D is for DEEP PURPLE: MACHINE HEAD 1972

Oh Lydia, Lydia, Lydia…can I dance on your freedom carpet?

Last time on Drunken Vinyls we discovered that David Cameron, our esteemed leader, had been searching for the young soul rebels under his bed. Or was it the theme from Shaft? In any case, in order to do so, he had to come back to Number Ten from his holiday in Pontypridd, Cornwall. But as he has said himself: ‘In order to deliver the young soul rebels you have to have VISION'. Whatever that means. Most people seem to think that he’d have trouble delivering the post.

Anyway - moving on - we were…irked… this week to find that a whole day of Radio 5 live – which we at Dee Vee keenly follow – was given over to the liberation of Libya. This was quite frankly, in itself, intensely boring but was made worse when somebody pointed out to Radio 5 Live that Libya hadn’t actually been liberated at all until next week, making their ejaculations somewhat premature.

Don’t misunderstand us. We, here at Bourre Vinyles (Fnarr Fnarr) want to party, on that small bit of liberated palatial carpet, as much as the next man – or woman. It’s just that the constant carping on the airwaves of ‘Libya Libya Libya’ reminded us of the extremely crap Dean Friedman and his signature tune ‘Lydia, Lydia, Lydia.’ Well thanks a bunch, 5 Live, for reminding your listening public of his continued existence. ‘Well, well,’ said the rocking chair? Fuck off, Dean. He – and we - can thank his lucky stars that Radio 5 are not as smart as they’d like to think they are.

In other developments this week, Robbie Elliot moved to Geordie land whilst a million Gooners cry into their pints. Ahahaha.

So it goes. Join us now – future-kind - for our serious historical attempt to review all vinyl releases in the world ever since 1955, starting at A and ending at Z. The rules are simple and if you don’t know them by now, you will never never know them. Join in! Get out your record players, slap on your vinyl and get drunk with us as we give you: D

D is for DEEP PURPLE

MACHINE HEAD

No, you lovely foolish text addicts, not that sort of smiling-sticking-tongue-out D, so beloved of you, oh simple ones, this D is from something called the Alphabet. From a time when mankind had to read. You have NO VINYL, you say? No record player? You don’t OWN Machine Head by the Purpleoids? Then all is lost, lost.

Oh well. Scroll down and you can see some footage of Deep Purple performing Highway Star – their second number one single, successor to ‘Orville’s Song’ – on Top of the Pops back in 1937. It’s a cracker. What’s 'Top of the Pops'? Now we’re getting cross. Sod off and text somebody, why don’t you.

Those of you still with us, don’t be shy, slap your black on the table, crack a can and enjoy the voyage with us. We’ll review each track, musically and critically and - ultimately - come to an overall judgement as to its impact on history. And just while you’re setting up, let’s look at the backstory, shall we?

WHAT’S THE STORY?

DEEP PURPLE: MACHINE HEAD

 

It’s a truly fascinating tale from genesis to conception. Turns out that some mother with a flare gun set fire to the studios so they retreated to a safe distance and watched it all go to blazes. Richie Blackmore said something to Ian Gillan. I think it was ‘I’ll tear her all to pieces!’ but that might have been their bassist, Othello. Roger Glover nodded sagely and as for Robert Plant, well it turns out he wasn’t even there! He was off with some other outfit at the time called ‘Brotherhood of Man’ in the Eurovision Song Contest singing ‘Oh oh, Figaro, he’s got magic-o-o’. We’re fairly sure he wasn’t even in bloody Deep Purple.

This being not the case, we can’t say we really care and move onto more important issues such as – why are they giving away free packs of pencils in Wetherspoons anyway? And second: why are they giving away free packs of pencils in Wetherspoons? It’s a pub. I pinched a couple of packets anyway in case I needed some appeasement pencils. Does that make me a Hoodrat?

SIDE 1

Highway Star

Turn the bass up. This bassline was stolen from ‘So Glad to See YOU here’, by Wings. It throbs like a good un and… WE’RE OFF. By the way, make free with the video – play LOUD, mind, it’s good for your ears. What do they mean, ‘Ain’t nobody gonna steal my car?’ Haven’t they seen the UK  riots of last week? Oh, now – you see Roger Glover and Ian Paice were classically trained musicians hence the noodling during the bridge which we are now enjoying. The lyrics are poor at best, though. Back to basic thievery again on this one – either steal his girl or car and you'll be duffed in, or raced, or something – make your mind up, Gillan. Of course, those of you with musical memories will remember ‘New Orleans’ by Gillan. A different band, but we wonder if there actually is a connection, and we will have to look that one up. Double trouble there, perhaps…oh ahahah.

VIDEO: The DEEP PURPLE perform HIGHWAY STAR on TOP OF THE POPS circa 1937. Click PLAY.  Play LOUD. Turn it up to ELEVEN!

Maybe I’m a Leo

Still the Notting Hill carnival – what’s that about, eh? We didn’t see Hugh Grant the last time we went. Tourists looking for a stupid English FOP who owns a bookshop are in for a rude awakening should they be foolish enough to venture there, we can tell you.

Basic grinding twelve bar blues as ‘any fule no’…oh ahahaha again. Shucks.

Pictures of Home

Of course here in Cornwall we have just had our own very similar festival on the piazza – we call it ‘Fishermen’s Pride’ and, every summer, it consists of 40 to 50 dubious types jumping up and down blowing whistles for a bit. But where we live there’s only a small street or two, so by the time they’ve come round for the fifth time they stink. There are only so many rods and hooks you can take, you know, and besides they’re a pretty duff bunch when all is said and done. Not one of them can play an instrument. Well one or two can play with an instrument but that’s quite enough of that, thank you. Dab hand on the old whistles, though and when it comes to jumping up and down, they’re second to none. Useful – should you ever require jumping, whistling nitwits. As my great great grandma used to say: ‘After three days, fish and visitors stink.’

Never Before

It has been alleged that this is their response to the question ‘Have you ever worked?’ But not by us. Oh dear me no.

SIDE 2

Smoke on the Water

Now – as any fule no – this is the riff that started a thousand air guitarists on their careers of greatness. Do people still do air guitaring? Mostly we notice that the hit parade is dominated by ‘Urban Hip Hop Artist and Spokesman Reveal’. Certainly one of the modern greats. But does one do air guitar to that? We hope so, we really do. 

On reflection, we would hate to think that the yoof of today (bless them) was being in any way cheated by hordes of sloganeering bandwagon jumping and talentless mouthpiece types jumping up and down with whistles to a nicked bass line. Sorry, sampled, we meant sampled.

Lazy

Glover and Paice start with some cod classicism – but it’s rather nice, isn’t it? Then the tension that builds up relaxes into yer basic, common or garden, twelve bar blues that we can all play on the Double Bass. We learnt it at school, remember? All together, now: One-Oh-Four-Oh-One-Oh–Four-Oh etc etc. We’re lazy, we stay in bed – hang on are we back at the carnival? Please say no go. Say no go.

Space Trucking

Yowsah – sorry – this is cool! Venus, we'll be having a ball on Mars. Naughty, gentlemen, very naughty – how long before - ahem - Uranus puts in an appearance? Let’s GO SPACE TRUCKING! It reminds us of Fireball XL5 and Mr and Mrs Spacespy. Oh the innocence. These tracks belong in a different time. 

And then – all finished – record all gone away - for another month or two. Boh.

Well we always finish by asking that SIMPLE question – what have we learnt this week, boys and girls? No mention of Uranus in that last track. Personally we feel, given all the recent carnivals, a wasted opportunity.

For a double entendre.

Oh, behave.

ERIC CLAPTON 461 OCEAN BOULEVARD

If it’s Friday, it must be Drunken Vinyls

Last week on Drunken Vinyls we discovered that Darwin was a fan of the Conservative Party. And why wouldn’t he be, I ask you? This last fortnight has been a momentous one for the Conservative Party and it is only right that we stop to ask ourselves some searching questions about the state of our England, Oh England, our Lionheart here at Drunken Vinyls and interrogate the Conservative Party. In short we must search our souls, to find the state of the nation’s soul.

At Drunken Vinyls, we often indulge in soul searching. I have, for some time, been trying to locate a Jimmy Ruffin single with no success. My mate is also looking for ‘Move On Up’ by Curtis Mayfield. And it is a well documented fact that Dexy’s Midnight Runners have been searching for the young soul rebels for quite some time.

And we are not alone. Going back to the Conservative Party, David Cameron himself told me that he was fed up after the week we’ve just had what with riots and all that. ‘I can’t find Shaft by that bloke that wrote ‘Theme from Shaft’,’ he complained, bitterly, over a glass of Lambrini.

They tell me that rioters are being handed out sentences that are too severe. This makes me think that if I was bothered I could write some jokes about long sentences or sentences with some rude or challenging words in them such as, in a camp way, ‘OOO get you, you’re a very naughty boy, take THIS sentence, it’s got three non sequitors in it and a gerund,’ but, quite frankly, I’m not arch enough or camp. No really, I’m not.

So it goes. Join us now for our serious historical attempt to review all vinyl releases in the world ever since 1955, starting at A and ending at Z. The rules are simple so here’s Darwin himself to explain it to you.

 DARWIN HIMSELF AT OURS

‘Ello my leetle petit pois. Bienvenue a vinyls de soulard. Nous somme la plage. Ou est la plage? Ah, oui, la plage c’set viola. La vinyls ils sont soulard aussi. Mais – ils important pour la jeudi. NON! NON! Jeudi, c’est maintenant ici MECHANT! Mechant petit fils et filles NON JEUDI!

To be fair, I think Darwin explains it very well. Thank you, Darwin. Come again, if you’re ever in the area. Have a slash on the way out, won’t you? The facilities are located to the right of the patio – it’s called my back garden.

Hello, you lovely future-kind, take this message that I give you, take it sonny and hold it high. Believe every word you are about to read, for tonight, we give you, the old clapper himself, the big dong, Eric Clapton!

C

ERIC CLAPTON

461 Ocean Boulevard

Old Clappers or ‘The Dong’ as he was wont to be known, had originally conceived the record being reviewed tonight as one in a series of concept albums – now a swear word in musical circles – starting at number 1 Ocean Boulevard and finishing at the end of the street with number 596 Ocean Boulevard. The concept itself was staggeringly original yet succinct in its freshness. He and his mates, Bonnie, Delaney, Ginger Baker and Keith Chegwin out of Swap Shop, would kip for the night in each house and write a quick LP to be put out the next day.

However it was not to be. There were two main problems – the first being that no one liked the look of number 23 Ocean Boulevard for a start. ‘It’s a right dump!’ opined Delaney, and Clappers was forced to agree. ‘I ain’t stayin’ there, nether Eric, concept album or no.’ The second problem that derailed Clapton’s genius was that nobody knew who Keith Chegwin out of Swap Shop was. Why was he there? It was a mystery.

A mystery that was quickly solved when, at the sessions for 2 Ocean Boulevard, somebody noticed that all the instruments were missing. They had been swapped for a teddy bear, a game of battleships and a Rod Stewart poster. One thing that is extremely noticeable to the discerning music fan is that the sound on 461 Ocean Boulevard is extremely tinny, due in no small part to the fact that Ginger Baker’s drum kit had been swapped by Keith Chegwin out of Swap Shop for a Rolf Harris Stylophone and a toy trumpet.

It was a disaster. Clappers was beside himself with fury and the appearance of Noel Edmonds waving a cuddly purple dinosaur or Maggie Philbin in her jodhpurs didn’t help matters, neither. Even John Craven was unable to placate the apoplectic musician. ‘You Egg!’ screamed Eric, to Chegwin, ‘Young fry of treachery!’ - and I’m afraid even I can’t repeat what was said to poor Noel: a bit like ‘Cearded Bunt’ but rearranged a little. In front of all those viewers too. Later, when it had all calmed down, it turned out that Bonnie had tried to get Keith Moon from the Keith dictionary of Keiths but had misread the number. It could have been worse. Just beneath Chegwin was Keith Harris and Orville.

So we are left with one out of a planned 595 albums. And the number of that one is: 461. 461 Ocean Boulevard. Enjoy it, if you please, with us now.

We give you 461 Ocean Boulevard by Eric Clapton. Please make free with the accompanying video of the first track, which is:

Motherless Children

It starts with a furious guitar riff – or the approximation of one as arranged for stylophone and tin trumpet. I remember this was used in Not the Nine O Clock News, and Rowan walks into a lamppost. I used to play bass guitar for the Royal Navy and it was no picnic, slapping a bass and marching whilst towing a massive speaker behind you on roller skate wheels. I learnt my technique from able seaman Mark King who later went on to form the moderately successful Level 42. He was rubbish on the upper deck and couldn’t tie a bowline or throw a heaving line, neither. Let’s crack another tinnie. 

Give Me Strength

This reminds me that I used to weight lift for the Royal Navy, which, ironically took some strength. So here comes that blues guitar. It sounds blessedly lovely on the vinyl – you can hear every nuance. Gospel. Lord give me strength because I’ve done so much wrong. And who can’t empathise with these sentiments? This sounds great with a couple of lagers.

 

Willie and the Hand Jive

A not very subtle knob gag, obviously. What were you thinking Eric? Lowest common denominator. We are disgusted.

Get Ready

I went for a pee when this was on – but it seemed reasonably nice. The flush of the toilet drowned out the chorus. Drowned out. Geddit? Oh well, please yourself. I commend it. A sort of choppy bass, slightly reggae. Maybe it should have been ‘Get Reggae’. Then some gel – probably Bonnie or Delaney came on and spoilt it. A bit.

I Shot the Sheriff

Now – I didn’t used to shoot the sheriff in the Royal Navy but I would have been ready so to do, had her majesty come up to me and said, ‘Drunken, we need some sheriffs shot now.’ But that never happened. What a wailing noise, though. I shot the sheriff but I failed to shoot the deputy. If you were in your home town being tracked down – WHY THE HELL WOULDN’T YOU MOVE? Hah! Stupid song, this. No sense. I tell you what, though, we wouldn’t be in a recession if the guy what shot the sheriff moved to avoid being hanged because Barret Homes would be doing very nicely thank you. What a nitwit. I shot the sheriff so now I’m going to hang around and plant some seeds. We need less people like this in bloody England. I’m going to plant some seeds? Knob.

Can’t Hold Out Much Longer

An inauspicious start to Side 2. Not good. This one seems to be about his kids or something – he can’t hold on to them. Probably he’s a bit divorced and his kids want to go to Paignton Zoo but he’s been taken to the cleaners by his ex missus and can’t afford it. Shame really. I don’t care what they say, Paignton Zoo is a GOOD day out.

I miss the Man from Barrett in his helicopter. And snuff tins in the road. And Aztec bars. 

Please Be With Me

Oh this is lovely – this is why we love this record, eh kids? The thing about vinyl is you can hear the top, the bottom and the instruments are in every different corner of the room. Oh the innocence of it all. We’ve lost it all. The needles got fluff on it and will have to be cleaned – but doesn’t that add to the charm?

Let it Grow

Two roads diverged in yellow wood. I shall be telling this with a sigh. Somewhere ages and ages hence. Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference.

Well what more is there, absolute classic.

Steady Rollin’ Man

Last night I went to a disco – my friends were there BUT they wanted me to dance. 'No Julia, no! Julia, I would be like your embarrassing father at the wedding. Don't you remember how that is? Oh the knuckle biting! Oh the shame!' But she tells me that she has no daddy. No daddy? I was choked so I told her that I'd be her daddy. 'Let ME be your daddy,' says I.  She spent the rest of the evening whispering to her friends and pointing at me. I left shortly after that. I could have taken her to Paignton Zoo, too.

Mainline Florida

Now hear this, future kind. A good LP lasts 40 minutes and is programmed perfectly to build to a crescendo on each side by the artist. It has two sides and both are expertly devised like a work of art which is why vinyl is so important and why IPODS and BLACKBERRIES have betrayed a generation of  kids. If we live in an instant world where nothing is real, everything is transient, then what price the future? People tell me that they don’t have a collection of vinyl because it is bulky. Takes up room. So HEAVY.

Oh boy. You’re going to carry that weight. Carry that weight. Carry that weight. A long time.

See you next week for more Drunken Vinyls. Sometimes Good, Sometimes Bad. Sometimes happy. Sometimes sad.

Still, we love you all.

THE BEATLES - THE BEATLES ARE THE CAMP FAMILY

Welcome, once again, to Drunken Vinyls

You have accidently entered (and why wouldn’t you?) into the most important scientific study known to man since Darwin discovered a town called Darwin in Australia whilst out and about discovering things.

‘Pon my soul!’ he probably said at the time, ‘That would be dashed handy if I lived there, for would it not save a lot of ink when religious nutters addressed letters to me? And plenteous quills from swans would no longer be required, thus saving them from many a watery grave!’

But we can’t be sure – although it is fairly well established he was into conservation.

We digress. Here, then, is our serious historical attempt to review all vinyl releases in the world ever since 1955, starting at A and ending at Z. It’s painstaking. And remember this is not for the IPOD generation – because we know who you are and we hate you all. So sod off and take your Blueberries with you.

We write this in order that those who come after us – future-kind as we like to think of them – will read these words and actually believe them. But as all simple people, we make our homes in the discarded stalks of toadstools. Therefore the survey MUST take place on a Friday – or any other suitable day of the week except Tuesdays - we hate Tuesdays – and furthermore that we must drink a can of Fosters per each track reviewed. Although one of us admits to liking Theakston’s Old Peculiar.

And we did B and A last week. So it’s B again.

THE BEATLES

THE BEATLES ARE THE CAMP FAMILY: PUTTING THE WESTERN BACK INTO COUNTRY AND WESTERN

THE MOST CRIMINAL RECORD EVER!

 

Old Beatles Joke: In 1973, Ringo enjoyed several hit records. In 1974 he bought some more and enjoyed those too.

But in 1975….one of the most popular groups in the world, The Beatles, attempted to bury their differences and reunited for one last time together in those famous studios at Abbey Road to record their final legacy to the world. They laid down the fourteen tracks for their final, and some would argue, least popular album ‘The Camp Family: Putting the Country and Western back into Country and Western.’

It’s easy to be cutting in retrospect but it’s fair to say that it wasn’t the most inspired idea they’d ever had. This LP became about as popular as a camembert cheese left for several days on the back seat of a Skoda in the Sahara desert.

Unsurprisingly it was Paul who was most enthusiastic about the new album. Temporarily disbanding his supergroup Wings for a long weekend, in order to spend some quality time with boyfriend John, it was he who suggested a camping trip to the Blue Ridged Mountains of Virginia inspired by his enjoyment of some episodes of ‘The Virginian’ he’d watched with his long term spouse, Linda, in between recording sessions for the ‘Venus and Mars’ long player.

In later interviews he explained his decision in his endearingly thick scouse accent: ‘I watched some episodes of The Virginian with Linda which inspired me.’

In a state of excitement he had telephoned John and was encouraged by his confession that he had now become hopelessly addicted to Marlboro Cigarettes and would love to, as he put it, ‘Come to Marlboro country, come to where the flavour is.’

By now both men were thoroughly stimulated and determined to reunite the greatest band ever to come from Woolton. Summoning George and Ringo by rubbing their magic lamps, in a puff, all four decamped from England only to set up camp in the vicinity of the aforementioned mountains at a place called ‘Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet’ with only the hard earth for a bed and the light of flickering candles to compose by. Paul instantly conjured up an exciting title for their new Magnus Opus: ‘The Virginian’. However, John – somewhat reasonably – suggested that this title had already been used and proffered ‘Marlboro County - Where the Flavour Is.’ It was an inauspicious start.

Latterly, in interviews, Paul explained the dilemma in his charmingly broad scouse accent: ‘I suggested ‘The Virginian’, but John said that was shit.’

Things looked grim, but ever the peace maker, George quickly stepped up to the plate. ‘Gee guys,’ he proffered, ‘like, we’re a family and we’re camping. How about ‘The Camp Family’? It was a very tense moment. Paul and John, it’s reported, glowered at the embers. But suddenly their faces cracked into cheeky Liverpudlian grins and George knew that disaster had been averted. The Beatles were ‘The Camp Family’. They set to creating tunes straight away.

Creating the record, as is well documented, was far from easy, as they were constantly and incessantly interrupted by Ringo. ‘I like my beans with ketchup, George, how come we ain’t got no ketchup?’

‘Christ!’ exploded George, ‘Whatever we ain’t got, that’s what you want! I could live my life so easy if it wasn’t for you! What’s that you got there? Is it another mouse? Give it to me! I’m a throwin’ it into that there brush! I ain’t doing it for meanness, that mouse ain’t fresh!’

‘Tell me about the rabbits, George.’

John and Paul knew they were up against it. The first two tunes ‘No Ketchup on my Beans Blues’ and ‘Mouse Ain’t Coming Home’ were complete non starters musically speaking. But by an astounding stroke of luck, in the very next tent to theirs, was none other than Dolly Parton, Tammy Wynette and Willy Nelson. The rest, as they say, is history. If you want to know any more, look it up on Wikipaedia for Christ’s sake – if you have that after financial armageddon. Ahahahaha – look what we did to you, futurekind!

Released on the budget K Tel record label, ‘The Beatles are The Camp Family’ bombed, selling less well than the Buttoneer and Brushomatic. It was propping up the bargain bins in Woolworths in time for Christmas. Ironically it is now as rare as those two items – therefore we had to review another record entirely – which is:

THE BEATLES

BEATLES FOR SALE

THE MOST AUTUMNAL RECORD EVER! (Possibly)

Oh, the Beatles – you got to love them; I do. I read the other day that ‘Baby in Black’ was so closely harmonised that music publishers didn’t know whether to take one or the other as the guide vocal. Does that mean anything? Have you read ‘Revolution in the Head’? Noel Gallagher has. Clearly.

Here we go.

This is live. We just came in from the Charity Shield – Manchester City v Manchester United. United won. Cracking game. Poor Noel. This is for you. If you follow football, you’ll know.

No Reply

It’s a muffled start. Crap on the needle. Folk guitars – oh, I know this track so well. I wonder how many times? Bought this when I was 15. Still plays. Amazing, eh? You got to sing along. When you gave me no reply. Feel a bit drunk to be fair. John saw the light. This reminds me that I must replace the bulb on the landing. No reply. No reply.

 I’m a loser

Tell you what – it’s a melancholy listen, this. He’s a loser and ACTUALLY – who are we crying for, exactly? Well you CAN’T GO TO SEA ON A BOGIE! I told them and who listened?

Baby’s in Black

Well this is in six / eight time – folksy again. This LP is off the beaten egg.  A bit like Johnny has been so long at the fair. How long will it take? As a piece of music, this is quite fabulous. Even under the influence of alcohol. Never review a Beatles LP – well I had to do it – but it’s quite simply awesome. How did they do it? Listen. Kids, we’re going to put it on again. Now, this means…taking the needle off the black record and moving it BACK a bit!! Yes – Jimmy – I’m talking to you. Remember, when, in class, I gave you a record, and you said to me, ‘But sir, how do you know where to put the needle on?’ OH – the youth of today. They’ve got something to say. Don’t listen. It’s usually a lie.

Rock n Roll Music

Cracking – just cracking. On a diet at the moment – I’m always on a diet being a bit fat . It’s a no carbohydrate diet. I wish I had some pork crackling. Very tasty. Pork rinds boiled in their own gravy and placed in a bag for your delectation. I’d eat that now, I really would. Bloody spaghetti is a bit carbohydrate. Being Italian has it’s drawbacks. You become dark, brooding and plump.

I’ll Follow The Sun

Wistful. Reminds me of my fifth ex wife. Wonder why no one ever stays with us?

Mr Moonlight

A bit crap, this one. My son complained about our next door neighbour, Shar*n having sex too loudly. Earlier today, I had said to him ‘Oh look, a gentleman caller for Sh*ron’ by way of an opening conversational gambit at breakfast – he being a bit of a tongue tied hobbledehoy and, at the age of 20, unable to speak without getting his tongue caught in the shag pile. So, as this gentleman walked down the path, I innocently pointed it out to break the icy silence at our table. You would have thought ‘Oh look a gentleman caller’ would be received with a nonplussed look of surprise. Wouldn’t you? ‘Oh look, a gentleman caller, for ‘*haron’ Not a bit of it! I was DISGUSTED! Oh my gravy! I was not prepared for his graphic descriptions of the twice nightly noises.

Kansas City

Never been there, never will either.

Eight Days a Week

Hmmm…any fool know there's only 7 – what’s that like, then?

Honey Don’t

Frequently heard in my bedroom at bedtime. But usually without the prefix ‘honey’. ‘Don’t’ often substituted with other similar words along the lines of ‘Get Off’, ‘F*ck Off’, ‘What’s That?’, ‘OOO that’s a big one’ (But I wasn’t in the master bedroom at the time), and ‘Leave that alone!’ etc etc.

Words of Love

OH! A-hahahaha. Like that would ever happen.

What You’re Doing

Good question, Sharo*. I have an innocent 20 year old son, who was put off by picking up some non specific complaint and NOW you keep him awake – twice nightly – with your ostentatious noises. What are YOU doing? And why don’t I ever hear anything?

Every Little Thing

A bit weedy this one, but you got to like Ringo’s fills on the kettle drums. Somebody once pointed at me, in the trouser area, and said something like the title of this song, a bit. I appreciated the sentiment in terms of honesty, but I can’t pretend it didn’t hurt.

I Don’t Want to Spoil The Party

Now actually I know where John is coming from on this song. I’ve (generally) always had a ‘drink or two’. Well more, really.

Everybody’s Trying To Be My Baby

Nobody’s trying to be MY baby, so stop complaining.

Bloody hell, reader, I’m twonked. But in the way of it – this is going up. Next week D. Wonder what D has to offer? Did we do C? Bugger. I hate Coldplay.