You know what you are... #2

Sometimes you happen upon someone - 'Kid Rock' for example - and think 'what a complete prick'. So congratulations to musician Ted Nugent - someone who aspires to being a bully and an animal-hating wanker. Loves guns - yet shat his pants to avoid the Vietnam draft. He's also contributed to overpopulation by fathering 8 (eight) children. Loves making bold, offensive statements too, so I thought I'd use my right to free speech to even the score a little and call a spade a spade - and a coward a coward.

So: guns; hunting; rampant reproduction and, naturally, a republican and Tea Party supporter. Ted Nugent - you know what you are: a complete and utter prick. And a draft-dodger. Now go and write a song about it, son.

You know what you are... #1

A new feature that cuts through life's bullshit. First up: Oxfordshire's Heythrop Hunt. Prosecuted yesterday for illegal hunting of foxes, contrary to the Hunting Act. Congratulations to the RSPCA for taking on the criminals. 

Julian Barnsfield and Richard Sumner - you know what you are: two criminals. And that's official. 

Hate to say I told you so (but I told you so)...

East West

A bit like being married to the Duke of Edinburgh, being a fan of Morrissey can put you in potentially uncomfortable situations from time to time.

In last year's Guardian interview, conducted by the poet Simon Armitage, Mozzer's quoted as saying "Did you see the thing on the news about their treatment of animals and animal welfare? Absolutely horrific. You can't help but feel that the Chinese are a subspecies."

Predictably - and correctly - the quote's still being debated among the fans, and in the wider media - including the Guardian itself, turning the great man into a literal page 3 stunner and revisiting the (very) old chestnuts of songs like 'The National Front Disco', 'Bengali In Platforms' and 'Asian Rut'. Meanwhile, the campaigning organisation Love Music Hate Racism have stated it's unlikely they can continue to associate with Morrissey.

It was going to be a busy afternoon on the Returns Desk at HMV's Shanghai branch.

On the unofficial-but-essential website, morrissey-solo, various ding-dong battles raged on the message boards. In summation, they were a hotchpotch of comments from the serious to the flippant, and all points inbetween.

For anyone interested, this blog believes the great man to be an unlikely candidate for racist views. Certainly, he's someone who's demonstrated the capacity to be bitter, biting and unforgiving. Simon Armitage, in fact, picked up upon the weird dichotomy that sees Morrissey, the author of lyrics as disarmingly romantic as those in 'There Is A Light That Never Goes Out' flirting with violent imagery: guns and knives. "All useful implements." Truly, he fights with his right hand and caresses with the left.

So although at times I think he'd make a good addition to Tony Soprano's crew, I do feel he's not someone who'd wilfully treat a person badly because of their skin colour, nationality, belief system or any other fixture of their racial or cultural make-up. It kind of seems too simplistic a reason for enmity for someone like our Morrissey. There are loads of other, better, reasons to dislike people.

Back to the statement. Offensive. Yes. Inaccurate? Of course. Typical Morrissey? Absolutely. This is Mozzer doing what he does best: Being Morrissey.

But deriding China, exclusively, simply lets the rest of the world off the hook. When it comes to caring about animals I'd argue that no nation can hold its head particularly high. Everyone's at it. The inadequates on deer or bear hunts in the USA are matched by those on UK country estates who blast grouse from the clouds and long for a return to (legal) foxhunting.

Even as someone who's abstained from meat for over 20 years, I knowingly consume battery eggs concealed in shop-bought cakes. I quaff alcohol that may well have been clarified via animal products. I've taken medicines, the (dubious) testing of whose ingredients will surely have been inflicted upon live animals in a vivisection laboratory.

So Morrissey went too far - but also not far enough. Having a pop at the Chinese is entirely justified. Just like his protestations against Canada's seal clubbers are right too. But these aren't uniquely - and exclusively - cruel nations or people. China's synonymous with the ill-treatment of cats and dogs, our domestic companions whom we name and recognise personalities within. Footage of a saucer-eyed seal cub being clubbed for its fur immediately screams C-A-N-A-D-A at us. But we're all at it. I know decent young women in vintage frocks and decent young men in vintage shirts who eat in vegan pubs they've walked to via vintage clothing stores which wilfully peddle fur. Otherwise liberally-minded media titles helps sustain the fur trade, and grant it approval and acceptance, by including products in their fashion features and spreads.

In Britain we have the decorum and good business sense to do our mass slaughtering far from supermarkets, canteens, restaurants and music festival burger vans. But we're still doing our slaughtering. We ask for pork when we mean pig, and steak when we mean cow. We're a nation of animal lovers - and we love them best with our mums' home-made gravy. The very fact that we - all nations - exist is bad news for animals. So, to paraphrase PETA's Ingrid Newkirk, when it comes to cruelty and disrespect for creatures who do us no harm, 'China is Canada is USA is the United Kingdom'.

Perhaps light years from here there's a civilised planet whose own real and proper poet laureate pop star may be saying "Did you see the thing on the news about their treatment of animals and animal welfare? Absolutely horrific. You can't help but feel that the human race is a subspecies."

Hard to hold without shattering - Vol. 1

Maybe I’m inadvertently starting the Anti-Enjoyment Movement, but I’ve always rationed things that I consider to be the best of their kind. Like I’ll only really watch The Godfather once every five years. I don’t want to get to the point where I’m over-familiar with it. But it’s arguably my favourite film. I’ve got mental lists of other movies I actively ration. So, largely for my own amusement, I thought I’d make an actual list. But not a list of films. This one’s a roll call of the songs that sock me so hard in the gut that I can’t just listen to them off the cuff. The conditions have to be right.

Whether it’s during one of the stages of Post-Relationship Failure Syndrome; a certain time of year or just because it’s a Tuesday, these are some songs that, for me, deserve to be doted upon and hugged too hard.

The list isn’t in any way exhaustive or in order of merit, and it quite probably won’t interest anyone except me, but here goes anyway.

To be super-annoying, I’ve noted an LP from where the song emanates, and typed a line or two from each number. I’ve typed the lines in italics because I’m just so like that.

Maybe if someone’s reading this they might check one or two of the songs out, if they don't know them, and enjoy listening to them. But just don’t enjoy them every day. OK?

Thanks to Tilly and the Wall whose lyric from ‘The Freest Man’ I stole for this post’s title

Vol. 2 and onwards of this entry will appear at irregular intervals. The amount of material made it too much to consume in one sitting.

Side 1

1. Walking In The Rain – The Ronettes

From: Phil Spector’s Wall Of Sound Retrospective – compilation LP

“They would never, no they’d never

Never ever love

Walking in the rain

And wishing on the stars up above

And being so in love...”

I’m a total Phil Spector bluffer. I know all the big hits and I’m working on the rest. So despite feeling something of a fraud, I have to open Vol. 1 with a clap of thunder and The Ronettes’ Walking In The Rain. If there’s a fault in this song either lyrically or musically I’ve yet to detect it. I love the idea of finding a soulmate who’s as out of step as you are; so the notion of wilfully taking a walk in the rain and wishing on stars appeals. They could have written about couples that are into collecting jam labels or whatever, but that wouldn’t have beaten walking in rain and wishing on stars. I wonder how everyone in the studio felt when they had it in the can? I wonder if they took the rest of the day off. I would have. But then, any excuse will do...

2. My Favourite Wet Wednesday Afternoon – The Siddeleys

From: Slum Clearance compilation LP

"Love that moves the sun in heaven, and all the stars

This is just a fraction of what is rightfully ours...”

The Siddeleys were unlucky not to gain even a portion of the success that contemporaries like The Sundays (deservedly) did. Sometimes The Siddeleys sounded, to me at any rate, a little like Talulah Gosh (listen to Wherever You Go or Are You STILL Evil When You’re Sleeping?), but My Favourite Wet Wednesday Afternoon is more sedate than those wonderful clatters. Mature without being grown-up. It pines, but never grates. Southend provides a prosaic background for lyrics loaded with longing. And, Victor Kiam-style, I was so impressed I wrote a short screenplay based upon the words. I bet The Siddeleys formed just so that would one day happen.

3. Wasteland – The Jam

From: Setting Sons LP

“And there among the shit, the dirty linen, the holy Coca Cola tins, the punctured footballs, the ragged dolls, the rusting bicycles we’ll sit and probably hold hands...”

It’ll annoy a lot of people, but I always describe the lyrics to Wasteland as being “Worthy of Morrissey”. I really don’t mean that to sound disrespectful to Paul Weller. Perhaps I should describe Smiths lyrics as being on a par with Wasteland’s words. The notion of probably holding hands is fascinating. Amid the urban junk, just what is the nature of the relationship? Two exes? Hopeful partners? Same-sex lovers? A platonic friendship? Later in the song the protagonist sings “Meet me later – but we’ll have to hold hands.” I love that development in the relationship. Just a terrific song.

4. I Could Be In Love With Anyone – Butcher Boy

From: Profit In Your Poetry LP

“Listen, tell me what's gone wrong

And I will come in dreams and I'll bleed into songs,

So you can sing them back to me.

Sun suspends my days in dust,

If my love made you lonely I'm sorry but the feeling flowed so easily.

And I could be in love with anyone.

I've been breaking hearts for fun...”

I’d say of all the songs on this volume, this is the one whose lyrics deserve to be featured in full. But I resisted. It’s an easy shorthand to describe song lyrics as poetry. I’ve read that tons of times, and I used to accept the description with no further thought. I’ve recently been thinking that poetry probably is something different though. I’m not smart enough to know quite what. But these lines are as like a poem as any actual poems I’ve read. It’s a terrible thing to admit, but even reading the words on screen delivers an eye sting. The music is just as beautifully constructed too.

5. Trouble Loves Me - Morrissey

From: Maladjusted LP

“In the half-light, so English - frowning

Then at midnight I can’t get you out of my head...”

For me, the best song on The Chosen One’s predominantly derided Maladjusted LP. This is one of those emotionally-indulgent tunes Morrissey does so well. The great man has a number of songs with the words ‘Me’ ‘My’ or ‘I’ in their titles, and whenever I see a new one I always look forward to hearing it because it usually delivers. An elegant and dramatic number, Trouble Loves Me also has room for playful lines like “So, console me. Otherwise hold me.” and “Oh, please, fulfil me. Otherwise, kill me.” Love truly is a battlefield. Flirting with being an anthem, if you’re ever feeling sorry for yourself, Trouble Loves Me superbly complements a glass of red wine and a frown in the half-light.

Side 2

6. My Maudlin Career – Camera Obscura

From: My Maudlin Career LP

“In your eyes there’s a sadness enough

To kill the both of us

Are those eyes overrated?

They make me want to give up on love

I’ll brace myself for the loneliness

Say hello to feelings that I despise...”

From the off, My Maudlin Career beckons you, like the Sirens from Greek mythology beckoned spellbound sailors to their doom. It’s magnetic. Hypnotic. So, fascinated, you move towards it, then -gotcha- it wraps you up in a thick blanket of sound and you’re not sure if you’re being hugged for company or detained for questioning. Does the song need you more than you need the song? Another remarkable offering from this band.

7. A Winter’s Sky – The Pipettes

From: We Are The Pipettes LP

“Underneath a winter's sky

Her eyes were bright

Tonight he finds her

Underneath a winter's moon

The last we saw of her, it came too soon...”

Just a lovely song from the hardly-prolific Pipettes. I always think the last line (above) adds a subtle note of menace. Is this the friends of the girl in question simply commenting that they don’t see their mate now that she’s found a boyfriend? Or was she bumped off? I guess we’ll never know. Either way, there’s some great brass at the end of the tune.

8. Lost Girls – Tilly and the Wall

From: Bottoms Of Barrels LP

“No one will ever save you

If no one can ever find you

Lost girls...”

I want to win the lottery just so I can buy a big mansion and live with Tilly and the Wall. They’re often bursting with an infectious energy and fizz that knocks your socks off (Sing Songs Along; Pot Kettle Black; Bad Education), but Lost Girls is a slow burner with a high school gym show feel to it. You can almost see a teared-up music teacher watching in the wings. The song’s fragile, dark - and somewhat creepy. But in the very best way.

9. I Won’t Share You – The Smiths

From: Strangeways, Here We Come LP

“I’ll see you somewhere, I’ll see you some time, darling...”

It’s been said a zillion times, but it’s the perfect end, at least in an LP sequencer’s world, to The Smiths’ career. This last song on the last album closes with a diffused, fading farewell; the words and music, appropriately, given equal weight. Lyrically, I Won't Share You is arguably Morrissey’s final love letter/suicide note to Johnny Marr, but I’m sure I’m not the only Smiths fan who imagines it’s actually the band saying goodbye to their audience. Heartbreaking.

10. Will You Love Me Tomorrow – The Shirelles

From: The Best Of The Shirelles – compilation LP

“Tonight with words unspoken

You say that I'm the only one

But will my heart be broken

When the night meets the morning sun?”

Deceptively sweet, but the words seems to be about sex as opposed to love. In every verse the title theme is explored, with the principal query “Is all this just to get me into bed?” An utterly gorgeous song, it’s an 18 certificate effortlessly masquerading as a PG.

Still reading? Here's the tracks again:

Side 1

1. Walking In The Rain – The Ronettes

2. My Favourite Wet Wednesday Afternoon – The Siddeleys

3. Wasteland – The Jam

4. I Could Be In Love With Anyone – Butcher Boy

5. Trouble Loves Me - Morrissey

Side 2

6. My Maudlin Career – Camera Obscura

7. A Winter’s Sky – The Pipettes

8. Lost Girls – Tilly and the Wall

9. I Won’t Share You – The Smiths

10. Will You Love Me Tomorrow – The Shirelles

Listening to:
Manhattan - LP (music by George Gershwin)

Glasvegas - LP by Glasvegas

Gold - compilation LP by The Carpenters

And Suddenly - single by The School

Bad Romance - single by Lady Gaga

Watching/recently watched: Play It Again, Sam; Pretty In Pink; Bananas; What's New Pussycat?; Morrissey - Hulmerist; Morrissey - Who Put The 'M' In Manchester?; Countdown; Limmy’s Show; Nurse Jackie series 1; Frasier (on TV)

Reading: Brighton Rock by Graham Greene; Puckoon by Spike Milligan

Playing: Nothing - but Fifa soon

Hacked off by: Being cold

Cheered up by: Great emails, texts and meet-ups; wine; chats; being able to play vinyl records again

ELCLTNEXE

It finally happened. Today I constructed a nine-letter word during the letters game on Countdown. I’ve waited years for this. The selection was IOTPTSIEN.

One contestant came up with the seven-word-weakling POTTIES (appropriate, given that during the stop ‘n’ chat that opens the show she revealed a desire to meet Margaret Thatcher...)

The current champion got PETITIONS for nine.

And I blurted out “Oh – oh – POINTIEST!”

I’m particularly pleased to report that the dashing lexicographer Susie Dent over in Dictionary Corner matched my own revelation. Aside from her fastidious attention to words and their usage, she looks like she’s a dab-hand at making toffee, jam and Victoria sponge cakes.

Listening to:
Assorted Smiths and Morrissey songs
Slum Clearance – compilation LP by The Siddeleys
Volume One – LP by She & Him
O – LP by Tilly and the Wall
Napoleon Sweetheart – EP by Northern Portrait
The Fallen Aristocracy – EP by Northern Portrait

Watching/recently watched: Countdown; Limmy’s Show; Nurse Jackie series 1; Frasier (on TV)

Reading: Brighton Rock by Graham Greene

Playing: Nothing at the moment

Hacked off by: Me

Cheered up by: A really wonderful encounter

Wonder

It's about a year now since the demise of Woolworths. Directly facing my street stands the corpse of one of the stores - (number 995) . Soon to be a Tesco, its not-yet-altered frontage is a temporary flag of defiance. As I type I can actually hear the recently-instated workmen as they begin Tescofying.

Woolworths store number 995, shortly after opening in 1958

I loved Woolworths. I loved their glue sticks and rulers; their chocolate oranges and boxes of Matchmakers. I was genuinely distressed to witness the last days at the close of 2008. At the time, a friend did rather pop the balloon of nostalgia when he enquired “Yes – but when was the last time you bought anything from them?” I was pretty much covered in that department, but his query was, I think, aimed at Britain at large. As another friend, on a broadly similar theme, once asked “Have you ever met anyone who can name one of the Busby Babes?”

Nostalgia did, in fact, feature prominently in the reporting of Woolworths' demise. Ordinary people recounted Saturday toys and Saturday jobs, favourite staff, treats for girls and buying their first ever single from the record counter. OK, maybe it did get a little misty-eyed, but then I've always pinned rose-tinted rosettes on the past. I'd much rather the comforting middle-distance of what was, than the imagined horrors of what will be.

Anyway, I have documentation to prove my loyalty: every awful photograph on every passport I've ever held was taken in that same branch of Woolworths. That one location, on the left, near the back of the store, helped catapult me across the world. And each flash from beyond the Kia Ora-coloured curtain recorded my disintegration at regular ten-year intervals. The most recent snap? It was from a ghastly talking machine in a supermarket. You do wonder from where the next one will emanate.

The case for the prosecution seemed to spin on the notion that Woolworths had failed to move with the times; it was anachronistic. Even when it tried to be hip it got it wrong. Like someone's dad at a party. Depending on who you were speaking to, the store had tried to do too much or not enough. It was either A) “It's where I buy Baby Bio – so why are they selling Friends box sets?" B) “I want to buy 5 litres of Magnolia and a Ford Orion under one roof.”

Whatever the truth, it didn't matter to me. Maybe Woolworths was muddled and out of date. And maybe that was the point. Nevertheless, in December 2008, and without my consent, garish Closing Down Sale signs were slapped on Woolies up and down the land. Like an advent calendar in reverse, imposing posters counted down: 'Ten days to go'; 'nine days to go'... But to go where? It struck me that most countdowns culminated in an event: a shuttle disaster or a new millennium. This was more like the pre-cursor to an electrocution. It just felt all wrong, and quite like an older boy nicking something from your childhood that had made you feel happy. That still made you feel happy.

I was lucky: I had the luxury of feeling affronted without being directly affected. 30,000 Woolworths workers faced the more-sharply-focussed reality of redundancy. And from soup to nuts, what I saw on TV, and first-hand, showed the Woolies army displaying an authentic fondness for their workplaces and colleagues; the very definition of the recently-unearthed World War 2 slogan Keep calm and carry on.

Woolworths store number 995, shortly after closing in 2009

So, toasting the passing of a genuine High Street institution, my brother and I machine-gunned off a spontaneous roll call of items – picture hooks; shoe brushes; chamois and golden gum – that we like to assume are as essential to contemporary Britain as rain and toast. We predicted, half in fear, half in hope, a nation hobbling, sometime in 2009, to an eventual halt for want of a brassed paperclip. We wondered - conveniently ignoring the existence of other outlets - from where these treasures would now be obtained. One year later, the reality - literally and figuratively - is they'll probably be bought from Tesco – if they're even bought at all.

By coincidence, on the day this blog was being published, the Woolworths sign was being removed from store number 995.

Listening to:

Wild Like Children - LP by Tilly and the Wall

Assorted other Tilly songs

Various Morrissey songs

Watching/recently watched: Dead Poets Society; Finding Neverland; Brooklyn Rules; Frasier series 5; Nurse Jackie series 1; Great British Railway Journeys; numerous worthless TV shows

Reading: Brighton Rock by Graham Greene

Playing: Wii Sports Tennis (very badly)

Hacked off by: Being cold 100% of the time; arrangements falling through

Cheered up by: A regular email correspondence; tea; red wine; toast