Monday, 19 December 2011
PJ Harvey - Let England Milkshake
The formerly principled PJ threw integrity out the window and took a leaf out of Johnny Rotten’s book with this McDonald’s sponsored homage to the dairy-based beverage. Nevertheless, the poetic tributes to the countless bovine who were slaughtered during the late-‘90s BSE crisis will remain poignant for generations to come.
Metallica and Lulu - Lou Reed
Redneck metalheads were appalled when they heard that their favourite band of all time would be collaborating with a short, Scottish, ex-Eurovision singer on a concept album about some bloke who used to be the Velvet Underground. Hearing Lulu wailing on about transvestites, heroin, and Andy Warhol over the top of recycled riffs was jarring at first, but those calling it the worst record of all time are reactionary idiots who stand in the way of progress and deserve to listen to nothing but the best of Phil Collins for the rest of their innovation-hating lives.
Bjork - Biophilia
What do you do if you’re one of the world’s biggest acts and a highly respected cultural figure but you’ve run out of fresh musical ideas? Give your album away for free on the internet? Smashing Pumpkins and Nine Inch Nails got there first. Let listeners decide how much they’d like to pay for such an underwhelming record? Radiohead already pulled that one. Let fans cherry pick their own preferred tracklisting? You’re not as desperate as the Kaiser Chiefs just yet. Apps! That’s it! Apps. Genius. Now nobody will notice that all your songs sound just like other songs you released a few years back. And don’t worry that your exploitation of apps might come across as a desperate attempt by a middle aged loser clambering to stay in touch with rapidly evolving technology in order to reach a broader and younger audience; you’ll never manage to look as pathetic as that twat Niall Ferguson.
PJ Harvey - Let England Bake
The formerly principled PJ threw integrity out the window and took a leaf out of Johnny Rotten’s book with this collaboration with Mary “traditional puddings” Berry and Paul “Simon Cowell of pasties” Hollywood, a tie-in with the hit BBC television series The Great British Bake Off. The album was critically lauded, although there were some complaints that the trilogy of tracks about the cream from a chocolate roulade were merely filler.
Kasabian - Velocicraptor
Apparently Kasabian chose the title because the dinosaur in question “used to hunt in packs of four”. Presumably it also swaggered about like a constipated chimpanzee and had a mating call that sounded like an even shitter Beady Eye.
Josh T. Pearson - Last of the Country Gentlemen
When Josh T. Pearson sings indulgent ten-minute long ballads about a failed relationship backed only by an acoustic guitar he’s hailed as a genius and featured in various reputable end of year polls. When I try it the Samaritans hang up on me. Where’s the justice? Maybe it’s more convincing coming from a man who looks like Warren Ellis’ dead twin.
Chris Brown - F.A.M.E.
Brown silenced all his ‘haters’ on this comeback record by coupling his emotional vocals with beats so phat it was like being held in a headlock, repeatedly punched in the face and told you were going to die while trapped in a Lamborghini. Sean Connery is said to be a big fan.
Jessie J - Who You Are
Critics have long condemned the predominance of French artists at the Music of Belgian Origin Awards. So imagine their disgust when wig-headed amputee-empathiser Jessie J was nominated in five categories, despite being neither French, nor Belgian, nor remotely talented. Still, you can’t argue with the four MOBOs she received, presented to her by such cultural heavyweights as the Managing Director of Stella Artois, some distant cousin of Hergé, and David Suchet wearing a moustache.
One of the highlights of the album was the radical, anti-capitalist ‘Price Tag’ which eloquently attacked materialism (or “Cha-Ching Cha-Ching” and “Ba-Bling Ba-Bling”) while persuasively affirming that “It’s not about the money” and “Money can’t buy us happiness”. Reaching number one in the UK singles chart, we are still awaiting the proceeds from this single to be donated to charity.
PJ Harvey - Let England Flake
The formerly principled PJ threw integrity out the window and took a leaf out of Johnny Rotten’s book with this concept album sponsored by Cadbury’s Flake. In a homage to the famous ‘Flake Girl’ advertising campaigns, a promotional video for the album featured PJ suggestively placing the crumbly chocolate phallus between her lips, an act she still managed to make erotic even with a dead crow on her head.
Wild Beasts - Smother
Wild Beasts are four-piece British vocal troupe who first came to prominence when they finished second in ITV’s talent show The X Factor in 2004. The group wowed the audience week after week with their highly original takes on seemingly untouchable pop classics such as ‘Everybody Hurts’, ‘Creep’ and ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’. Despite being runners up, the act were undoubtedly one of the artistic success stories of the series and went on to outsell series winner Steven Brookstein.
Their debut album, G4, was released on 28 February, 2005. It reached Number One on Mother’s Day weekend and sold over 245,000 copies in the first week. Their debut single, a cover of Queen's ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, was released on 14 March, 2005, and entered the charts at #9. Their second album, G4 & Friends was released on 28 November, 2005, and entered the charts at #6. Their third record, Smother, was released on 9 May, 2011 on Domino Records.
Thursday, 17 November 2011
Millions’ physical state is said to be under immense strain and discomfort. At first the band struggled to feed him by attempting to hurl sandwiches into his jiggling, gaping mouth at a safe distance from his powerful, floundering arms. Similarly unable to pause his drumming in order to make required trips to the bathroom, Millions soon brought a whole new meaning to the term ‘drum stool’. Doctors have since fitted him with a drip, catheter and colostomy bag, although they are keen to emphasise that this is only a short term method of keeping him stable and that he could still collapse, explode or spontaneously combust at any given moment.
Millions’ condition is recognised in the medical world as Corsano Christitis. Although it is familiar to professional musicians who fear it greatly, it is much rarer than well-known rhythm-related ailments such as Dance Fever, Beatle Mania, and Biggie Smallpox.
In the 1990s, original Pavement drummer Gary Young managed to immunise himself against the condition by spending more time doing acrobatic handstands than actually drumming. While he successfully avoided contracting the illness, his flamboyant antics unfortunately got him fired from the band.
Dave Grohl has such a concern about potential outbreaks of Corsano Christitis that when recording with the Foo Fighters if he even begins to suspect that his drummer might be afflicted, he removes his sticksman from behind the kit by means of a violent kicking motion and takes over the drum part without even missing a beat. Then he overdubs all the rhythm tracks himself just to be on the safe side. Such a response to the condition is not recommended by health experts. Similar to the sudden awaking of sleepwalkers, this extreme approach can induce shock, a heart attack, brain damage, or even plunge the patient into a useless, vegetative state known as ‘full-blown Lars’.
Subtler and safer approaches are highly recommended. In 1975 Genesis managed to coax a sickly Phil Collins from behind his kit simply by getting rid of Peter Gabriel. Ginger Baker can be broken out of a perpetual drum trance by waving a family packet of kettle chips in his general direction, or a massive bag of quality heroin.
The technique with the greatest proven track record of releasing drummers from perpetual beat hypnosis is that trialled by Robert Plant on the patient John Bonham. Trapped in the midst of a fourteen hour version of the Zeppelin track ‘Moby Dick’, Plant accused Bonham of missing a fill. This caused Bonham to stand up, throw his snare at Plant’s head and storm out of the room. Though he called Plant a ‘helium-voiced talentless git’ at the time, he expressed his gratitude at a later date.
While Millions’ medical team have tried a variety of methods to free him from paradiddle hell, none have yet been fruitful.
Unfortunately, Oklahoma life-lovers the Flaming Lips have exacerbated the problem by invading Oneida’s rehearsal space and selfishly attempting to exploit Millions’ dismal condition to their own advantage. They have surrounded his kit with their own equipment and intend to jam with Millions without his consent in order to create a song that will last longer than eternity. The music will be recorded live onto tape by the band’s producer Dave Fridmann and sections of it intermittently released via a series of $10,000 dollar gold encrusted platypus skeletons containing luminous USB sticks which can only be listened to on a bouncy castle.
Even crueller, the Lips have refused to donate any of their profits to Millions’ healthcare, choosing instead to spend the money on obscene amounts of glittery things, a variety of novelty balloon animals and an intergalactic, time-travelling space pod. As he is unfortunate enough to live in a country in which much of the population equates national healthcare with tyrannical Maoism, the Oneida percussionist has accumulated exorbitant medical bills over the course of his ten-day drumathalon. Anyone wishing to make a donation to Kid or his family during this difficult time can do so at www.millionsformillions.net.
Thursday, 20 October 2011
Kim and Thurston first took Mascis under their wing back in 1986 when Sonic Youth invited Dinosaur Jr to support them for a two-week college tour and have looked after the long-haired troubadour ever since, but is it now uncertain whether custody will be given to Kim, Thurston, or some other third party. Mascis requires much care and attention; he suffers from catatonic lethargy, underdeveloped social skills, and is susceptible to panic attacks when deprived of the colour purple.
There has been some concern over the affect the split is having on J’s behaviour. Kim and Thurston broke the news to J together and in a sensitive manner, making it clear that it wasn’t his fault and that they both still loved him very much and they would both still see him all the time. He has, however, become very withdrawn and solitary, retreating to his bedroom to play excessively loud guitar and communicating only through incoherent mumbles. Photogenic television psychologist Dr. Linda Papadapasnuffleupagus confirmed this was normal behaviour for individuals who are having to cope with a separation, although it is less typical in 45 year olds.
Lou Barlow has enthusiastically volunteered to take custody, always willing to elevate his and J’s father/son homoerotic incestuous sibling passive-aggressive dysfunctional relationship to new heights of weird. When approached with the idea, J’s noncommittal shrug was interpreted by Lou as a categorical “No” causing him to immediately descend to his basement to record yet another soul-searching lo-fi tune documenting his feelings of inadequacy and rejection.
Courtney Love has also kindly offered to adopt Mascis. Her calls have not been returned.
Wednesday, 7 September 2011
Critics of the Mercury Music Prize’s supposed meaninglessness have been silenced after PJ Harvey’s win for Let England Shake has put a stop to all warfare. The album did not get the reception it deserved upon its initial release in February but now, thanks to the exposure of the Mercury win, the world has finally paid heed to its powerful peace-promoting message and laid down its arms.
All current military conflicts have ceased, including those in Iraq and Afghanistan, after warmongers everywhere saw the error of their ways thanks to the West Country songsmith with a crow on her head.
On announcing the immediate withdrawal of troops, Liam Fox, the British Secretary of State for Defence, said: “I guess none of us really realised that war is bad before. But it is. War is bad. It is really, really bad. The world knows this now. And we have PJ Harvey to thank for that.”
Elsewhere, the Israeli-Palestine conflict has been put to bed and a ceasefire agreed after leaders on both sides tuned in to BBC2’s coverage of the prize presented by Lauren Laverne before immediately seeking out Let England Shake on Spotify. A joint Israeli-Palestine statement read: “We are glad to announce the end of the Israeli-Palestine conflict and are now entering a process for establishing a permanent peace along the West Bank and Gaza strip. It never occurred to us that war is bad before. But it is. It is really, really bad. Even when we listened to Let England Shake’s first track about Gallipoli we were somewhat unconvinced. The second track about Gallipoli, well that started to win us over a little, but we remained cynical. By the time the third track about Gallipoli kicked in, however, boy were we converted! War is bad! War is actually bad! It isn’t good, it’s bad. Thanks PJ!”
Meanwhile, Brummie brit-poppers Ocean Colour Scene, who (criminally) have never been nominated for the Mercury, are said to be slightly annoyed with the furore over Harvey’s record. When they radically announced to the world that war was bad in their 1999 single ‘Profit in Peace’, for some reason nobody gave a shit. But in honour of their unacknowledged efforts, in memory of the fallen, and in celebration of a new era of world peace established by the power of music and the impact of the Barclaycard Mercury Prize, let us reflect for a moment upon those deeply moving lyrics:
Hey, we don’t wanna fight no more
Hey, hey hey, we don’t wanna fight no more
But there’s no profit in peace
So we gotta fight some more
La la la
War is bad
La la la
War is bad
War is bad
War is ba-la-la-la-baaaad…
Friday, 2 September 2011
It is unclear whether Jack White has embarked on this strange project in reaction to the mental strain caused by his former enormous successes or as some kind of crazy bet, perhaps trying to outdo Lou Reed who has recently hooked up with washed-up metal buffoons Metallica.
It has been estimated that this move has elevated White to a level of unpopularity approaching that of Fred Durst, Jim Davidson, Fearne Cotton, Ben Elton, Sex and the City 2, Sally Bercow, and M. Night Shyamalan.
White still has someway to go, however, before attracting the dizzy heights of hatred reserved for the likes of Glitter, Gaddafi, Skeletor, Heather Mills, the cast of Jersey Shore, the woman who put that cat in the bin, Nick Griffin, the cast of Geordie Shore, or the opera singing jingle dickhead from Go Compare.
Friday, 26 August 2011
Out of respect for Bucks Fizz’s legacy and to add a touch of authenticity, the ex-‘Babes have agreed to hire founding ‘Fizz member Robert Alan Gubby (aka Bobby G) to play percussion on the tour.
Other original Bucks Fizz singers Mike Nolan and Cheryl Baker are said to be horrified by the outcome, and it is rumoured that on hearing the news Baker was so upset that she immediately binge-ate four whole lemon drizzle cakes and an entire tube of Sour Cream & Onion Pringles, thus setting her personal Jenny Craig Weight Loss Program back by approximately three weeks.
The current line-up of the Sugababes are said to be smiling blankly.
Wednesday, 10 August 2011
THE ONLY PLAUSIBLE SOLUTION TO THIS DISPICABLE RIOTING IS THE IMMEDIATE REFORMATION OF THE SEAHORSES
With everybody having their own skewed take on the causes and solutions of the current wave of riots that are sweeping British cities, Spinal Bap would like to propose a more rational suggestion:
The years 1996 to 1999 witnessed no major riots in Britain. It is clearly no coincidence that this was also the era in which John Squire’s post-Stone Roses rock group The Seahorses were an active force. It is imperative for the stability of the nation that our Prime Minister David Cameron make an immediate statement demanding the reformation of The Seahorses and that he enlist their services in reinstating peace and stability. In the last twelve years society has completely broken down, with many parents, children, schools, communities, and politicians demonstrating scant regard for the importance of The Seahorses.
Following the inevitable, and much demanded, reformation of the Chris Helme-fronted indie pop band, those who dare to continue to behave with an irresponsible disregard for law, order, and The Seahorses’ one hugely influential album Do It Yourself should be treated with extreme prejudice and little sympathy; tear gas, rubber bullets and water cannons should be employed against anybody who cannot remember the words to ‘Blinded by the Sun’.
Failing these extreme measures, what are Symposium up to?
Sunday, 24 July 2011
Call me Gener. Some time ago, having little or no money in my purse on account of illegal downloading, and nothing particular to interest me in Ween, I thought I would set sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.
I learnt that there were three ships up for voyages - the Pequod, the Poop Ship Destroyer, and the Weezer Cruise. Hopping on board the Weezer, and looking around her for a moment, with its outdoor lido deck, inside theatre, hot tubs, casino, waterslide, and spa services, I decided this was the ship for me.
For several days after leaving Miami, nothing above hatches was seen of Captain Rivers. It was speculated that Rivers was in fact studying at Harvard, or that he was stranded on an island somewhere with the fat guy from Lost. The roadies regularly relieved each other at the watches, and for aught that could be seen to the contrary, they seemed to be the only commanders of the ship; only they sometimes issued from the dressing room with orders so sudden and peremptory, that after all it was plain they but commanded vicariously. Yes, their supreme lord and dictator was there, though hitherto unseen by any eyes not permitted to penetrate the now sacred retreat of the backstage area.
It was one of those grey and gloomy mornings, when with a fair wind the ship was rushing through the water with a vindictive sort of leaping and melancholy rapidity, like the sound of ‘Why Bother?’ from the Pinkerton album, that as I mounted the deck at the call of the afternoon soundcheck, so soon as I levelled my glance towards the lighting desk, foreboding shivers ran over me. Reality outran apprehension; Captain Rivers stood upon his quarterdeck.
He cut a grim figure. Hunched, pasty-faced with cheap haircut, and wearing a short-sleeved shirt and pair of think-rimmed spectacles. So powerfully did the whole grim aspect of Rivers affect me, that for the first few moments I hardly noted that his left leg was one and three quarter inches shorter than his right leg, and that this was compensated with a barbaric white heel. It had previously come to me that this white heel had been fashioned from the polished ivory substitute of a vegan’s piano.
He advanced towards the main-mast with a hammer uplifted in one hand, and a gold disc in the other, and with a raised voice, exclaimed: “Whosoever of ye raises me a white-headed vegan with a wrinkled brow and a meek jaw; whosoever of ye raises me that white-headed vegan, with his sample-heavy disco music and wallet bulging with advertisement royalties, whosoever of ye raises me that same white vegan, he shall have this gold disc, my boys!”
“Huzza! Huzza!” cried The Antlers, Yuck, and even Boom Bip, as they hailed the act of nailing the gold disc to the mast.
All this while, the members of Sebadoh had looked on with even more intense interest and surprise than the rest, and at the mention of the wrinkled brow and sample-heavy disco music they had started as if each was separately touched by some specific recollection.
“Captain Rivers,” said Lou Barlow, “that white vegan must be the same that some call Moby.”
“Moby?” shouted Rivers. “Do you know the white vegan then, Lou?”
“Was it not Moby that you encountered at the Reading Festival ‘96 where he trod on thy spectacles and swallowed thy talent?”
“Aye, Barlow; aye my hearties all round; it was Moby that brought me to this dead music that I now churn out. Aye, aye,” he shouted with a terrific, loud, animal sob; “Aye, aye! And I’ll chase him round Glastonbury, and round Lollapalooza, and round Primavera, and round Leeds Festival’s hellish flames before I give him up. And this is what you have shipped for, men! To chase that white vegan over all sides of earth, till he spouts anaemic blood to an inoffensive, ambient synth soundtrack. What say ye, men? I think ye do look brave.”
“Aye, aye!” shouted the roadies and the security crew, running closer to the excited old dweeb, “A sharp eye for the white vegan; a sharp lance for Moby!”
“God bless ye,” he seemed to half sob and half shout, recalling his vocal take on track 6 of Maladroit. “God bless ye, men, But what’s this long face about, Mr. Barlow; wilt thou not chase the white vegan? Art not game for Moby?”
“I am game for his meek jaw, and for the jaws of Death too, Captain Rivers, if it fairly comes in the way of the business we follow; but I came here to promote the Bakesale reissue and peddle some t-shirts, not to hunt a popular ‘90s dance artist to appease the vengeance of a popular ‘90s nerd-rocker. How much will thy vengeance yield thee even if thou gettest it, Captain Rivers? Moby already sold himself to every prospective buyer, around the time of Play.”
“Marketers? Hoot! My vengeance will fetch a great premium, here!”
“He smites his chest,” whispered Jason Loewenstein, “what’s that for? Methinks it rings most vast, but hollow.”
“Vengeance on a dumb brute!” cried Lou Barlow, “that simply swallowed thy talent from blindest instinct! Madness! To be enraged with a dumb thing, Captain Rivers, seems blasphemous.”
“Talk not to me of blasphemy, man, Moby may have admitted to a fascination with the Gospels and a belief in the teachings of Christ, but I would strike the sun if it insulted me. Drink, ye Weezer cruisers! Drink and swear, ye men. Death to Moby! God hunt us all if we do not hunt Moby to his death!” Cans of beer were lifted and quaffed to cries and maledictions against the white vegan, while Paul Sprangers from Free Energy started a sarcastic rendition of ‘We Are All Made of Stars’. Barlow paled, and turned, and shivered, and retreated to his cabin to capture his despondent feelings on a 4-track tape. Another round of beers was dispersed; and Rivers retired within his dressing room.
“Huh?” asked J. Mascis.
“Dunno,” replied the guy out of Wavves, who in searching after his missing drummers, only found another bong.
Tuesday, 28 June 2011
It was initially presumed that Harris had insisted on mentioning the weekend in the majority of his tracks simply as the easiest way to guarantee their regular rotation on radio and in the clubs in order to secure regular royalty payments, but it now appears to have been a means for the keyboard wielding pest to vent a much darker obsession. Over time, Harris’ unquenchable fixation with the weekend swelled to the degree that he became incapable of penning lyrics on any other subject. His latest single, ‘Bounce’ (feat. Kelis), again mentions the weekend, and follows his 2009 record Ready for the Weekend, a concept album largely about the weekend.
Harris is thought to have become even more enamoured when he realised that his love would never be reciprocated, because he earns a living as a musician and thus never has a weekend, or a working week, but rather one long, continuous holiday. Others in such a position may have taken this as a blessing, but it seems to have driven Harris quite, quite mad. The insane preoccupation eventually drove Harris to violently force himself upon the object of his desires. Luckily, however, the weekend managed to distract Harris with an oversized pair of retro sunglasses and a glowstick, and managed to escape with only a few bruises.
On assigning the restraining order, which prevents Harris from coming within a thirty mile radius of the weekend, the judge encouragingly suggested that that perhaps Harris’ hopes of a 9 to 5, Monday to Friday routine were not as far off as he might think.
Monday, 20 June 2011
Dave Mustaine has revealed that the new Megadeth record will be a collaboration with experimental musician and performance artist Laurie Anderson.
The wife of Lou Reed had originally planned to record a full album of her old numbers with the ex-Metallica guitarist, before Mustaine admitted that he’d never actually heard any. This prompted Anderson to confess that she wasn’t overly familiar with the Megadeth back catalogue either. The pair then settled on a ten-track conceptual album of original compositions loosely based upon the life of TV’s Paul Ross.
The album has been given the working title In the Shadow and will feature Megadeth’s signature thrash metal sound complemented by Anderson’s pretentiously poetic spoken-word meditations on events such as the time Paul Ross went up against his brother Jonathan in a Friday evening ratings war (Jonathan presented Friday Night with Jonathan Ross on BBC1, whilst Paul featured on rival station FlogTV advertising a DVD boxset of all the Alien films even though it’s only the first one that’s any good) and the time Jonathan bought his mother a yacht for her birthday and Paul only got her a slightly scuffed boxset of all the Alien films.
Mustaine and Anderson have also attracted a plethora of other collaborators for the record who they felt had the suitable talent and expertise to contribute to In the Shadow. They include Art Garfunkel, Krist Novoselic, Dave Davies, Spiral Stairs, Robert Webb, Richard Herring, James Belushi…
Wednesday, 15 June 2011
The singer, aged 24, who lives in Cullompton, Devon, was caught creating a ritualistic pyre, which included a vinyl copy of Cissy Houston’s 1978 album Think it Over, the black box from the Beechcraft 18 Airplane which flew Otis Redding to his death, a vial containing the frozen semen of Eddie Floyd, along with a confused Leon Huff who had been imprisoned within a large plastic bin liner. The family of the elderly record producer Mr. Huff issued a statement claiming that he was last seen three days ago in Los Angeles having a drink with Miss Stone and that he may have been drugged and abducted by the Grammy Award Winning artist.
Police spokesmen have refused to comment on whether Stone planned to sacrifice these artifacts as part of a pagan ritual with the purpose of instigating the apocalyptic destruction of the genre’s credibility. One officer did comment, however, that such an act would be highly out of character for the normally banal Miss Stone.
The police stated that "we are unable to say anymore at this time but we would like to thank the local resident who had a copy of Stevie Wonder’s pre-1979 back catalogue and drew attention to Miss Stone’s longstanding attempts to kidnap, molest and decimate what is clearly a rich body of work."
Dorothy Blakesop, an elderly lady, whose bungalow is near to Stone’s house commented, "it is obviously a very frightening situation if there are people going around pretending to be Aretha Franklin with little understanding of the social and political circumstances from which such music emerged."
Another Devon resident, Agatha Pilchard, was more supportive, saying "whilst I always liked soul music, it has been nice to see the exact same style come out of the mouth of a nice Devon girl," before adding, "you know what I mean, a white."
Thursday, 9 June 2011
It has recently come to light that since U2’s formation Larry has technically been under contract as an unpaid intern, with limited access to tour catering and a minimal rider allowance. When not on tour, Larry earns a living by giving drum lessons to schoolchildren in Dublin and gigging with U2 tribute band “U2(ii)”.
Campaigners have highlighted U2’s hypocrisy in pretending to care for the developing world, playing numerous high profile benefit gigs such as Live Aid, Live 8 and various other Boomtown Rats shows, and imploring their fans to donate their hard earned cash to good causes, whilst at the same time being so greedy themselves as to not even pay their own drummer. The protesters have promised to stop short of actually disrupting U2’s set, but are determined to make their demonstration highly visible by waving giant banners displaying slogans such as “Bono Pay Larry” and “Make Larry’s Poverty History” and by wearing giant cardboard cut-out masks of a sad-faced Larry with the words “Poor Larry” written across the forehead.
Chastity Goodall, an evangelical Christian, lifelong U2 enthusiast, and member of the Delirious? fan club, said “I love U2 almost as much as I love Our Lord Jesus Christ, but it is appalling that they continue to neglect Larry in this way. Larry is an integral part of the U2 dynamic and he is every bit as important as Bono, The Edge or the other one.” Then she started banging on about the eye of a needle or something.
Sunday, 5 June 2011
Chris Martin suffers from a similar affliction and, as a solution, insists that during rehearsal all the other members of Coldplay must wear brightly coloured name-hats. Martin himself wears an elaborate golden crown which his wife Gwyneth Paltrow claims to have crafted herself but, like her books, didn’t.
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
TYLER, THE CREATOR CREATES MEDIA FRENZY BY SHOUTING THE WORDS "POO POO" AND "WEE WEE" AT THE TOP OF HIS VOICE
Tyler, the Creator, whose new record Goblin features regular use of severe expletives such as “poo”, “wee”, “willy”, “guff”, “divvy”, “toilet”, “winky” and even “mega spazz”, is now the subject of massive media attention due to his shocking taboo-busting lyricisms.
Gay rights groups have objected to his use of the terms “gay lord”, “humongous bummer” and “great big queer face” whilst feminist campaigners have denounced his continued insistence that girls whisper and they smell and they don’t like football.
As well as creating much publicity, the shocking language has produced much debate over Tyler’s outlook and intentions in the media and blogosphere. A range of opinions have been expressed on the Guardian newspaper’s message boards, where readers have discussed whether Tyler is a product of the harsh urban reality from which he doesn’t hail, whether his enthusiasm for unsavoury language is an elaborate exercise in post-modern post-PC irony, whether shouting “poo poo” and “wee wee” at the top of his voice is excusable on account of it being even funnier than that time Robert forgot his gym kit and had to do P.E. in his vest and pants, or whether rap music isn’t really of interest to them and they’d much rather listen to that new Kate Bush one.
When asked for a comment on his personal reputation, Tyler said he wasn’t allowed to talk to strangers, promptly kicked a girl he likes on the leg and ran off behind the bike sheds to eat a stolen Curly Wurly.
Thursday, 5 May 2011
They’ve only been in the world a matter of days, but Mariah Carey’s newborn twins have already expressed their distaste for their ma’s incessant multi-octave warbling.
The good twin, Monroe Angel Fluffybunny Carey, revealed her aversion to her mom’s caterwauling by bursting into tears when Carey self-indulgently played one of her own CDs to the infants almost immediately after labour. Much to her mother’s surprise and concern, Monroe reacts in a similar manner almost every time Mariah plays one of her own records to the babies (which is often).
The evil twin, Moroccan Scott Hero Carey, meanwhile, was so incensed by his exposure to such an appalling noise at such a young, innocent age, that he has miraculously mastered the power of speech simply in order to articulate his outrage. “I mean, her voice is pleasant enough I suppose,” the 0-year old explained, “but why does she perpetually insist on inserting all those extra notes where they are not supposed to be? She even does it during Baa Baa Black Sheep for God’s sake.”
Moroccan then became distracted by a brightly coloured shape, at which he sat staring, blinking for a few minutes, before focusing his attention once more and adding, “And don’t get me started on that ridiculously high-pitched shriek she does at the end of virtually every song. It sounds like a damaged cat having a fisticuffs with a castrated blackboard.”
Monday, 18 April 2011
GLASTONBURY GOERS WELCOME LINE-UP UNLIKELY TO DISTRACT FROM THEIR PRINCIPAL INTENTION OF GETTING SHIT-FACED
The full line-up for this year’s Glastonbury Festival was revealed this week, and has so far been enthusiastically praised by the majority of ticket-holders as there remains little danger of the music distracting from their primary concerns of watching jugglers, purchasing amusing headwear, lying facedown in the sun/mud, aimlessly wandering around talking drivel, and getting totally dribble-headed on all manner of legal and illegal herbal and chemical intoxicants.
Cassandra Palmer-Smythe, a student from Tunbridge Wells, tweeted: “Fought there wuz gonna be some propa legends on the bill. Luckily, U2 and Coldplay, innit. More time for ket wiv da boyz. Lol!”
With a line-up which also includes Elbow, Morrissey, Biffy Clyro, Mumford & Sons, Glasvegas, and Kaiser Chiefs, festival-goers have been relieved to know that there is very little reason to visit the major stages at all, and that they can simply relax and enjoy themselves safe in the knowledge that they will not be missing anything of any consequence or substance whatsoever.
Jasper Carter-Floyd, a marketing executive from Oxford who has been attending the festival since his teens, blogged: “Man, I remember when they used to have half-decent acts on. It was really rather dreadful. One year I spent two hours completely sober because I’d left some stuff back at Daddy’s camper van and couldn’t drag myself away from The Cure. Won’t have that trouble this year. Going to get really, really blathered.”
Organiser Emily Eavis emphasized that polls had proven that attendees had more fun when the acts booked were little more than background noise, even if this meant, paradoxically, spending more money on the headliners. Not all the bands which will be performing this year are completely mind-numbingly boring, but those which might excite have been kept to a bare minimum, whilst two of those acts, the Wu-Tang Clan and Beyoncé, are of African-American descent. They are thus unlikely to attract the attention of a large number of the festival goers, many of whom are, as proven by the controversy of Jay-Z’s headlining slot in 2008, massively intolerant hip-hop-hating racists.
Timothy “Peace Dragon” Dewhurst, a hippy who has been attending the festival religiously since its inception in the ‘70s, did not choose to announce his thoughts on the line-up via the medium of Twitter, instead choosing to stroll into Bristol city centre wearing a wizard’s hat and a glittery cape and announcing through a handmade cardboard loudhailer: “It used to be about the music maaan. Music and love. Love and music. You, me, the pagan brethren. I mean… for a start, where the hell are Hawkwind?”
When asked if he would be boycotting the festival, Mr. Dewhurst confirmed that he was still looking forward to The Crazy World of Arthur Brown on the Friday.
Friday, 8 April 2011
Courtney Love, rock-star lover and confidante of the party, had hired private investigators when the Conservatives went missing following the delivery of Chancellor George Osborne’s budget on 23 March, 2011. Love’s relationship with the Tories had become increasingly intimate of late. As well as dating the art-dealing heir to the Baron Hindlip peerage, Henry Allsopp, last year she attended a debate organized by Oxford University’s Conservative Association, and was subsequently awarded the post of “non-executive officer for rock ‘n’ roll”, whilst her tweets have included such naïve, ill-informed, and cloud-headed slogans such as “TORY NOW”.
Party leader and Prime Minister David Cameron was found by a maintenance man in one of the rooms of his 10 Downing Street home, a shotgun resting on his chest with which he had shot himself in his smooth, rubbery face. A suicide note was found nearby in which Cameron lamented his loss of enthusiasm for the world of politics:
For example, we’re backstage at the party conference and the lights go out and the manic roar of the crowd begins. It doesn’t affect me in way in which it did for, say, John Major, who seemed to relish in the love and adoration from the crowd which is something I totally admire and envy. The fact is, I can't fool you, any one of you. It simply isn’t fair to you or me. The worst crime I can think of would be to rip people off by faking it and pretending as if I'm having 100% fun…
Cameron had been listening to the latest album by REM.
Next door, Osborne’s body was discovered, the Chancellor having overdosed on an excessive cocktail of champagne, Rohypnol, and caviar. He was rushed to hospital, but medics were unable to revive the helmet-conked smarm-bucket.
Michael Gove, meanwhile, arranged a tragic suicide pact with Boris Johnson, in which the weasel-shaped Education Secretary strapped explosives to his body and commanded the fluff-headed Mayor of London to give him a croggy on his right-wing bicycle straight into a struggling South London comprehensive, before blowing the building, and themselves, sky high.
Many other Conservative MPs (too many to mention individually) have been found dead the length and breadth of the country, though mostly in the southern part of the land. The body of Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg was also discovered, though as he was not officially a Conservative the incident is thought to be a copycat suicide.
Conspiracy theorists have suggested that the death may in fact have been murder, that Love herself is directly involved, and that the obliteration of the Conservatives had been her plan all along. When pushed, however, most admitted that Courtney possessed neither the brains nor the tact to pull off such a remarkable feat.
Tributes to the Conservatives have been taking place worldwide, with fans gathering in their hundreds to commemorate their idols by burning candles, reciting the words of Cameron’s best-loved speeches, murdering foxes, mugging the poor, needy and ill-bodied, and offering sycophantic fellatio to workers from the banking sector.
Monday, 28 March 2011
Sean Penn is said to have become bemused as well as irritated when an interviewer raised the touchy subject with him; the actor then quickly steered the conversation back to his latest film project and his extensive political and social charity work. Gaga’s personal life has been the subject of much speculation since she announced the split, and rumours have been rife. Consequently, both Dennis Rodman and Guy Ritchie are said to be troubled by the news, whilst Warren Beatty has already filed a preemptive restraining order.
“Hegel remarks somewhere that all facts and personages of great importance in world history occur, as it were, twice. He forgot to add: the first time as tragedy, the second as farce.”
Karl Marx, The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte
Wednesday, 23 February 2011
The show, which is masterminded by executive producers Simon Cowell, Simon Fuller, and Tommy Keränen from Testicle Hazard, hopes to discover the next British Noise superstar, by auditioning hundreds of budding amateur glitch/drone/feedback artists. In front of a panel of celebrity judges, the contestants will be given the once in a lifetime opportunity to show off their din-making skills by performing either a self-penned composition or improvisation, or a cover version selected from a list of classic Noise hits, including Merzbow’s Degradation of Tapes, Wolf Eyes’ Stabbed in the Face, Whitehouse’s Wriggle Like a Fucking Eel, and Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music (Side 4).
On the judging panel will sit No Fun Productions’ Carlos Giffoni, L.A. serial noise collaborator John Wiese, French “harsh wall noise” artist Romain Perrot (aka Vomir), and Britain’s Got Talent’s Amanda Holden. Vomir, who is known for always performing with a bin-bag over his head in order to shut out any distraction (many of his fans do the same), will persist in donning the bag for the filming of the show, and yet will still manage to look less plastic than Holden, with her nauseatingly botoxed face, and dead, dead eyes.
An ITV press insider explained that, although Holden may not be a qualified expert on the Noise genre, she had managed to judge Britain’s Got Talent to great success despite the impingement of having none whatsoever herself. They added that ITV’s ratings were guaranteed to go through the roof every time she forced melodramatic tears down her pretend cheeks, and that, during the pilot, she cried for virtually the entire duration of Sheila from Glasgow’s forty-seven minute repetitive-scrape-jam rendition of Crowning the Fur Purse by Prick Decay.
As is customary, ITV3 will broadcast a sister show directly following the main programme. “Noise Idol Xtra” will discuss each week’s performances and results, victors and evictees, with special celebrity guests, and will be co-hosted by Konnie Huq from Blue Peter and the man from The Haters who always wears some sort of leather gimp mask. "Well, at least it's not Adrian Chiles," joked Huq.
Wednesday, 16 February 2011
The release of Kinky Limbs was announced on Monday, to worldwide excitement amongst people who think they listen to “weird stuff” but whose tastes are in reality demonstrably conservative.
A source close to the band told us that Radiohead, who are currently in the studio with producer Nigel Godrich trying to churn shit out quicker than an industrial sewage pipe, are confident that they can come up with the goods by Saturday’s release date, that the band work well to tight deadlines, and that, if need be, they could always resort to throwing in one or two Jeff Buckley covers, or simply producing a collection of inferior versions of their former glories like they did for In Rainbows, a record which nevertheless proved massively successful with listeners who think they like music but don’t really.
Tuesday, 11 January 2011
“Ah wuz Bob’s co-writuh, collaboratuh, an’ instrument of choice for forty-three yeurz, man, an’ ah wuz responsible for the sound that made him famous… the one mos’ folk can achieve only by wearin’ a peg,” said Bob Dylan’s nose. However, in late 2004 Dylan dropped his nose, citing “musical differences”, replacing it with his throat who has continued to tour with Dylan, playing mostly songs originally written with the hooter, now performed in a much more gravelly, but equally unpleasant, fashion. “Ah helped tuh craft an’ record those classic hits”, explained the nose, “which that phlegmy larynx haz hijacked an’ iz uzing tuh make himself millions in tour profits… you get me? He needz tuh pay hiz duez.”
Dylan’s first UK post-conk gig, at Manchester Evening News Arena in November ‘05 was a near disaster, at which a small number of Dylan’s older fans, disgruntled by the lack of nasal whining, heckled the singer-songwriter with taunts such as “JUDAS!”, “TRAITOR”, and “I OUGHT TO BUNG YOU UP MYSELF, ARSEHOLE!” Dylan’s more accommodating fans have since forgiven him, accustomed as they are to the musical legend’s minor, yet somehow controversial, spontaneous swerves in direction (such as abandoning acoustic guitars in favour of electrics, rejecting his Jewish heritage in favour of born again Christianity, and replacing inspirational protest songs with hastily-composed incomprehensible dirges about the apparent merits of Alicia Keys), and Dylan has continued to tour successfully throughout the world, performing to legions of frazzled beards and hipster twits.
The court case is set to go to trial sometime this March, as Dylan takes a break from his ongoing ‘Never Entertaining Tour’.
Bob Dylan’s throat, meanwhile, has been unavailable for comment, and is said to be busy working on a track called “I only coughed to say I love you” in collaboration with Tom Waits’ tar-coated oesophagus.