Great Lost Tracks - An Everyday Series

You gotta play these in order.

I think they might be save-able

http://www.box.net/shared/static/5gv8x7ap83.mp3

http://www.box.net/shared/static/91gvmnqie0.mp3

http://www.box.net/shared/static/4zify7f0a6.mp3

Not sure if this is a breach of protocol or not

Got em off a blog

No doubt the cycling Stalinist bastard will be along shortly to spoil the fun and administer a slap round the head.

Get em while they're loose kids!

You know how it goes...

You get all wound up...

You think you're gonna get the prize...

and then you give away a late equaliser.



During moments like these, I usually stomp clumsily all over the shop outta sheer embarrassment

Not fun

For anyone

On the plus side tho - solace is usually sought on YouTube where gems such as the following may be found.



I dunno what it is - but the more chronic my voddy intake, the more sense MES's lyrics make to me.

Is this a deliberate strategy on his part?

Just how smart is this bolshy cunt anyhow?

Is the fabric of society at risk?

Won't somebody think of the children?

YouTube is either the acme of human achievement on the planet...

...or the most evil, insidious drug ever devised by "The Man"

Who gives a flying one

When this kinda free-form genius becomes available

(As recently as a coupla months ago! )



"Cracker factory...
A place where you get into the working routine again
Re-habs for no-hopes
Pre-fabs for jobless dopes"

Read it in a magazine...



...you get pie in the sky when you die

'mon the bunnies

"John Webster was
one of the best there was.
He was the author of
two major tragedies.
The White Devil and
The Duchess of Malfi.
The White Devil and
The Duchess of Malfi."

Bonkers genius

Victorian dramatists don't seem to pop up that often in songs nowadays

It's a shame

I feel I should warn ya...

I got a whole Plissken-esque "I built this thread" thing goin on

(Plus a whole lotta other stuff goin on that nobody needs to know about )

I feel I should warn ya further...

Toots and I have decided (after dodging several social cluster-mines scheduled for this weekend) that the theme for this (riotously drunken) two-day hiatus from the daily G should be...

"I am a fucking idiot"

(Say it with me - it's fun )

The soundtrack is up to the weekend contributors.

You gotta justify any track you place on the music thread with a molto-obscuro, deeply personal or plain weird reason for choosing it.

Thus confirming yourself as one of those people who just dont fit a frame...

who are slightly out-of-synch with the zeitgeist...

who worry unnecessarily about almost everything from eye-liner shades to interest rates

Stenny Madders

In other words

All contributions gratefully received

In the meantime...

...here's some music

There are evenings when there is just no substitute for Mr Newman.

Obama should give him the freedom of the South or something. Just to fukk them up, dem good ole boys.

This has a certain wobbly, shonky charm.

Plus it's funny to see the epitome of uber-hairy-arsed-various (Parfitt & Rossi) come over all "deep" and "altered" when a pint of wallop was clearly the extent of their chemical wanderings at the time.

Plus...

I AM AN IDIOT!!! ......

...It's the very first radio-played pop song I have any recall of.

(Although me Ma reckons that I got very animated aged 2 at the Dave Clark 5's stompathon, Bits & Pieces)

I think it must have been Jimmy Young played it.

...I was sat on a very garish and swirly carpet.

....I also remember vomming up strawberry-mivvi inspired pink foam on a jigsaw involving robots to a soundtrack of same.

After an over-long journey in a Hillman Minx.

My name is Immo

And I'm a fucking idiot.













You get the gist?

Oh ffs. Status fuckin Quo.

Maybe G will like it

supermo wrote:Oh ffs. Status fuckin Quo.

You say that like it's a bad thing

Immo. It's a bad thing!!

VERY BAD.

Very uber-hairy-arsed-various-ist of you if you don't mind me saying.

Bigot!

Immo wrote:Very uber-hairy-arsed-various-ist of you if you don't mind me saying.

Bigot!

I can proudly say that I once walked out of a Status Quo concert at the Apollo in the 70s after being dragged there by a pal who was a drummer (of course!). It was excruciating. I'm no uber-musician but they were actually out of tune with each other ffs!

Terrible terrible band. So bad they don't even have a nostalgic maybe-they-weren't-so-bad after all kinda schtick.

As a child and novice pianner-pounder...


...I quite fancied a moderate level of success.

I was an orchestra-pitter... a back-stager... I knew that...

But just the same...


I was very impressed by (the hugely underrated) Alan Price's side-shed and moderate level of success/fame

See...

My uncle Billy had a similar tonsorial arrangement

And he played pianner in the Plough Hotel

(Hey Gee! Hope Y&Y's are good)

I have a V vivid memory of him all suited and booted for a gig,; polishing his shoes with an impossibly hi-tech device which comprised a wee plastic box filled with polish-saturated foam rubber.

I thought that piece of FR was just about the most urbane, sophisticated and sexy bit of kit I would ever see.

I was a fucking idiot.

I was right about AP tho

For Mrs Richards...

If having your strings pulled is driving you to thoughts of suicide

Don't be danglin them out there

You'll only look like a fucking idiot.

I remember one time where there was a big Friday night bevvy sesh/party at "the hoose" and I had already agreed to go to my mate's foosty-smelling, hogmanay-presbyterian-all-year-round place and sit and listen to records while his (much older than mine) parents looked benignly on.

It was awright.

But when I got back home on Saturday a.m. and smelt the stale drink and felt the residual, electric crackle of a raucous, Tremeloes 'n' Hollies fuelled night of roisterage...

When I thought of the big-laffs I'd missed watching rummed-up adults attempt to negotiate the stairs to the cludge...


I felt as cheated and bleak and blasted and hollowed-out as I think I've ever felt in my life and I realised...

I was a fucking idiot

I shoulda grabbed for the gusto

The fact that this was the first track on the wireless when I got home didn't help

Occasionally... life, sat on the swirly carpet, got impossibly exotic.

Sometimes Mam's friends would come round of an afternoon. They were all called weird names like Irma and Annette and Isobel.

A riot of Elnette-scented beehives, slingback kitten heels, polyester-floral-print mini-dresses and American-Tan tights.

Like a combined flock of lyre birds and peacocks landed in your (metaphorical) sand-pit.

I thought...

"Sexy glamour is a dream worth chasing"

(I'm paraphrasing obviously. I was seven years old. There was probably some stuff about the crapness of Tooty Frootys as a sugary treat and the dearth of laughs in the most recent adventures of Nick Kelly (and his assistant Cedric) as well)

Any road up...


I was a fuckin idiot.

It was Dusty I was in love with.

(And also the cartoon keyboard player out of The Archies )

This is a genius piece of extemporisation/improvisation.

Very visceral - tangentially touching.

And all it sez to me is Cumbernauld.



Is there a psychiatrist in the house?

No... seriously.

I'll pay the going rate

What is it?

Apes?

Ivories?

Peacocks?

Looking like a fucking idiot?



"...your scarf it kept your mouth well hid"

So ungrammatical

So aposite.

(For those with a terminally out-of-wack disposish)

PS

I'm v pyshed

I'm hoping all the good Tims on this board (Hey Crownybhoy!!! ) can find it in their hearts to make like the guy in the dress and forgive me.

I'll say three HM's one OF and plead extenuating circs due to it being my fifth consecutive night on the sauce.


PPS

If anyone can come up with a good suggestion for things to do with the last twenty years of your life I'd be much obliged.

PPPS

Basket weaving is not an adequately absorbing activity for adults no matter how many alliteratives you throw at it.


PPPPS

That singin thing wi 10 mins to go was a fukkin tingly thing wunnit

Oh God....

Oh God...

And the rest is silence...

(Thank fuck )



(He fucks up on the middle 8 - did you notice that too? )

He turns

...the fukkin

pages of the music!!

Ridiculous

Funny

But not as funny ( or anywhere near as absurd as life) as this one..



Where - at the end of each movement, the ridiculously constrained, programmed and entirely desensitised middle-class charlatans in the audience use the break between "movements" to cough and splutter and generally shoogle around!!!!!

It's almost as if they have no affinity with music whatsoever and only see it as an extension of their own narrow self image.

(Of course it wasn't as good as the "Rattle" performance in G'staad )



Still

A nice chance to laugh at em

The soulless, grasping, shallow, image-obsessed, middle-class cunts

Still...

Could be worse...

they could be fucking idiots

Nytol

XX

Nobody in the working class shallow / constrained / charlatan-like then?

No

You only imagined Jim Davidson, Bernard Manning, Richard Littlejohn and Kerry Catona.

It's a good job you don't drink anymore or your delusions might take root and convince you that these grotesque gargoyles are real.

Anyhow...


To biznizz...

Rule 1 for life

Never get involved in a post-last-evening-class-film-club-roister with any 33-year-old-students who know a little (but crucially not as much as you do) about Ye Puncke Rocke (c).

Rule 2 for life

If the subject turns to Y.P.R.(c) - you'll only end up back home, toked/rummed-up, siftin through the finest (figuratively... obviously) musical moments of yer youth...

Rule 3 for life

...so you can make a Y.P.R. compilation that has the chance of havin an impact on some (poor) 33-year-old student's view of the world.

(And annoy the fukk outta all the resident posters by You-Tubing selected tracks from same - obviously )

You'll only get suckered in and end up embittered...


...you fucking idiot

OK

So...

This may go on for a while...


So you should pull up your cushions....

...or whatever else you have with you that make's life bearable...


...in Stenhousemuir

(We saw your Warriors today and it was three goals to nil by the half... you should give other people just a little chance.... at football anyway I love postin a wee gag/ref that only Mo will 'preeshiate - it kinda draws him out )

For A - the genius of YPR

Two chords.

A heart beating fit to bust.

A cold, damp feeling that this is never going to end well...









...but enough about my private ( ) life


"I was standing in the bar -where were you?"

Also for A.