father was ill, just before visiting time started, having a cup of tea … now there is a H&S calamity; hospital tea… and reading a paper when a couple of nurses sat at the next table in front of me. They began chatting and I continued reading, only slightly aware of their conversation when, gradually, my attention was grabbed as I heard the one nurse say;

“…so we had to get the snipe-nosed tweezers and pull the blue-tack out; only way we could do it, his penis and urethra were in such a bad way by then…”

Who is to blame?

Is it the makers of blue-tack for designing something as sexually charged as a blob of blue squidge that just oozes fornication?

Is it the makers of blue-tack for creating something that is mouldable into a million sexually charged shapes that scream “erotica!” at the passing shopper?

Is it the makers of blue-tack and should they be up in the dock, alongside the makers of bubble-wrap and parcel aircushions?

Would the H&S Executive have been satisfied if the blue-tack had been of a firmer manufacture and so would have required a larger orifice for secretion and sexual gratification?

These are the kind of weighty problems, living in the age of Health and Safety legislation that we have to consider. I mean, where do you stand on allowing a customer in a pub to carry a tray of drinks back to his/her table if he/she hasn’t received the correct training in carrying a tray of drinks? Can you see the inherent dangers in having knives in a kitchen? Would we better off erecting scaffolding to change a light bulb rather than using a ladder? You see? We are beset with major decisions about how far we are prepared to push the envelope of stupidity in order to either enjoy ourselves or get the job done.

This is the sort of dilemma that faced Randy Blythe of the heavy metal band, Lamb of God when he returned to Czechoslovakia on this day in 2012 after a two-year gap. When he was there the last time he’d pushed a stage-diving tosser (SDT) off the stage; unfortunately, said SDT had whacked his head and had died two weeks after the incident. Lamb of God had left the country by then as their tour continued and it was only on his return that Mr. Blythe was arrested for manslaughter. So, where does the blame lie?

Is it with Mr. Blythe, who was probably sick to the back teeth with having individual wankers coming to their gig and showing off to their friends by stage-diving, regardless of whom they inconvenience and had decided that one less body on stage would make more room for the band and, because he was a stage-diver this person would be leaving the stage with some force at some point so, sooner rather than later?

Is it with the concert promoter for designating areas of the floor in front of the band an area where individual wankers can barge their way into other individual wankers in what they euphemistically call ‘the mosh pit’ regardless as to whom they inconvenience?

Is it with individual wankers being allowed into concerts at all?

The defence rests.

Strictly for The Byrds

June 26^th – Raymond Froggatt anyone?

One of the bands of the 60’s and on thro’ that I was never sure I really got, and that confused and annoyed me, was The Byrds.

It was their pre 1968 hit/miss folk-rock style that confused me a little, I think ‘cos I was into a harder edge than they put out and so, although I recognised their relevance to the 60’s scene, their cuddly bunny philosophy and their sometime syrupy production values bordering on everything I find irksome about flower-power music, and that was a turn off not a turn on; that was until they released Sweetheart of the Rodeo. Maybe it was Gram Parsons’ influence on the band that makes this album sit so well with me and mine. I know The Byrds stuff often came up for chat in the dressing room when we were gigging in the late 60’s and, I think, we were all of the same mind; Mr. Tambourine Man was a top-drawer work but Turn, Turn, Turn! (T-T-T!) and the album of the same name was a lost soul of a recording IMHO. The problem for me was that the title track, the one that set the timbre for the whole album, seemed a bit of a ‘meek shall inherit the earth’ bleat, far outside the seething demands for social change that we were all a part of, or liked to think we were; the last thing, in our vision, was a season for all things and you had to hang around and wait for it: fuck the seasons, change it now!

Mr. Tambourine Man, which went to No. 1 in the States on this day in 1965 and was originally written and recorded by Bob Dylan (The Byrds seemed to specialise in Dylan stuff recording ‘Lay Down our Weary Tune’ and ‘The Times They are A-Changin’ on the T-T-T! album) and The Byrds cover was, imo, a far, far better version than that original…and anything that anyone else has done too. See, even now I’m confused about them, The Byrds… Bloody annoying. What I can say, though, is that I have no compunction in how I view Sweetheart… which also contains two Dylan compositions; it’s just a standout album and the first glimpse of what folk-rock would become.

There was a pub in Brum that I’m desperately trying to recall but I know that, as I write this, at 00.24 on the 26^th and into my second drop of malt, I’m not going to do it. We used to gig there regularly…bugger…what was it called? The ‘something’ arms, I think…never mind, another day. Anyway, we used to gig there and on a couple of occasions we supported Raymond Froggatt (come on, keep up!) when he/it was The Raymond Froggatt Band (RFB). I remember Louis Clarke was with him at that time, him who went on to achieve great success with ELO (he also made a mint with The Pops go Classic but, draw a veil) and between Messer’s Froggatt, Clarke and the other band members they made a fair fist of covering Byrds stuff.

Talent was well on display and I think it’s the only time I’ve ever watched a band we were supporting from the front and thought;

“Not bad that.”

grudging, curmudgeonly bugger that I was even back then; I also think now;

“If the RFB could do a cover of The Byrds catalogue and I’d get it, then how come, when I hear the original band do the same stuff, the majority of the pre Sweetheart… releases, I don’t? Musical philistine, I guess, and an outcome that blows my verdicts on cover bands right out the water…sorry you’ve wasted all this precious time. Past now; gone forget it, but I did too so…it was good to have your company.

Nothing to do with Scott or the Antarctic...

June 25^th – Funny how some bands have a multitude of hits, a fan base in the millions and yet, after their time centre-stage, float off into oblivion never to be heard of again.

OK, let’s see how rock-savvy you are. I’m gonna give five clues and by the fifth you should have got the name of the band but I doubt, unless you’re something of a geek and need help in the form of chipmunk therapy, that you’ll get it before that. Here we go:

1) A duo active from the mid 70’s to the mid 80’s

2) Six number one hits, 34 charted singles, 7 platinum and 6 gold discs

3) Most popularly known by just the use of their second names

4) One name is where the school’s morning prayers and notices took

     place

5) The other name is found on the front of a Scottish breakfast cereal

So, how’d you get on? At what point in the above list did you say;

“I know!”?

Did you scratch your head and say;

“I’ve never heard of a band called ‘Assembly and Porridge’?”

Or did you think;

“I’ve got better things to do than waste time on this shit”?

OK, the band name was Hall and Oates.

There. I bet you’re so glad you stuck with it. I suppose the real test is to see if you can recall anything they recorded? I mean, when was the last time you heard one of their songs played on the radio? I have to be honest and say that I really struggled with either; it was only after about twenty minutes that I came up with Maneater and that was only because it was around at the time my life was falling apart for various reasons; not, I hasten to add, that the song’s title is in any way descriptive of anyone I knew, it was just that the song’s tone and attitude struck a chord with my mood and level of cheerfulness with the world; and that was the only reason I could recall anything at all by them. So I read up on them and was surprised to see just what they’d achieved and who rated them.

Surpassing the Everly Brothers as most successful rock/pop duo, being inducted into the songwriter’s hall of fame (they penned Every Time You Go Away – Paul Young’s No. 1 hit and Physical – Olivia-Newton John’s No. 1 hit) and being placed at No. 15 in the 100 greatest acts of all time by Billboard Magazine? I‘d say that’s not bad for a duo that barely anyone can recall.

It was on this day in 1970 that Hall and Oates recorded together for the first time under the snappy name, Whole Oats… I doubt I would have remembered that name either; it seems some bands, no matter how successful they are during their hot period, are destined for worldwide obscurity…

Procul Harum; or how to hold a grudge

June 24^th – Like many a love affair, at the start the band’s usually all good. A few good friends with an all-consuming passion in music, a creative desire and certain instrumental ability gather together and begin one of the greatest bonding sessions ever when they make music together. Most of you know I played (loose terminology used here) drums over a number of years, full on from the late 60’s through to the end of the 80’s and then sporadically up ‘til 2010, but what’s not common knowledge (biography spoiler coming up) is that I sang backing vox for all the bands I gigged with.

I’m an ex choir boy so have a voice that’s at least reasonable (compared to, say, a cat that’s having sex with a hedgehog) and so, when family or friends are together here and we gather round a piano, a full set of drums being a little out of place in such circumstances, or when I spend time with some folk-singing fellows of my acquaintance, I can join in with the joyful and emotionally bonding practise of making music together for no other reason than the thrill of making music together. This is what the first formation of a band is all about and for. There are dreams of fame and fortune of course but, much like all of us when we utter those facile words;

“If I won ten million on the National Lottery it wouldn’t change a bit not a jot.”

Yeah, sure…You’d still keep the menial employment you have and no-one would think you were lording it over them when you insisted that you pay for the drinks, the meal, the taxi…’course not. All your friends would remain just that; your friends; no change…life as normal…blah, blah…

That’s how bands go on when they first strike it popular and then the money, entourage and management come into the equation. Like Lottery Winners, all of a sudden and no matter how much you try to deny its entrance, the thought permeates;

Is it me or is it the money/fame?’

Human nature; it’s a funny old game. Anyway, as the hits and dosh pile up the first cracks start to appear. The songwriter gets royalties, the band just get performance fees, then the various factions begin to extrapolate on their influence on each record released;

‘Would it have been such a big hit if it hadn’t contained that drum pattern, the one I invented and played?’

Or

‘That harmony I added on the spur of the moment when the vox was being recorded; that made the chorus the crowd-rouser it is.’

And with this the spectre of being poorly recompensed for your artistic input into the finished article begins to permeate your soul…and that’s when it gets shitty.

When Procul Harum released A Whiter Shade of Pale and it galloped to the number one spot in the UK and then, on this day in 1967, entered the US charts on its trail to world domination, the members must all have been good chums in the light of their success. It was only later when Matthew Fisher, the organist on the track and original member, pursued his claim that Gary Brooker, the other original member and vocalist, and Keith Reid, poet and lyric writer, were cutting him out of the story of the song and its payback that friendships were…how shall I put it… dissolved. Over four years judges, committees and Law Lords deliberated on the ins-and-outs of the various claims and counterclaims.

Eventually Fisher got his way, but my suspicion is that his name was crossed out of several Christmas card lists for, in following the various transcripts of their court appearances, it’s fair to say that claws were unsheathed as the friendship contract was torn and scuffed and the former esteem of musical abilities lowered in order to discredited one or other musician causing much fur to fly…but then, the band were named after a pedigree cat, so…

In trouble? Don't think so; Adam Faith's my accountant...

June 23^rd – My feeling is that, if you want someone to look after your money the last person you’d pick is a pop star; fickle as a fart, they’d blow the lot on cars, birds, booze and drugs within the first week the waste the rest. I can’t think of a less likely statement coming from the lips of a pop singer in reply the question;

“What interests you most outside of the music industry?”

Than;

“Oh, financial management really.”

Looking back, it’s interesting to reflect on the mimicking of the US rock scene by the front rank of British pop talent. Riff Pilchard and the Shaggers, Marty Wilde (he’s still touring, honest!) Billy Fury, they all cloned the look, hairstyle and sneer that was the stock-in trade of Messer’s Presley, Cochrane and Lewis and although we didn’t quite nail it, we did it in a very British way which was, at one and the same time ,infuriating and endearing. The one thing they did do though, these Brits, was stick to what they knew and for that pop stardom rewarded them with hits and fame.

Amongst them were some who tried to branch out a little from the strait-jacket of pop idle (sorry, idol) status and try their hand at acting and, it has to be said, so very, very few of them ever made a fist of it. Wooden to the point of being indistinguishable from the kitchen table, they, Messer’s Donovan, Faithful, Heinz (don’t ask) their choice of vehicle matched their talent and it was thanks be to God that the paying public were spared the possibility of any of them attempting Shakespeare. No, far better that they eked out a living churning out trite pop than lacerate the bloated corpse of serious acting with their idiocy…although, every once in a while…

Say after me: ‘Bay-Beh’ then tell me the name of the singer?

Easy, wasn’t it? Adam Faith who was born on this day in 1940. No competition really. Seeing him on The Six-Five Special in the late fifties-early sixties he seemed to be just another stuffed-toy heartthrob who reminded one of Del Shannon but with a bigger nose. It was when, in his later career, when he tried his hand at acing that he revealed a better, more talented side to his ability. On TV as Budgie and in Love Hurts (with Zoe Wannamaker) on stage as Billy Liar and in films such as Stardust and its sequel (with David Essex) he proved he had above average acting talent for a mere pop singer…then someone forgot the maxim that opened this blurb and gave him financial control of their investments…should’ve gone to Goldman-Sachs…

As it was, Mr. Faith went to the wall owing a reported 32mill…but he did serve an ace with Chris Evert so that probably wipes out any other misdemeanour and anyway, it’s only money.

Cindy Lauper - A retraction.

June 22^nd – I would guess I’ve been as bad as the next at jumping to conclusions about things and people…what was that lovely comment… erm, oh, that’s it…

“Why did you take an instant dislike to me?”

“Saves time.”

Trouble is, do it often enough and you can sort of get into the habit of writing off people, things and events that would otherwise inform or fascinate.

Like everyone else too, I fight against the desire to be hyper-critical and judgemental (except when it comes to politicians…oh, and the over privileged and jam doughnuts that, when you bite into them, contain no jam…oh, and people who invite you round to dinner and then don’t serve a dessert). Apart from those minor irritations…oh, and conglomerates and those Go Compare ads…apart from those minor irritations I try to see the obverse side before I make a call on it or them…isn’t there a saying that goes;

“Before you declare your dislike for someone and their lifestyle, try walking a mile in their shoes; that way you can continue to dislike them AND you’ve got their shoes.”

Well, that was me and Cindy Lauper who was born on this day in 1953.

No, I didn’t steal her shoes, idiot. I mean when she first came on the music scene in the 80’s I have to admit I did write her off as just another bubble-gum songstress of the Bananarama-Bangles idiom…sort of all filler-no killer, if I may corrupt the saying. I think the media hyped the ditzy blonde, the stereotype I’d been living with since I was able to comprehend the written word, which had permeated to such a degree that it was ingrained. Luckily for me, the experiences I’ve had (I’ll never be able to use that car park again) and the things I’ve been involved in (nor that restaurant) have allowed me to alter those perceptions…that’s what I mean when I write about the content of the red-tops and slag-mags, about the Eastenders blueprint for healthy living and the cheap-to-produce abuse and suffering programmes on TV that Jeremy Kyle wallows in…sorry, got sidetracked…

Me and Cindy Lauper. Now? Well, I can’t say I’m a convert but I value her musical output and her stance on issues that both inform and educate to a greater degree now since I heard an hour-long interview with her on Radio Two…and Time After Time really is an excellent track. So, I’d like to apologise, Ms. Lauper; sorry.

i-Pod degeneration?

June 21^st – 1948 was an exceptional year.

Sir Don Bradman scored the first of his back-to-back centuries against India, the Hells Angels were founded in California, the first chapter of Alcoholics Anonymous is formed (I think they knew something about the future) HUAC started their persecutions, a pack of wolves killed several children in Russia, three of the top songs of the year were, Bumble Boogie by Freddie Martin, Woody Woodpecker by Kay Kyser and I Can’t Go On Without You by Bull Moose Jackson and his Buffalo Bearcats… and I was born, so, all-in-all a perfect year.

How times change.

Music’s grasp on almost every facet of our society and its people compares to a saturated cloth and it seeps into every corner, whether we want it to or not. The wonderful Porcupine Tree summed it up beautifully on their track; The Sound of Muzak (was it off their album The Incident? Not sure; if you feel the urge look it up, or you may know it by default, and let me know). Anyway, that track sort of encompasses music, its legacy and its very uncertain future. Certainly the methods of obtaining and reproducing what is one of the foremost discoveries and developments of humankind are legion now, and with that ease, I reckon, comes complacency. From what was a simple device for communication and descriptive storytelling we have created the soundtrack to our lives and loves. We carry millions of our favourite songs around in handy pods the size of a matchbox and can have its companionship at any time and anywhere…or we can at the moment. If earphones for iPods get any bigger we won’t be able to get into the back of a 45ft truck to listen to our streamed muzak.

The Dansette portable record player (portable providing you had access to a team of oxen and several well-proportioned friends that is) was the musical reproduction technology of choice when I was 11 or 12. It ran on a needle that travelled along the grooves cut into a revolving disc (called a record) and this needle was held by an arm that sent the sound from the disc along wires and out the speaker on the front. The needle (a high-cost piece of technological engineering which sported a diamond head – Mr. Bowie stole all his ideas) lasted a relatively short time so, if the need and depth of pocket demanded, it could be replaced by a thorn from a hawthorn tree.

It was also on this day in the year of our Lord 1948 that Columbia Records announced the breakthrough technology of the long-playing vinyl phonograph record which could hold up to 23 minutes of music…PER SIDE!!!! Eat your heart out, Apple.