Lowdown on the New 10 – Get Radical

Who? Get Back Guinozzi!

Title: Carpet Madness
Label: fatcat records
Tell me more: Debut album from a five-piece that alternates between London and the south of France. Mushy pies or baguettes?
The Lowdown: Has the look and feel of a post-punk album from the early 1980s but its influences are far more ubiquitous. There’s the breathy summer of love Gainsbourg-Birkin aura of I Don’t Want to Sleep Alone while L A echoes the radicalism of female avant-garde acts like The Raincoats or Delta 5. Throw in a few electro rhythms a la Stereolab, and the simplicity of Belle and Sebastian, and you have a fine debut album. Extra Brownie points for an uncomplicated version of Police and Thieves that has more far more impact than The Clash’s take on the reggae classic.
Anything else? Female vocalist Eglantine Gouzy says she “sings English in a baboon style”.

Who? Joni Mitchell, Phil Ochs and James Taylor

Title: Amchitka
Label: Greenpeace
Tell me more: Amchitka was a unique concert in Vancouver in October 1970: it didn’t have the profile of Monterey or Woodstock and it hasn’t had an official release until now. But this folk-fest is remembered for helping to get Greenpeace going. The environmental group was in its infancy but a founding member, Irving Stowe, put on this event to raise funds to send a protest boat to Alaska where the nasty US government was conducting nuclear weapons tests.
The Lowdown: With a rousing introduction from Stowe, the brilliant Ochs gets motoring with an anthem for radicalism, rhythms of Revolution, and provides thought-provoking lyrics on tracks like I Ain’t Marching Anymore with his stunningly evocative voice. While Taylor and Mitchell are household names Ochs remains largely undiscovered. Taylor then Mitchell give their sets but they can’t quite match Ochs although Mitchell comes close on Woodstock and, with Taylor, a version of the Byrds’ Mr Tambourine Man.
Anything else? Visitors to the Stowe household were the only people to hear these tapes prior to this official release. It’s available from www.amchitka-concert.com/

Who? Horror Story

Title: Songs From the Devils Jukebox
Label: Bastard Son records
Tell me more: This album appears to have been lost in some sort of timewarp from 2006. It also includes an EP, Sons of Hell Island.
The Lowdown: The best kind of album a writer can get is when it comes with no information at all. Songs … is a complete mystery to Porky. When this arrived at the pigsty I had to look on the net to discover they’re from New Plymouth, my second favourite city in New Zealand that begins with N (after Napier). Horror Story are in the same vein as American legends The Misfits and they also recall a Scottish outfit Mother and the Addicts – plenty of ghostly make-up, horror-type graphics and a Cramps-style sound. Horror Story’s love of eerie Gothic psychobilly has been done before but Songs From the Devils Jukebox (their lack of an apostrophe) is still a fine rock and roll/ punk album without any pretences to being a groundbreaker.

Anything else? www.newplymouthrockers.co.nz

Who? Buraka Som Sistema

Title: Fabriclive 49
Label: Fabric/ Rhythmethod
Tell me more: Released in tandem with Magda’s Fabric 49, these two albums boost the output of the fabulously famous Fabric series of dance music.
The Lowdown: Fabric is a London superclub, reliant on superstar DJs playing to superstar celebrities with the paparazzi waiting outside for any shots of famous faces behaving badly. Buraka Som Sistema are from Portugal with a boxful of records from Angola and as you would expect those latin-African rhythms shine through as various club classics are put through the mixer. The Magda album is a simpler record of drum and bass/ techno and will have greater appeal among those who like their dance music in the no frills brand.
Anything else? Dancehall star Sizzla features on Gone Too Far and there’s appearances by Diplo, DJ Riot and L-Vis 1990 on Fabriclive.

Fanzine update

In a recent post about fanzines (http://craighaggis.wordpress.com/2009/10/09/193/) I declared “The fanzine is dead, long live the fanzine” describing how the printed, stapled zine has found a new medium online.
I wrote that the zine was “a footnote in the history of the counter-culture” but I’ve since discovered evidence that, in fact, the printed zine is enjoying a quiet renaissance.
The Independent newspaper in Britain recently published a piece, headlined The scene that smells of zine spirit and found that the fanzine community in the UK is the healthiest it’s been for a decade. It reported that zine fests or symposiums are growing.
Check out the article here: http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/features/fanzines%E2%80%94the-scene-that-smells-of-zine-spirit-1792675.html
The net appears to be aiding the zine scene as it can promote itself better and means quicker payment via paypal and therefore quicker shipping.
A weekend ago, here in New Zealand, where I currently live, I attended the annual Wellington Zine Fest, which received some coverage on Radio National. There was a range of zines, with many being personal ones or featuring cartoons. There wasn’t too many zines focusing purely on music, nor any sport ones, sadly. Surprisingly, it was busy and shows there’s quite an interest in the DIY print culture.

The Lowdown on the New 9

Who? Katy Carr

Title: Coquette
Label: Deluce recordings
Tell me more: Carr transports herself back to Wartime England, where she takes on the characters of many women of the era who played such pivotal roles during such arduous and fearful times, from the entertainers like Marlene Dietrich to coquettes and women who worked in munitions factories.
The Lowdown: Carr weaves a string of evocative tales of life in the ’40s. This is a very European record; the sound of English folk, with occasional French vocals and a truly Teutonic song, the brilliant Berliner Ring, which bears similarities in essence to Goldfrapp’s Seventh Tree.

Carr is certainly full of ideas and she isn’t afraid of subjects like the death of a loved one. With her backing band The Aviatiors (cruelly uncredited) has produced a mystical, ethereal record. In addition, the Art Deco-influenced artwork which has Carr dressed in wartime clothing, from glam-wear to factory apparel, fits the mood.

With so many female artists following a very tired formula (hello Katie Melua) it’s highly refreshing to see a woman go against the grain, in terms of music, writing and concept.
Trivia: Carr is a qualified pilot having served with the RAF.

Who? delgirl

Title: Porchlight
Label: Creative NZ
Tell me more: Deirdre Newall, Erin Morton, Lynn Vare are delgirl, playing, between them, ukelele, trumpet, bodhran, and banjo.
The lowdown: Gothic hymnals and “spaghetti western theme music” are among the ingredients of an album that is like few others. All songs are individually written and that individuality is clear. They each have a story, for example, Morton’s Dying Seal, about the discovery of an animal on a beach that may or may not be about to meet its maker. Or Vare’s song “for the lonely”, Waiting. For all the singular writing input, they sound exceptionally cohesive and you can detect three people working assiduously (in a studio somewhere in the hills) and with a common purpose.
Trivia: To uncover the origins of the group’s name, look at the names of the protagonists.

Who? The Phenomenal Handclap Band

Title: The Phenomenal Handclap Band
Label: Tummy Touch records
Tell me more: Using the term melting pot for bands dipping into a variety of genres has become a bit of a cliché. But with contributions from the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion and TV on the Radio and delving deep into their love of Blondie, ESG and Can this debut can be described as truly pan-global.
The lowdown: Disco, not disco. The late 70s in the late zeros. Prog rock into the early days of new York hip-hop; the Go! Team shags the Tom Tom Club; a trip around the world in an hour; an orchestra on the streets; the next thing Lady Gaga will rip off … It ain’t what you do … it’s the way that you do it. And the Phenomenal Handclap Band do it extremely well indeed.
Trivia: There’s nine band members doing the clapping.

Who? The Clonius

Title: Between the Dots
Label: Ubiquity
Tell me more: Debut album from The Clonius aka Paul Mohavedi, an Austrian based in America (a relative of Arnie perhaps?).
The lowdown: The Clonius do something quite good, but they do something that’s been done many times before, by numerous people. A so-called “beat navigator”, Mohavedi blends soul, jazz, downbeat, breakbeat, sampling … electronic music for the laidback. It’s great at a cafe on a Sydney beach, or a Sunday barbie with the lads and lasses. It serves a purpose but floats by on the stereo and track 10 isn’t much of a progression from the opener.

Who? Matt Joe Gow and the Dead Leaves

Title: The Messenger
Label: Liberation Music
Tell me more: New Zealand artist now living in Melbourne.
The lowdown: The lovely Maria at Liberation was certain Porky would like this album, although the site summary does say country music and heavy metal may get less preference than other styles. But Porky is an open-minded kinda pig so let’s rock and roll. It’s earthy, intriguing and good value: Given the earthy nature of the songs I would imagine Gow and co would listen to Cash and Parsons on the tour bus, and have Taylor Swift at the bottom of the shoebox. Come To Mama, She Say kicks along at a thigh-slapping rate; while The Light possesses oodles of harmonica, organ, and electric guitars.

Who? Gearloose

Title: The Tenth March
Label: self-released
Tell me more: Gearloose is basically Christchurch musician Steven King. He’s also recorded a self-titled album (that’s the cover above).
The lowdown: I’ve always felt they do things differently in New Zealand’s South Island, and thank goodness for that. Dunedin is renowned for its student scene, Christchurch has it’s distinctive bands and if you dare venture to Gore you’ll hear Country music, Kiwi style. The six tracks on this EP were recorded after King fell for a very good female friend he’d known for two years. Ah well, we all know what happened next and King tells the tale of woe with sensitivity and that ol’ ‘live and learn’ attitude. His voice isn’t especially strong but he can tell a great tale with the soundscape of folkish harmonies, guitars and synthesizers. The album’s just as good.
gearloose.tumblr.com

Legends of Indie: House of Love

 

 

As a teenager during the 1980s, music was best consumed underneath the table, like a dog with a bone it had pinched from above.

Big hair and shambolic, flourescent clothing wasn’t for independent sorts who’d bemuse our parents (and most of our peers) with our preference for Echo and the Bunnymen, Lloyd Cole and the Commotions and other long-named bands. Indie kids were to be seen, but not heard.

The radio and the charts were an endless stream of post-new romantic synth pop, and all sorts of corporate-grown recycled product.

But I had fallen in love, with a band by the name of the House of Love. I was smitten and it would take some time for me to get over the inevitable parting.

In my mid-teens I was of that breed that was too young for punk and too immature for post-punk. We’d missed a lot, and there was little of substance to make up for the shortfall.

In my small north-eastern Scottish town I would be recommended, by the plumbers and joiners of the distillery that provided me with my first wage, Brothers in Arms, Queen Greatest Hits Vol 1 and the latest album by Level 42, which I would buy at John Menzies in the High Street (and truth be told I actually quite liked).

Then, at the equivalent of sixth-form college, those ears were turned to the Jesus and Mary Chain, the Cocteau Twins, The Smiths, New Order and Primal Scream, who with 60s revivalists, The Thanes, would perform at my first ever gig, in Aberdeen.

In 1987 indie music was preparing to say its goodbyes to shambling, the floppy-fringed sub-genre whose godfathers were The Byrds, and which even Bobby Gillespie was one the Ace Faces. It had been the dominant scene for a couple of years and produced some of the decade’s finest pop records. But all scenes have a lifespan.

Baggy, Madchester, rave, techno and grunge were months, or years, away.

 

There was a vacuum, and into that came the House of Love.

Led by Guy Chadwick, he was ably assisted by his ‘Paul MacCartney’, Terry Bickers, a German Andrea Heukamp, New Zealander Chris Groothuizen and Pete Evans. Heukamp would leave after the first two singles, Real Animal and Shine On.

Destroy the Heart was the single of 1988 and John Peel’s listeners agreed, when voting in their Festive 50. A monumental self-titled debut and a fourth single, Christine, followed; Fontana snapped them up and released an album, confusingly also called The House of Love (but known generally as Fontana) and a re-released Shine On gave them their sole British chart hit.

But Bickers had left, famously while travelling on an English motorway, and some say the gloriously tense, edgy sound had been removed.

Two albums followed, Babe Rainbow in 1992, which I personally think almost matches their debut, and the seminal ahead of its time Audience With the Mind a year later. And that was it. One minor UK hit was scant reward for their immense talents.

Chadwick went solo, recorded a decent album in 1998, and in 2005, in a surprise move, the band reformed – with Chadwick and Bickers having set aside their, ahem, bickering to reform for a tour and an album, Days Run Away.They were softer but hadn’t lost their edge.

What made them so good? I often wonder if they were just another indie band but there was something mystical, almost spiritual about HoL. I was an impressionistic teen, lacking in self-confidence and I found a bedfellow in the band, the same way others my age did with The Smiths.

There was nothing in the lyrics that was aimed at creating a new world or addressing current trends, just simple heart-filled lyrics about love, lust, life and everything inbetween. Chadwick’s beautiful voice, Bickers’ deranged guitar playing, the intense musical relationship between the four.

The albums have been re-released in the past few years along with a series of compilations so there is clearly still considerable interest in the band, more than 15 years after the original line-up split up.

As part of this article, I tried to contact Chadwick or anyone involved with the band to find out what they’re up to and arrange an interview. Emails went out to addresses (or presumed ones) of people associated with the band such as Suzi Gibbons, Mick Griffiths, the company who dealt with their PR for the previous album, the unofficial website and Art and Industry, which released Days Run Away, to no avail. So where are the House of Love?

The only reply I received was from Dave Roberts of the unofficial website, who had been told by Terry Bickers in May that the band were “rehearsing new material and planned to record a few songs “in the not too distant future”.

Here’s hoping.

The excellent unofficial website can be found at: http://hem.passagen.se/nyholm/holindex.html

 

The cover for the debut album: no words, just two gaunt faces.

Bomb Factory is waiting for you

Bomb Factory. To the casual eye this could be any bolshy punk band, with lots of shouting, angry lyrics … and some more shouting.

True, there’s some angry lyrics, some very angry lyrics in fact, and some shouting. But Bomb Factory are a few notches above the passionless punk-by-numbers brigade, the self-proclaimed political bands who put noise before content.

Bomb Factory are out of Cambridge, one half of that mythical Oxbridge colossus, but, outwith the centuries-old college area, a typical south of Birmingham town with plenty of working class estates for the students to avoid.

With an elitist educational system, the plush, Georgian buildings of the city centre, and all manner of plummy accents abounding during the university terms, this East Anglian town offers plenty of inspiration for an agit-punk band offering thoughtful insights into our society like Bomb Factory.

But then so does so much about the world. Religion, CCTV, the invasion of privacy, the consumer society, and on it goes. Rubbish, rubbish, everywhere. Not just in beautiful Cambridge but in every town in the UK and beyond.

So, Bomb Factory offer a bit of a push against the perpetual shove, an antidote to the poison we’re dealt with every day.

I first came across Bomb Factory while working on a newspaper in Suffolk, when a colleague mentioned a corrosive, explosive band from nearby Cambridge. They were still congealing at this time, and I moved out of the region before getting a chance to see them live, alas.

A demo EP was released in 2006, called White Noise! White Noise! White Noise! [In The Heads Of The Girls And The Boys], a cracking wee gem that resonates with anger and purpose but with a maturity that belies the, well, maturity of the band.

There’s been bugger all since, but on November 2, Bomb Factory have a new self-titled EP, issued on CD and as a download. It’s reviewed in Lowdown On The New 8, the previous column.

See their website for details of how to obtain it: http://bombfactory.blogspot.com/

Ahead of its release, I caught up with vocalist Ranting Jack to find out more.

Porky: Bomb Factory, sounds like a tabloid headline. I can imagine some shifty looks, and a long Cambridgeshire police file.

It is a tabloid headline. It’s an attention grabber; a big ‘fuck off’ to anyone who doesn’t like it. Some people might laugh and think it childish or maybe cartoon-like, but when we chose it there were bombs going off on tubes and buses and it wasn’t very funny. But when you turned on the radio all you got was Snow Patrol or some such vomit. So we wanted to talk about what was going on and we wanted to use the songs to reflect it back at people. This is happening outside your window; this is how we spend our time and money; this is what we look like, and It. Is. Fucked. Up.

Porky: If a radio one DJ, or similar moron, asked about Bomb Factory, what would you tell them, in one minute, the philosophy of the band is.

I’d say it was about trying to live, to really live for just a short while instead of going through the motions. The rest of the time what we call living is like a trip to Ikea – traipsing along, following the arrows painted on the fucking floor in case we see something we shouldn’t; gawping at all the shit in shiny wrappers they dangle in front of us to keep us quiet. Bomb Factory is about wanting to feel something. No self-pity, no bleeding hearts. Noise and truth. Love and hate. Blood and fire.

Porky: You’ve played a lot of gigs in Cambridge and East Anglia. Has this built up a fanbase that supports fanzines, webzines, and groupies?

*laughs at thought of groupies*. We do get people who like us though! At almost every gig there will be one or two people who come up at the end slightly breathless with an odd look in their eyes and tell us they really liked it. Really liked it. They tend to go out and do things like painting our demo covers on to the backs of their jackets and changing their Myspace names to our song titles and stuff.

Porky: The lead track of the new EP, Tapes is about “a descent into one man’s paranoia at surveillance society Britain as he sits at a kitchen table covered in nails and wires.” What inspired this track?

This started out with a guy from Cambridge called Miles Cooper who was driven over the brink into obscene acts of violence against randoms (people – ed) by his paranoia at ‘surveillance society’. The guy was sending letter bombs to people at the DVLA and other organs of oppression. As if blowing the hands off single mothers earning a crust in some shitty post room somewhere is going to change the world. Miles got caught and sent down, which is how we know his name, but he left us with a song idea. Just a little glimpse into the mind of a guy who can sit having a cup of Rosie while stuffing nails into a jiffy bag. You can empathise with the sentiment if not the actions. That feeling of total suffocation. The sense that there’s no escape from the electronic eyes stripping the skin off you – leaving your internal organs and all your crappy little secrets exposed to some fat bloke sat in front of a CCTV screen eating crisps and wanking.

Porky: Explain the thinking behind the cover, which features a man that initially appears to be in a terrorist headgear – but is actually a Tesco supermarket carrier bag?

It’s about suffocation again. All of us slowly suffocating inside the carrier bags they stick over our heads when we’re born. All chained together in the funeral procession at the checkout while, inside your head, there’s all these emotions, all this love and hate and joy and rage waiting to burst out. What’s first? Do you let it all out or does your head explode inside the bag? Would anyone notice if it did? You’d still be stood there in the bag only there’d be nothing inside it, just a lifeless lump of flesh. Come to think of it, how many people do you know who that may have already happened to? There’s also something slightly sordid about that image isn’t there? I mean, what is he doing?! Look into his eye…

Porky: There’s been numerous politically-motivated bands over the years, the punk acts, Crass, Easterhouse, the Redskins, Nofx, Public Enemy and so forth, and countless others that, if not overtly political have been quite independent and forthright (Manic Street Preachers for example). Do you feel that pop has the ability to change minds or at the least to get people to think?

I don’t know if we are political. Maybe. It’s more about the personal as political I suppose. Aristotle said man was a ‘political animal’. Like I said before, it is personal for us. If it becomes personal for other people too then maybe that makes it political. Discuss. The point is the songs have to be about something not just how big your dick is or how girls/boys might like you if only they knew the real you. Boo hoo. Dry your eyes, mate, and then fuck off.

Porky: Is this tradition still alive in Britain?

I’m sure it is. People will always want to give vent to their frustrations. It might not be on the Chris Moyles show but ’twas ever thus. If you want something better then go and look under some rocks.

Porky: The first ‘proper’ Bomb Factory release was in 2004 and there’s been various releases in various formats since. But no album. When will that anomaly be rectified?

When we earn enough money from selling our organs for pet food to afford the studio time. This is the first recording we have been able to get professionally produced and mastered so it has raised the bar. But listen to it. Listen to how good it is! I tell you what; if I owned a record label I’d be throwing cash and bodily fluids at these guys to get them on it. How about you…?

Porky: Best moment on tour or at a local gig?

There are a few to choose from. Scaring about 30 Welsh bikers out of a boozer in darkest Norfolk maybe? Or the time we played with the Towers of London and the amps caught fire and their lead singer got nicked; that was good. Then there was the time our guitarist threw himself at the drum kit, missed, hit his head on the wall and knocked himself out. Every gig is good in its own way.

Porky: Who’s your biggest opponents?

Apathy, ignorance and the trash celebrity elite they set up on plastic pedestals for us to worship and aspire to.

Porky: God Loves Us and He Hates You is an obvious favourite of the band’s. It sounds like Ranting Jack, and the whole band, detest religion. Is this viewpoint from a personal experience or inspired by a particular event?

No event in particular. Pick an atrocity. The Siege of Jerusalem? 9/11? It’s about the bastards who think they can bomb the world into thinking like them or into not thinking at all. It’s about the people who strap explosive belts to children and the mentally ill. It’s about cretins who think being gay is evil or think they have some exclusive access to the VIP room at the afterlife party.

Porky: You once played with Half Man Half Biscuit, which sounds like a curious mix. What was that like?

As it turns out, that was a storming gig. The HMHB fans were well into the post punk guitar clatter. The band themselves were good people too.

Porky: Can Bomb Factory bring down the capitalist system and replace it with an economic system based on equality, peace, justice and cream cakes for all.

All we can hope to do is burst the apathy bubble. Everything you do, say or feel can be a revolutionary act if you live your life and don’t let other people live it for you. Stop getting your emotions in a multipack from the supermarket. Turn off ‘I’m a Celebrity… Shoot Me in the Face’, throw Jordan’s autobiography into the cleansing flames and step outside. Bomb Factory is waiting for you…

Lowdown on the New 8 – Independents day

Who? Ian Brown

Title: My Way
Label: Polydor

Tell me more: You wouldn’t think from listening to any of Brown’s six solo albums that he was once the front man of the Stone Roses, the fey indie pop and burgeoning dance rythms having been truly ditched.
Why the fek should I listen to this? Brown was listening to a lot of Michael Jackson during the recording of My Way which was virtually completed before the alleged King Of Pop’s big goodbye. Strangely, the Jacko influences help drive this album, giving some ooomph to the typical Brown brand of psychedelia and pop. It takes a few listens, as do all Brown albums, but it’s worth the effort – Marathon Man and Just Like You are among Brown’s finest songs. There’s none of the angry world-weary observations as on 2007’s The World Is Yours, the Mancunian preferring to settle some scores and set the record straight, such as the apparent riposte to former Roses member John Squire on For The Glory.
Or should I take it a stick and beat the shit out of it? Whatever possessed him to cover In the Year 2525? It may have a sensible futuristic view, but I cringe every time I hear it.
Trivia: Brown’s songs have featured in a few episodes of the CSI franchise.

Who? The Verlaines

Title: Corporate Moronic
Label: dunedinmusic.com
Tell me more: The Verlaines formed in Dunedin in 1981 and soon became part of that unique city sound, given an audience by the local label, Flying Nun. Death and the Maiden was covered by Pavement’s Stephen Malkmus.

Why the fek should I listen to this? Maybe it’s the isolation of the place, maybe it’s the creative student community, but Dunedin has always had some groundbreaking bands. The Verlaines continue to be one of those. Corporate Moronic (a poke in the eye to the way labels churn out happy-clappy tunes) namechecks people like General Lee and Socrates, wonders if there’s a concept called “post-acne anarchy” and generally screams “intellegentsia”. It’s also about many other things, often simple things. Above all, Corporate Moronic is beautifully written and performed.
Or should I take it a stick to it and beat the shit out of it? It isn’t without its faults, but they’re not really worth bothering with.
Trivia: The title of their finest three minutes, Death and the Maiden, comes from a painting by Edvard Munch and references the 19^th century French poets, Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine. The words, “Get shot by Verlaine” is about how Rimbaud was killed by his lover.

Who? Bomb Factory

Title: Tapes
Label: self-released
Tell me more: The band will tell their story in an interview with Porky Prime Cuts, that will be posted in the new few days.
Why the fek should I listen to this? The lead track, Tapes, is about how privacy is becoming a fading luxury. It feels like you’re in the mind of the person they describe, who becomes very unhinged at the society he lives in. The third track of the EP, God Loves Us and He Hates You, is about a subject very dear to their hearts. It may clock in at only 9 minutes 32 seconds, but you feel like you’ve had the musical equivalent of Socialist Worker lodged in your ears, in terms of the use of language, rather than the actual politics. Lack of privacy, organised religion and the repressive times we live in: it’s a tale of the times.
Or should I take it a stick to it and beat the shit out of it? Ranting Jack barks a little too much. You feel some subtelty would be more telling.
You can buy it here: http://bombfactory.blogspot.com/

Who? Tiki Taane

Title: Flux
Label: self-released
Tell me more: Taane’s well-received Past Present Future album (2007) remixed and padded out with new tracks.
Why the fek should I listen to this? The advantage of listening to a remix album without having heard the original is that I have two fresh ears; therefore I can take Flux on its own merits. Taane uses various knob-twiddlers to create reggae, dub, electro etc mixes, some of which work, some of which don’t. A clear highlight is David Lange is Da Bomb, which takes considerably from the former prime minister of New Zealand’s famous Oxford Union address in 1985 in which he basically told the US bomb-loving leaders to piss off, as well as some nuclear bomb information messages. The ever-evolving nature of the tracks, sounds, beats and samples makes for an intriguing ride.
Or should I take it a stick to it and beat the shit out of it? A copy of Past Present Future is not necessarily needed to detect that a couple of the remixers aren’t quite sure of what they’re seeking to achieve.
Trivia: Taane was in Salmonella Dub for 11 years, most of them as frontman.

Attic Dweller

Who? Flowered Up

Title: A Life With Brian
Label: Warners
Tell me more: The actual title of the album released in 2005, is The Best Of … , but this contains all the tracks of their 1991 album, in their original order, with the same cover, with the addition of just one track, Weekender (12” version). They came out of the Baggy scene of the early 90s that fomented traditional indiepop with the developing rave sound.
Why the fek should I listen to this? I re-discovered this in the bargain bin, tempted as much by the price than memories of a lost classic. At the time of its original release there were many similar bands, such as the Stone Roses but it was the dug-addled hedonism of the Happy Mondays that brought the biggest comparisons. The Mondays had a lunatic called Bez who danced about on stage with maracas; the Londoners had Barry Mooncult, who was dressed as a flower.

But it wasn’t that simple. I can hear an awful lot more than when I first heard A Life With Brian all those years ago. It took baggy or indie-dance to another level and they had a modicum of success. Debut single It’s On was piano driven and sounded fresh at the time.

As I had just about finished writing this I read the sad news that the lead singer, Liam Maher, had died aged 41. The Times online version included an obituary, a testament to the significance of the bands of that time.
Or should I take it a stick to it and beat the shit out of it? Their finest moment is often regarded as the hedonistic anthem Weekender, all 13 minutes of it and with an accompanying video that was more famous than the track. But it is repetitive and overlong. Reviews of A Life With Brian weren’t particularly complimentary at the time, and I’m wondering if my quality control is weaker now than it was in the early 90s when I gave this a cursory listen or if I have a finer ear for music now. I like to think the former.
Trivia: Many of the online tributes to Maher are on football fan forums, such as an unofficial Crystal Palace one.

Special mention

Various ‘artists’

Birds of NZ

The 37 artists here are New Zealand’s native birds, with only the moa being unable to make an appearance on account of it being extinct.

A quirky and popular spot on Radio New Zealand’s Morning Report programme is about a minute of chirping from the likes of the Sooty Shearwater or Buller’s Mollymawk. Bird names are a little bit of contention as the traditional Maori names (Titi and Toroa for those two, respectively) have largely been supplanted by the colonial English names. Politics in birds, who’d have thought it. Sadly, available only on download (link below) so I can’t send it to everyone I know from Canada to Carlisle for Christmas. Do the birds get royalties?

http://www.amplifier.co.nz/default,52109.sm

Monkeys with typewriters

The fanzine is dead: long live the fanzine.

As a former fanzine editor I find it almost eerie that the self-produced, stapled-together publication, written with more love than skill, is largely passing into the anals of history, a footnote in the history of the counter-culture.

You can blame the electronic era, but, actually, we need to celebrate it because it’s the saviour of anyone with a few words to say.

From the mid-1980s to the late 1990s, I was avidly collecting zines, which would vary from 12-page dedications to Aztec Camera, to bulky, generic zines on indie music, most of them coming in the handy A5 format. The fun was in discovering these gems in the classified ad sections of the music mags, or in other zines. I would write a cheque (or postal order), enclose a stamped addressed envelope and about six weeks later it would pop through the letterbox.

There weren’t all good but most zines were written with enthusiasm, a knowledge of the subject and delivered in a readable manner. I still have several copies of a wonderful publication called Pure Joy, a paen to Julian Cope that had incisive and well-researched articles, good quality photographs and was brilliantly laid out. I also recall being impressed by a ska zine called Zoot; Shy Like Me, the only issue of which I ever saw contained THREE flexi-disks, and a wonderful zine all about fey English pop with with every page in flourescent green and oranges (I forget the title).

There was also a proliferation of football fanzines, established by diehard fans fed up with the club’s official mouthpieces and the media in general and sold outside the ground on match days. There are too many fantastic examples of club zines, but I have to single out a Celtic FC rag called Not The View, born out of the frustration of fans towards the awful pro-board mag The Celtic View, also known as Pravda. It’s still going (issue 177 just out) and looks as good as it ever did, though I don’t know what sales would be in comparison to its heyday.

These were labour of loves, cheap gifts (often the postage was more than the publication) from dedicated writers with more enthusiasm than sense.

I was one of them, producing from 1995 to 1998 five rags and contributing to a few others. One had Kenny Dalglish on the cover but had nothing to do with football; another was about a band called The House of Love, and the other two, Words Fail Me and Monkey With A Typewriter, included interviews with the likes of Travis (one of their first) and the Wedding Present, and went off on tangents about Scottish third division football and an American street novelist called Iceberg Slim. It took forever to arrange and conduct interviews, write the articles, sub it, lay out the pages, take it to the printer then try to sell the thing, which by that stage you just wanted to stick in a bin. Essentially, they were fun.

Every town in Tory Britain had at least one zine written on a typewriter or a second-hand PC, featuring bands who may well have split up by the time of publication.

I came across a great wee zine recently, called Ice Cream For Quo, free if postage included, which has pieces headlined Some fanzines I’ve written for, Some famous people I’ve seen and The Day I Met Kylie Minogue.

In New Zealand, where I now live, I found in a internet/ anarchist bookshop, now gone sadly, a zine devoted to the Auckland punk scene called Panik! that came out in 2005 and had some great pics and articles on North Island punk bands. That, alas, was the only issue but it showed that the art of the zine isn’t dead (unlike punk). The shop also had a mag about Christian Anarchism (surely an oxymoron) and a vegan zine featuring Maria Sharapova on the cover.

But the art of the printed publication is largely dying, as the numbers of printed zines have fallen considerably over the past decade or so and the outlets have narrowed.

The reason for this is the electronic age, which reduces costs and the laborious task of distributing the hard copy.

However, the fanzine is enjoying a revival; it’s had to change format. The internet has created an army of people with a lot to get off their chest. Once there was a handful of printed zines dedicated to Morrissey, now he’s got hundreds of webzines singing his praises. Picture quality has improved, the material can be issued immediately and feedback can be left on forums. This is indeed a golden age for people with something to say. And, of course, I have my own cyber space. What you are reading now is basically a fanzine. Without the staples.

My city centre library has a small section dedicated to printed fanzines, and the wonderful staff there categorise each one as per their objective – music, personal, comics, art, general etc. Clearly, there’s an interest in zines, or at the very least the library feels a duty to stock examples of them.

On the right of this page are links to various websites and blogs and within these are links to hundreds, if not thousands more. That shows people still want to write about things they love.

If anyone is producing a printed zine, please send to PO Box 10904, The Terrace, Wellington 6143, NZ and I will review it. All links to webzines are also gratefully received.

Uni and Her Ukelele talk to Porky

Uni and her ukelele is a one woman extravaganza; a self-proclaimed neo-vintage, pop raconteur/ chanteuse.

She’s a serious performer who doesn’t take herself too seriously, and drags punk rock back to the 1920s, where it belongs. As you might be able to ascertain from the moniker, Uni plays with a ukelele, and boy does she play it well.

Porky was privileged to catch the Goddess of Uke at Mighty Mighty in Wellington, New Zealand, during the Southern Hemisphere winter. Dressed like a purty party gurl, Uni played mainly her own songs and mixed them with stuff like Bruce Springsteen’s Dancing In the Dark (I am sure it was that but by that stage the whisky had hit hard and I was mesemerised by the big breasts and bigger rears of the, ahem, support act, the Real Hot Bitches).

Bruce would have been impressed. How do I know this? ‘Cause I get the impression he would appreciate a hot chick in 1920s gear stringing along to a ukelele.
Before Uni began recording ahead of her West Coast tour (America not places like Greymouth and Westport in New Zealand) that takes in dates like the Second Annual Great Handcar Regatta and Claude’s Birthday Party, Porky caught up with her (the ukelele was sadly unavailable).

Porky: How old were you when you received/ bought /stole from a museum your first ukelele and what was the first song you mastered. Tell us about how you got started as a recording/ touring artist.

Uni: A lady never gives U her age, let’s just say I was in my 20s when I got my first ukelele for Christmas. The first song I wrote on my uke was Tell Me That My World Is Pink Not Blue which is the last track on the album My Favorite Letter Is U.

This is like a two-part question, ’cause my music career started long before I picked up a ukulele. Back in the day, I was a back-up singer for Johnny Otis (US rhythm and blues artist). I have also been in swing, country, soul and electro pop bands. But it wasn’t until I started playing the ukulele, when I began developing my song writing. I recorded an album with Johnny Otis, and did a bit of touring.

Now I am recording and touring non-stop. I love it!

Porky: The upcoming tour takes in a lot of wonderfully-enticing shows in all sorts of places. How did some of those gigs come about, for example, the Handcar Regatta?

Uni: I have just played the Handcar Regatta! It was Grand!
I get alot of my gigs by word of mouth. I play many different kinds of shows from indie pop to folk nights, to burlesques and comedy shows. I play childrens’ parties, weddings and birthday parties. So I have alot of options with what I do. It keeps me busy.

Porky: You’re also recording before hitting the road, is this for a full album?

Uni: Yes! I’ve been in the studio for the last year working on my next album. It will be full length. Zack Proteau of Octopus Audio has produced my last few albums (I’m On My Way and As Gold). We are working on making a power-packed-pop album that we are hoping will drop Spring 2010.
I have many special guests, for example, this summer I was in Ireland, and I had the lovely opportunity to play with the Henry Girls from Donegal. They are three sisters that play harp, accordion and fiddle. They so happened to be performing at the L.A. for the Irish Film Festival this month (September), so during this short visit, they cut a few tracks on my next album. It’s magic!
U can check them out at http://www.myspace.com/thehenrygirls

And just so U know New Zealand, if each and every citizen gave me a dollar, I would have more then enough to put this album out.

Porky: Does the uke ever get jealous of all the attention you receive and get grumpy about her work not being given the proper appreciation?

Uni: If Sally Luka gets jealous, she shouldn’t because sometimes she gets more attention then I do. So I think it would be fair to say, I get jealous of her sometimes.

Porky: At your gig in Wellington recently, Porky was impressed that you bled for the audience. Rock und roll. Do you often suffer finger cuts and other injuries?

Uni: Ha ha! I still have blood stains on my ukelele! I often get blisters from playing but that is the first time I have ever bled for Rock. Other injuries are loss of sleep and broken hearts.

Porky: There appears to be a bit of a revival in interest in the ukelele. What’s the appeal of an instrument that perhaps has more of an association with Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? than post-punk.

Uni: I think there is a revival with unique instruments in general, such as banjo, musical saw, accordion and my second favorite instrument, the harp. I feel the ukelele has been getting really popular in the last few years. I think we are living in some heavy times, and the ukelele is the perfect instrument to lighten and liven things up a bit.

Porky: At the Mighty Mighty gig you played Springsteen’s Dancing In the Dark and I heard you do The Smiths’ Please Please Let Me Get What I want on Radio New Zealand earlier in the day. Are these songs made for the ukelele and what would be five songs you would include on The Best Uke Songs in the world .. . ever? Any feedback from the original artists?

Uni: I like throwing a cover or two in my sets. I tend to pick songs the audience can sing-a-long to. I just recently learned Paul Simon’s You Can Call Me Al – that’s a good one!

I pick covers that I like to sing, but that doesn’t mean they are the greatest songs to play. I like the way Jake Shimabukuro (ukelele virtuoso from Hawaii) plays While My Guitar Gently Weeps. That would be on the top five.

I haven’t heard back from any of the original artists I cover. I hope not! Because they will be asking me where their money is.

Porky: Continuing on that theme what’s the most obscure, or unusual track you’ve covered?

Uni: Well ….. it’s not obscure, but I absolutely love singing and playing Roy Orbison’s Crying.

Check Uni and her Ukelele on myspace: www.myspace.com/uniherukelele

Donate a dollar or better still buy one of her excellent albums, of which My Favourite Letter Is U is the finest to these ears.

Lowdown on the New 7

Who? Hikoikoi

Title: Hikoikoi
Label: Border Music

Tell me more: New Zealand has a strong tradition of reggae, roots and dub. Over the years, while reggae in its homeland Jamaica and in places like Britain has largely become dancehall, in Aotearoa it remains fairly true to its origins, often insterspersed with soul or even jazz.

Why the fek should I listen to this? Sometimes, modern reggae falls flat because the artist is trying too hard to be faithful to Bob Marley and other legends, or, conversely, they don’t respect the music enough. But Hikoikoi sound like they have mastered their art. Every track hits a high standard, but I will reserve a special mention for Prophetless, as it tackles how the rich are made and sustain their control: “From the profit of poor nations/ You built your foundations/ Leader puppets you employed them/ Leader puppets will destroy them.”

Tena rawa atu koe Eru for allowing me to hear this and Tiki Taane’s remix album, Flux.

Or should I take it a stick to it and beat the shit out of it? As it’s one of the albums of 2009, probably not.

Trivia: Much of Hikoikoi was recorded in an isolated boatshed in Hikoikoi Reserve (where the band took their name) in Petone, north of Wellington.

Who? Spinal Tap

Title: Back From The Dead
Label: The Label Industry

Tell me more: A pumped up to 11 special edition from rock’s most legendary legends. In 1984, the film This Is Spinal Tap was released and it was kinda  popular. This is the soundtrack, updated with six extra songs and reworkings of the others as well as an hour-long DVD featuring the ageing trio explaining the “meanings” of each track and … AND … a pop-up diorama package that unveils three 12-inch action figures along with a pop-up Stonehenge (almost actual size).

Why the fek should I listen to this? From Cups and Cakes to the misogynistic cover of Smell the Glove, the film and its accompanying soundtrack cover the Tap’s gloriously inept career and comeback tour in the USA. Morrissey or Dylan could never have written lyrics such as “My baby fits me like a flesh tuxedo/ I’d like to sink her with my pink torpedo”.

Or should I take it a stick to it and beat the shit out of it? Jesus, if you don’t like the album, or the DVD, bin them .. cos it got a pop-up diorama action package! Oh bugger, Nigel Tufnel’s got caught in my shirt sleeve.

Trivia: Early video versions of the film had a special disclaimer inserted at the end stating that the band did not actually exist, for all the very stupid people in the world.

Who? Aleks and the Ramps

Title: Midnight Believer
Label: Stomp
Tell me more: Melbourne five-piece with one album, Pisces vs Aquarius (2007), behind them.

Why the fek should I listen to this? You’re probably familiar with Australia’s greatest musical talents – Rolf Harris, Slim Dusty, Peter Andre, the chap who plays Paul Robinson on Neighbours … but actually there’s some other guys and gals who make records. Among them The Ramps, who have a dark outlook on life (“Reading the result of your autopsy, I could swear that you were watching me”) matched by an equally dark sense of humour. And that comes out in the music on Midnight Believer, a mixture of at times uplifting indie rock, a la Walking the Garden, that has some gloriously disjointed riffs, and more sober moments, notably the first half of Circa 1992 Ideas before it suddenly becomes something of a pop song. Titles such as Destroy the Universe With Jazz Hands suggest they are either far from serious or completely bonkers.

Or should I take it a stick to it and beat the shit out of it? Midnight Believer lacks enough ideas to sustain it for a whole album, and falls flat at certain points. Maybe a mini album may have been more appropriate.

Trivia: Their website lists individual band members functions including: snoring duck, Swiss cheese and extreme wheeze.

Who? Ido Tavori

Title: Rhythm Is A Beggar
Label: Love Poem records

Tell me more: Tavori, a British-based Israeli, is the founder of Love Poem records, an outlet for experimental, underground music.

Why the fek should I listen to this? Rhythm Is A Beggar expounds upon Tavori’s love of urban underground beats, stirring in lashings of hip-hop, downbeat and electronica. An intriguing 26-minute trawl through a genre that continues to mutate and develop.

Or should I take it a stick to it and beat the shit out of it? There are breaks in this love-in for some hip-hop lyricism which does not quite work on this kind of largely mellow and experimental album.

Trivia: Although the cover names the artist as Ido Tavori, the spine attributes the music to Ido Tavori & friends.

Who? The Undertones

Title: An Anthology
Label: Salvo

Tell me more: Two-disk trawl through the wonderful career of a wonderful Northern Ireland new wave band of the late 70s/ early 80s era. First disk is of singles, album tracks and b-sides. Second disk live tracks, demos, rehearsals and rough mixes.

Why the fek should I listen to this? Normally I try to avoid best ofs, but given that 27 of the 56 tracks here are from the vaults and there’s plenty of obscurities among the remainder, this is clearly an effort made with love and devotion. Also includes a neat booklet with a history lesson and details of where and when each track was recorded (though sadly not where released). Played to death by DJ John Peel, Teenage Kicks has become the girls and chocolate-fuelled adrenalin anthem for the ‘Tones but they possessed loftier ambitions and subsequently made scores of short bursts of fantastic pop classic. My Perfect Cousin may have been the first top 10 hit to mention table-football game Subbuteo.

Or should I take it a stick to it and beat the shit out of it? I was wary of the outtakes and whatever else they could find bonus disk, but I find the rough-and-ready quality of these straight-from-cassette recordings quite endearing. But I have to take issue with the chronology. Putting debut single Teenage Kicks among later, more seductive, tracks is bemusing. By the early 80s the Undertones had become more soulful, and there’s an ill-fitting feeling to those tracks following or preceeding rip-snorting punk-inspired singles.

Trivia: A reformed Undertones (minus Feargal Sharkey) sometimes play support act to a little-known outfit called Celtic FC at Parkhead these days.

Attic Dweller

Who? The Beautiful South

Title: Superbi
Label: Sony BMG

Tell me more: There are far more famous albums by the Beautiful South than this, but I chose this deliberately as it’s one of the latter works from the Hull band, released in 2006, when they’d lost their lustre and ability to sell albums by the vanload. Neither Gaze (2003) nor the collections of cover versions, Golddiggas Headnodders & Pholk Songs (2004) would be described as anything more than average.

Why the fek should I listen to this? Superbi has all the usual elements to a Beautiful South album – tales of lost and lost and the rain in Manchester. The opening track and The Cat Loves The Mouse sound like old South, catchy and captivating.

Or should I take it a stick to it and beat the shit out of it? The South were a pivotal band of the early 1990s but all albums since have struggled to match the brilliance of 0898 or Choke. The same can be said of the country-tinged Superbi but there are several highlights and it does grow after a few listens. Eight months after its release the band split up.

Trivia: In a recruitment drive reminiscent of the Human League signing up two schoolgirls after Phil Oakey saw them dance at a Sheffield disco, Jacqui Abbott was stacking shelves in a supermarket before being enlisted by Paul Heaton after he heard her sing at an after-show party.

The sound of the beautiful game

Football and music, three words that evoke memories of players singing out of tune and Chas and Dave being dug up ahead of a Spurs appearance in the FA Cup final. Or England Back Home, the dismal Baddiel and Skinner … the list of cultural criminality goes on and on.

Music has often used football for its ill-gotten gains and, on the other side of the coin, the sport has gotten a piggy back from the industry to promote a forthcoming tournament or boost the bank balance of a striker.

Highlights of this meeting of unlikely bedfellows have been few but New Order’s World in Motion is probably the best example of this form of the football song.

However, Porky has been snorting about and discovered the beautiful game and the beautiful sound have often mingled coherently in a lovestruck relationship.

The basis for this discovery was an album by The Barmy Army called the English Disease. Released in 1989, it sounds a little dated now, especially with tracks such as England 2, Yugoslavia 0 and a protest song against a plan in the UK to issue all football hooligans, as the then Conservative Government viewed all fans, with ID cards.

The Barmy Army cut and paste interviews and match commentary, using them ad nauseum; expressing their love of West Ham Utd with snippets of the Hammers theme tune I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles, and songs dedicated to Alan Devonshire and Billy Bonds. On a hit-and-miss (the goalpost) album, the strongest moment is Sharp As a Needle, featuring the Anfield Kop in fine voice, a track beloved by the legendary, yet extraordinarily tedious, DJ, John Peel.

Barmy Army’s experimental dub-football crossover came at a time when indie bands in Britain found inspiration from a game which was, at the time, maligned by hooliganism and stadium disasters.
In 1987, burgeoning Yorkshire indie-wonders, The Wedding Present, looked at the sport’s glorious past, to name their debut album George Best, adorned with a picture of the Northern Irish maestro at his peak.

I, Ludicrous, graduates of The Fall school of witticism, spewed an imponderable number of football-related songs: Quite Extraordinary (piss-take of commentator/ buffoon David Coleman), and We Stand Around (about hardcore fans braving all the elements and bad players).

During this period of rampant hooliganism, one man stood up to fight the good fight, and lead the charge to rid England of the menace of the “English Disease” once and for all. Unfortunately, that man was Colin Moynihan, a short-arsed little bastard who, somehow, was appointed Minister of Sport.

The Conservative regime seemed to regard the role as no greater than the leader of a community council, and so Moynihan became the champion of British sports. I, Ludicrous penned Moynihan Brings Out The Hooligan In Me, on account of his ignorance of the game and the small matter of this bastion of the sporting spirit, running onto (invading?) the pitch when the Great Britain hockey team won gold at the 1988 Olympic Games in Seoul. Just like a good hooligan would.

Forget that English teams were banned from European club competition on account of their naughty fans, this was when indie music fell in love with football, precisely because of its bad-boy image.

It was a time when The Housemartins named an album, Hull 4, London 0; Tackhead wrote about The Game, sampling commentator Brian Moore; and the Proclaimers reminded the world of Scotland’s love of the game with songs about Hibernian FC (Sunshine on Leith and The Joyful Kilmarnock Blues). Hell, I’ve even got a flexi disk, by an obscure Northern Irish band with a song called The Cross, that came with a Coleraine FC fanzine.

More recently, Britain’s favourite lefty, Billy Bragg, a renowned footy fan, even though he’s from Essex, issued songs such as God’s Footballer and The Few, the latter describing hooligan firms like the Inter City Crew, who were fully aware that any rampage would never be ignored: “These little John Bullshits know that the press will glorify their feats”.

Bragg famously sang, on a song called Sexuality of all things, that he had, ” an uncle who once played, for Red Star Belgrade.”

Ah, yes, Eastern European soccer, the true cult of the sport. And is that a Half Man Half Biscuit song I hear, perhaps I Was A Teenage Armchair Honved Fan, in recognition of Hungarian football, and subbuteo (a game also referenced by The Undertones in My Perfect Cousin: “He flicked to kick, and I didn’t know”), or demanding a Dukla Prague away kit for Christmas.

Recently, football, despite it’s invasive worldwide profile, hasn’t crossed over into music to the same extent, outwith the flurry of piss-poor singles issued in time for the start of a major tournament, using Sham 69 hits and odious comedians.

My own favourite football-related song, even if the core subject is writer Christy Brown, is the Pogues’ Down All the Days, for the line, “And I’ve never been asked, and I’ve never replied, have I supported the Glasgow Rangers,” which can mean many things to many people.

Or there’s the Suppery Furry Animals’ The Man Don’t Give A Fuck, an expletive-ridden tale of eccentric Cardiff City player Robin Friday; the Sultans of Pings’ Give Him a Ball and a Yard of Grass (“If God meant the game to be played up there, He would’ve put goalposts in the air.”; an unofficial Scottish 1998 World Cup team-up featuring the divine talents of Primal Scream and Irvine Welsh; tracks entitled Stan Bowles (The Others) and Tony Adams (Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros), although the references to those legends are fairly humdrum while Morrissey put Terry Venables on the cover of 1995’s Dagenham Dave.

And just to prove referencing football in song is not a new fad, Gracie Fields recorded Pass, Shoot, Goal in 1931. Fields was apparently a big Rochdale FC fan and even helped them out financially in rough times. Way before Elton John passed upon Watford FC.

I haven’t covered everything, how can I, and there are club/band team-ups that are actually quite good, notably Shane MacGowan and Simple Minds appearing on a charity EP, in tribute to Celtic legend Jimmy Johnstone, plenty of songs by Serious Drinking, or more from I, Ludicrous and Half Man Half Biscuit, and an obscure indie trio from Norwich who issued one single in 1991 and who’s name I haven’t made up yet, blah blah blah, but you get the bloody point.

There’s an old Scottish football song, the original dating from 1885, of which I will reprint the opening verse and chorus:

“You all know my big brither Jock

Miss-hit: Hoddle and Waddle

His right name’s Johnny Shaw.

Last week he jined a fitba’ club
For he’s mad about fitba’.
He’s got two black eyes already,
An’ teeth oot by the root,
Since Jock’s face came in contact
Wi another fella’s boot.

‘Cause he’s fitba’ crazy,
He’s fitba’ mad.
The fitba it has ta’en away
The wee bit sense he had.
And it wid take a dozen servants
His claes tae wash and scrub,
Since Jock became a member o’
That terrible fitba’ club”

Now, please add your own memories …