blargle
I done set out to gather all my scraps of poetry across the last 5 years or so. Turns out with a little editing they kind of fit together, although sense and sometimes language fragment and dissolve into, well:
'twig and grass. vol
un sess. fire. lekk.'
before becoming:
'kijuhgkg / hiuka gajk / gaijin hak / chate hain'
then pulling itself back together. A little:
'Da da da. Sporsen erei vlemon thlogip. Mran. Ring road. Pan. Aeth. Sh sh ploc vlrr pan vlrr vlrr eccost narm.'
Though after this actual words and sentences return.
It also turns out that my scraps, at least three of which were abandoned longer projects, amount to 24 pages. Which means there's the start of a book in there. At least there is if I can write something more, and other people find it as funny as I do.
Incidentally that includes the fragment I posted on Saturday, which has been added to.
The whole lot amounts to a fractured portrait of Manchester future past and present breathed-in with road debris dust.
I don't know. I was planning to say something.
Speaking of, how will MES save The Fall? I mean, there's no denying they're bloody awful on record these days. Sludgy, mid-paced, pastiche-Fall music trying to paper over the lack of invention (or confidence, or something) with sound. Not with noise. Not with silence. Not with spideryness. Not with abjection. Not with obnoxion. Just ordinary guitarbassdrums machismo foursquare thump thump thump sound. Not even the motorik/repetitive/psychedelic pulse they used to spin out for minutes at a time. Just lumpen grunting bloke-rock sound. Shit, if I want that I'll listen to Queens of the Stone Age. And I fucking hate Queens of the Stone Age.
And the trouble is Mark E Smith remains a bloody great writer, as well as a canny singer who's managed to adjust to his changing voice since the earliest days of the band, and continues to do so. But it all gets lost in the jockstrap stinking joyless grind that's been in place for a long time now.
Honestly the last album that holds my attention right through is The Unutterable from 2000. The Real New Fall LP and Fall Heads Roll have at least two tracks apiece I return to after that date, but elsewhere it's slim pickings.
I mean, the last few gigs I've seen have been great, and if Smith's happy then that's an excellent thing. But yeah, the recent records are fucking horrible. I find myself tuning out. MES gets not so much drowned out as lost under the crushing ennui induced by his dismal band. Some of the tracks on Sub Lingual Tablet sound like the vocal and the music were recorded without MES or the band knowing what the other was doing, and only having an approximate duration to keep them together.
If you really want to see how bad the current band are compare Stout Man from Sub Lingual Tablet with its first incarnation as Carry Bag Man. It's a shocking contrast. Maybe that's it now. Maybe it's a slow death by bombastic bollocks guitarstuff. I hope not.
Anything else? Oh yeah - thought about going back to Facebook, but then remembered all the stress it caused me. So fuck that, never going back.
If you want to see me, you have a gig on, or any of that shit, tell me direct. Use my email, use my phone, hit me up on Google+. But never, never, never use Facebook.
'twig and grass. vol
un sess. fire. lekk.'
before becoming:
'kijuhgkg / hiuka gajk / gaijin hak / chate hain'
then pulling itself back together. A little:
'Da da da. Sporsen erei vlemon thlogip. Mran. Ring road. Pan. Aeth. Sh sh ploc vlrr pan vlrr vlrr eccost narm.'
Though after this actual words and sentences return.
It also turns out that my scraps, at least three of which were abandoned longer projects, amount to 24 pages. Which means there's the start of a book in there. At least there is if I can write something more, and other people find it as funny as I do.
Incidentally that includes the fragment I posted on Saturday, which has been added to.
The whole lot amounts to a fractured portrait of Manchester future past and present breathed-in with road debris dust.
I don't know. I was planning to say something.
Speaking of, how will MES save The Fall? I mean, there's no denying they're bloody awful on record these days. Sludgy, mid-paced, pastiche-Fall music trying to paper over the lack of invention (or confidence, or something) with sound. Not with noise. Not with silence. Not with spideryness. Not with abjection. Not with obnoxion. Just ordinary guitarbassdrums machismo foursquare thump thump thump sound. Not even the motorik/repetitive/psychedelic pulse they used to spin out for minutes at a time. Just lumpen grunting bloke-rock sound. Shit, if I want that I'll listen to Queens of the Stone Age. And I fucking hate Queens of the Stone Age.
And the trouble is Mark E Smith remains a bloody great writer, as well as a canny singer who's managed to adjust to his changing voice since the earliest days of the band, and continues to do so. But it all gets lost in the jockstrap stinking joyless grind that's been in place for a long time now.
Honestly the last album that holds my attention right through is The Unutterable from 2000. The Real New Fall LP and Fall Heads Roll have at least two tracks apiece I return to after that date, but elsewhere it's slim pickings.
I mean, the last few gigs I've seen have been great, and if Smith's happy then that's an excellent thing. But yeah, the recent records are fucking horrible. I find myself tuning out. MES gets not so much drowned out as lost under the crushing ennui induced by his dismal band. Some of the tracks on Sub Lingual Tablet sound like the vocal and the music were recorded without MES or the band knowing what the other was doing, and only having an approximate duration to keep them together.
If you really want to see how bad the current band are compare Stout Man from Sub Lingual Tablet with its first incarnation as Carry Bag Man. It's a shocking contrast. Maybe that's it now. Maybe it's a slow death by bombastic bollocks guitarstuff. I hope not.
Anything else? Oh yeah - thought about going back to Facebook, but then remembered all the stress it caused me. So fuck that, never going back.
If you want to see me, you have a gig on, or any of that shit, tell me direct. Use my email, use my phone, hit me up on Google+. But never, never, never use Facebook.
Comments