Great Lost Tracks - An Everyday Series

For Mo...

We may differ occasionally...

But i don't care....


....what manner of strokes he pulled, dreams he crushed, aspirations he trampled on, pensioners... special needs kids... all grist to the mill... in the pursuit of ....



Seriously Moz - I come in peace - ya filthy, venal, self-seekin capitalist bastard

EDIT

I seriously hope you caught em on The Brits last night Crown

Fukkin awesome they were

EDIT II

A fukk-sight better'n that skank Duffy anyhow

For Crown... and Jimmy... and Glad... and Peps... and A (naturally )

All the popsters.

All the true believers.

A raw, under-produced (by Edwyn Collins incidentally ) hicuppy-funky and fuzzed-up delight.

The fact that the lead singer's angular-gawky, high-cheekboned beauty is thrown into sharp relief by the drummer's lumpy-permed, Plumstead, mainstreamedness is merely a bonus.









(Don't feel left out BTW . Once the drugs wear off I'll prolly get all cynical and crusty and there'll be the "classic" rock (sponsored by J. Clarkson Enterprises Inc.) segment to contend with)

For Mo...

...still crabby after all those hairs (fell out)

IGGY AND THE FUKKIN STOOGES!!!

Well alright



Open the doors

Gimme some air

Buzzcocks

Speaking to the depths of a soul near you

Sooner (and more frequently) than you'd think

That last remark was off-the-cuff

Yet I got nuthin up my sleeve

"Don't put your heart out on your sleeve
When your remarks
Are off the cuff"

("That's enuff... of the stuff... about the cuffs - Ed")

For...


fukk's sake!!!

I've got work tomorrow!!



Ah'll sithy in mi dreams

Nah think on.

Nytol xx

Maybe you did post it before Immo, it's still a CHOON! (Can we get a CHOON smilie please uncle licker?)

Immo wrote:For Mo...

Seriously Moz - I come in peace - ya filthy, venal, self-seekin capitalist bastard

You should never make assumptions about people, Mr O'green. For all you know I could be the most socialist fukker you'll ever meet, working in deep background. With a full head of hair.

Anyway I once walked into the Morning Star STUC annual congress folk night (always a fukkin misery and no mistake) with Jim Martin, then gen sec of the EIS. Being a bit pished at the time, Mr Martin hadn't realised the strength of his own voice when, confronted by Dick Gaughan onstage and a brief silence amongst the assembled comrades, uttered loudly the immortal phrase: "no' another song about fukkin deid miners!" You could've heard a pin drop.

I couldn't find Dick's unforgettable version of No Gods and Precious Few Heroes on vid, but here are the lyrics - some of the unconsciously funniest and most bitter words to a song you'll ever hear (and yet, and yet, of course it says something to us all, man. Of course it does, mutter grumble, immostyle digressions et al).

If anyone finds it on video please post!

No Gods and Precious Few Heroes
(Brian McNeill)
Song Lyric as sung by Dick Gaughan

I was listening to the news the other day
I heard a fat politician who had the nerve to say
He was proud to be Scottish, by the way
With the glories of our past to remember
"Here's tae us, wha's like us", listen to the cry
No surrender to the truth and here's the reason why
The power and the glory's just another bloody lie
They use to keep us all in line

For there's no gods and there's precious few heroes
But there's plenty on the dole in the land o the leal
And it's time now to sweep the future clear
Of the lies of a past that we know was never real

Farewell to the heather in the glen
They cleared us off once and they'd do it all again
For they still prefer sheep to thinking men
Ah, but men who think like sheep are even better
There's nothing much to choose between the old laird and the new
They still don't give a damn for the likes of me and you
Just mind you pay your rent to the factor when it's due
And mind your bloody manners when you pay!

And tell me will we never hear the end
Of puir bluidy Charlie at Culloden yet again?
Though he ran like a rabbit down the glen
Leavin better folk than him to be butchered
Or are you sittin in your Council house, dreamin o your clan?
Waiting for the Jacobites to come and free the land?
Try going down the broo with your claymore in your hand
And count all the Princes in the queue!

So don't talk to me of Scotland the Brave
For if we don't fight soon there'll be nothing left to save
Or would you rather stand and watch them dig your grave
While you wait for the Tartan Messiah?
He'll lead us to the Promised Land with laughter in his eye
We'll all live on the oil and the whisky by and by
Free heavy beer! Pie suppers in the sky! -
Will we never have the sense to learn?

That there's no gods and there's precious few heroes
But there's plenty on the dole in the land o the leal
And I'm damned sure that there's plenty live in fear
Of the day we stand together with our shoulders at the wheel
Aye there's no Gods