Sheena Easton Take My Time

THE TEN COMMANDMENTS OF DRUNKEN VINYLS

1. Thou shalt play both sides of the record in their entirety
2. Thou shalt drink one can of Fosters or its alcohol equivalent per song
3. Thou shalt record ramblings as they occur to thee for the duration of the running time
4. Thou shalt edit out the swearing the next day
5. Thou shalt not suffer a Blueberry user to live

Tonight, on Drunken Vinyls, we are simply and bed wettingly beside ourselves with excitement, for WE bring YOU, from the super-brain of The Great Burk of the Galaxy, Gene Jizzberry himself – an exciting and stimulating innovation!

Oh here she comes, here she comes, here she comes again – the same old painted lady from the brow of the super brain. Stop. Hammer time.

Imagine, if you will, lovely Councillor Troi from Star Trek the Next Generation. Stop sniggering, Jenkins, and pay attention. I would like you to take the time to picture her saying the following: ‘Farpoint Station – even the name sounds mysterious’ remembering that she enunciates it slowly, intriguingly and in a lilting accent that supposedly hails from the stupidly sounding rent-a-planet Betazed, although to the untrained ear it sounds as though she comes from just north of Chard in Somerset . ‘Faaaaarrrrr-point Staaaaaaaytion – even the naaaaaame sounds meeeeeysteeeerious.’

We, here at Drunken Vinyls, are justifiably proud to have actually asked Councillor Troi here, tonight in our bedroom (if you please), to introduce this week’s piece. Although we can’t actually afford the equipment to reproduce her voice as an oral experience as such…JENKINS! Go and stand outside and put THAT disgusting object away…we nevertheless reproduce her unique inflections through the medium of the written word. Over to you, Deanna! We may call you Deanna, mayn’t we?

‘Drunken Vinyeeeels…even the name sounds meeeeeysteeeerious.’

Exciting, wasn’t it? Pardon us while we get tissues. It’s gone everywhere.

So it goes. This week we feel honour bound to apologise for recently rude comments about our hapless leader, David, as he continues his search in the garden shed for any soul record by ‘Urban Hip Hop Artist and Youth Guerrilla Reveal’. Pity the leader, for the search has been long, fruitless, frustrating but necessary, for if anybody has his finger on the pulse of the nation, it is He. One word from Him and David will surely be able to lead us out of the utter chaos our great Country has descended into. Only He can Reveal the way. Ah-ha-ha.

Pity also the youth of today who, after the excitement of riots, suffer long nights of the playing of downloads, the executions of X Box, the texting on Blueberries and the voting on television ‘for the nice sweet guy from the broken home with the voice that made us cry whose mum has Asponger’s Syndrome’

Yes indeed. It has been a week of strange portents. It is said that horses did eat each other, the birds of night did hoot and shriek in the marketplace and naked men were seen aflame atop a pile of a hundred ghastly women.

And that was just on the X Factor.

We must also applaud the efforts of gruesome duo Ed Rubberband and his brother Dave Milipede as they railed and plotted against the striking of the public workers. For clearly they misunderstand the pledge of comfortable retirement and bountiful pensions made in a hasty moment over 13 years of Government. And – in any case - why don’t they seek contentment by also downloading, shooting, texting and voting on the X Factor? Heavens – they might even vote in a real election one day! But clearly not for you.

Drunken Vinyls are further disgusted this week by the brand spanking new crime of Dwarfing and stand shoulder to shoulder with our leaders and cognescenti in condemning this vicious practice of putting rude and insulting messages on Facebook tribute sites. ‘Urban Hip Hop Artist and Youth Spokesman Reveal’ pronounced thus: ‘Facebook tribute sites are a useful and necessary social convenience. By instantly and competitively setting up such a site, a yoof can signal that they are the first to care, the first to mourn and the first to pick an appropriate emoticon. And all from the comfort of their own lap.’

We agree.

It is totally inappropriate to write underneath ‘Terry done a wee-wee, LOL.’

SHEENA EASTON: TAKE MY TIME

WHAT’S THE STORY?

Tonight’s vinyl recording has a long but, we think you’ll agree, exciting history. Glaswegian petlet Sheena was born to two parents in the suburb of Grungecesspitgrot, near to the industrial shipbuilding heartlands of the city. What is less well know is that her original name was Weston but her parents, with staggering prescience, decided to change their name to Easton by deed poll, ‘in case she decided to grow up into pop starlet Sheena Easton’. How wise they were. They had kept abreast of the budding careers of songstresses Sally Northton, Gladys Southton and Agnes Weston and knew that Sheena would have to be conspicuous in an already crowded arena of pop tarts. They also ensured that she was endowed with an amazingly prominent pair of breasts so that she could still further stand out and be noticed.

And noticed she was. It was only a matter of time before a member of the public sent an amusing picture of her to the late seventies BBC1 consumer orientated variety show “That’s Pork!” hosted by the dentally challenged but winsome Esther Bonkers and sidekick Cyril – pronounced Seeereel. Constipated Cyril excitedly waved the picture towards the cameras as, for him, it was an unusual item. Normally he would be the proud possessor of a carrot shaped like a cock but tonight he had a picture shaped like a girl.

A sentimental and eager public embraced Sheena (Gawd bless her) to its foolish collective heart, instantly demanding a fifty nine part serial, called ‘The Big Yawn’ starring the Glaswegian, making her very first recordings. The BBC could scarcely refuse because it could be popular and really really cheap to film. The first record, ‘Oh No I Sound Terrrrrrible!’ was unleashed upon the UK. The rest, as they say, is barely worth writing about.

SHEENA EASTON – TAKE MY TIME

Don’t Send Flowers

Disco beat – promising start – a bit adenoidal – some synths. We do like her voice. Music by numbers – something about flowers. There’s a computer programme that writes songs like this. Don’t know what she’s going on about but it’s heartbreaking, it really is. Don’t send flowers from Mallory Towers give me some hours – and then she ran out of rhymes. Thank gawd that’s over.

Cry

Sometimes doing this requires real patience and a stiff drink. We’re down to the bottom of the sock drawer and Wolves have got QPR tomorrow. But it’s okay, Joey Barton and Karl Henry get on quite well – seven dodgy tackles last year. This is crap. We’re not holding out much hope for Take My Time, neither. Hopefully it won’t take too much of our time.

Take My Time

This is not a nourishing sound – sort of schmingey. Poor man’s Fleetwood Mac off of Rumours.

When He Shines

However, this is much better. It reminds us of meetings where we don’t like our office, we don’t know what to do and we don’t like our office. You can actually have a meeting about meetings you are about to have. It’s called recursion. And recursion is what we’re up against. It reminds us of when you have a chance to have sex but the drink and apathy brings forth the melty man.

One Man Woman

This is like a regular constitutional. We’re braving this one. Playing it twice. It’s up tempo, it’s now. It has something today. She’s NOT playing around. She IS a ONE MAN woman. Written by rentasong. This is it. This is where it’s at. Sheena. Modern girl. You GO Gal. We’re struggling to stay awake.

Prisoner

Clearly a song about seminal 60s TV show, The Prisoner. I AM NOT A NUMBER, I AM A FREE MAN! This must have been a stomper live – in the mosh pit. We all held our lighters aloft. Where are those bubble things?

Interlude: This is the worst Drunken Vinyl selection thus far, to use a sporting cliché. We’re having a wee wee break. It does, however, beg the question as to why we actually own this recording. Sadly.

9 To 5

And here’s the answer…a piece of historic banality, turning back the clock of women’s emancipation at least a decade – well done Sheena, we love you here at D.V.

It’s that voice though; give her half a decent song and she pays you back in spades.

So Much In Love

Back to the shite, how many L.P.s have been sold on the back of one single track? I bet the buyers of this have set up a support group on facebook which is, even as we speak, being dwarfed (see above) by rampant  coolies.

Voice On The Radio

I hope it’s not DLT – the hairy wanker! Hang on, wait a minute, could it…no it’s still shite. Poor girl is trying everything to ring out/inject some life from every one of these ‘numbers’ – looks like her numbers up! Ffs!

Calm Before The Storm

Form echoing function – starting off calm – expecting a storm any moment…wait for it…we’ve run out if Bacardi Breezer..shit!

Onto the lager…just as well. No storm on the horizon. Sheena you can do so much better than this -

Modern Girl

Spirits in need of a good lift at present – could this be it…YES!

Music by numbers has never sounded so good. Give it to me Sheena, na, na, na, na, na, na, na na, na (ad nauseum). Rhyme of the week – magazine / tangerine – who’d have thunk it?

No One Ever Knows

Oh f*r f*cks s*ke – can’t wait for this to be over now – such a great voice carrying such drivel.  Sheena, you could have been a contender, you could have been so much more! Well done anyway.

All in all, when all’s said and done – Side 2 knocks the shit out of Side 1 but this is probably the last and final time we will ever listen to this L,P. in its entirety – Goodbye Sheena and thanks for the mammories……..mwah! Goodnight Horse.