Jez and Diane

A little ditty 'bout Jez & Diane
Two communist kids growing up in that Lahndahn
Jez he's gonna be a politician like,
Diane debutante on the back seat of Jez's bike
Rollin' round like Guevaras in Germany's east
Diane sitting on Jez's lap
Got his hands between her knees
Jez he says:
"Hey, Diane, let's run off behind a shady tree
Dribble off those Marx and Sparx
Let me do what I please"
Saying oh yeah
Life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone
Sayin' oh yeah
Life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone
Now walk on
Jez he sits back, collects his thoughts for a moment
Scratches his head, and does his best Stalin
Well, now then, there, Diane, we ought to run off to the east
Diane says:
"Baby, you ain't missing nothing"
But Jez he says:
"Oh yeah, life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone"
Oh yeah
He says: "life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone"
Oh, let it rock, let it roll
Let the little red book come and save my soul
Holdin' on to sixteen as long as you can
Change is coming 'round real soon
Make us woman and man
Oh yeah, life goes on
A little ditty 'bout Jez and Diane
Two communist kids doin' the best they can

(with sincere apologies to John Mellencamp)

Pre-Raphaelites

Get up in the morning, painting for bread, sir,
so that every mouth can be red.
Poor me, Pre-Raphaelite. Aah.

Get up in the morning, painting for bread, sir,
So that every mouth can be red.
Poor me, Pre-Raphaelite. Aah.

James Collinson, he just packed up and leave me.
Darlings, he said, I was yours to be seen.
Poor me, Pre-Raphaelite. Aah.

Germ them a-tear up, PRB is gone.
I don't want to end up like Bitumen mud.
Poor me, Pre-Raphaelite. Aah.

After The Clique that caused us some harm.
Our art style bought the farm. You sound the alarm.
Poor me, Pre-Raphaelite. Aah.

Poor me, Pre-Raphaelite.
I wonder who I'm working for.
Poor me, Pre-Raphaelite,
I look a-down and out, sir.

Times Have Changed

It's been a while since I bought any music, mostly because I got into house music, which changes so fast that it's almost pointless buying anything and because I get all the house music I like from podcasts.

However, my twitter mate the Pillsbury Doughboy, who, I must stress, still owes me fucking lunch, took the ballsy step of releasing an album called Times Have Changed and eventually I succumbed to him nagging like a fucking bitch and bought it.

Much to my surprise, it turned out to be pretty good.

A mix of grimy blues, bitter-sweet "singer-songwriter" and some haunting ballads work together really well. It has stood up to repeated listening and I actually liked all the songs.

My favourite tracks are probably "Dirty Blues" and "Kingdom of Dust", but even the ones I wasn't entirely sure of at first, like "If I Don't See You Tonight" have grown on me.

So, head over to Amazon or iTunes and hand over the readies. Maybe if he becomes minted from this, the fat fucker will finally buy me the lunch he owes me!

Late night classical music

Perspective

Incredible

Gil Scott-Heron was wrong

Reggae Blegging

I am mindful that my life lacks reggae. However, most of the compilations I can buy are filled with dreary pap. I have Natty Dread and Legend by Bob Marley, Bass Culture and Forces of Victory by Linton Kwesi Johnson and I have enough UB40 to be getting along with. Shamefully. I also have a decent ska collection, so I don't need any more of that.

I'm not desperate to buy vast swathes of albums, but I'm looking for interesting individual songs, I suspect that stuff from the early 70's to the mid 80's is probably a sweet spot.

As clues, I quite like Sinsemilla by Black Uhuru, Heads High by Mr Vegas, You don't love me by Dawn Penn and Montego Bay by Freddie Notes and the Rudies apart from the aforementioned bands.

I'm looking for stuff with a good beat and some kind of "hook".

Can anybody recommend their favourite reggae tracks?

With apologies to Simon and Garfunkel

Hello piles, my old friend
You've come to hurt my arse again
Because a swelling softly creeping
Grew big while I was sleeping
And the vein that was swollen in my arse
My poor arse
Hurts from swollen piles

On porcelain seats I cried alone
Arsehole hurts like shitting stones
'Neath the halo of a bathroom lamp
I winced with pain and felt my bottom cramp
When my arse was stabbed by the pain of a swollen vein
That wracked my brain
And hurt the ring of my arse

And then my naked arse was sore
Fucking piles are red and raw
Arsehole hurting with no shitting
Bleeding red with such hurting
Arsehole shitting blood and such despair
And I don't dare
To wipe my sore arse

"Fuck", said I, "I do not know
Why piles like a cancer grow
Hear my prayers that I might wipe you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of arse pain

And the clown, he bowed and prayed
To the porcelain god he made
And his arse flashed out its warning
In the pucker that it was forming
And the pucker said, "The arse of the clown is bleeding on the toilet walls
And toilet rolls"
And he cried from the pain in his arse

When I think about you, I touch myself

Tip of the clown wig to @babelfishwars

And another

A hungover boo

Thanks to the Skip Licker for this awesome tune.

Muzak

It's all a game to me

Sunday Evening Soul

Watford. It's a very dull place.

Something for a sunny Sunday

Friday Night Fun

Tip of the clown wig to @7shadesofshit.

What the hell

Gett Off

(I don't care if I've played it before. Cunt.)