Z is for ZZ TOP: ELIMINATOR (1983)

Z

ZZ TOP: ELIMINATOR

(1983)

 THE FINAL TEN COMMANDMENTS OF DRUNKEN VINYLS

1. Thou shalt play both sides of the record in their entirety, then take it to your local charity shop where it may be assured of warmth.
2. Thou shalt notice that 'cheap lager' is now an oxymoron but drink it nevertheless.
3. Thou shalt record for posterity those drunken ramblings as they occur to thee. No one will read them.
4. Thou shalt swear during the drinking and playing of the record. Swear never to do this again, that is.
5. Thou shalt grin smugly and note that Blackberry I Phones are going out of business. It is not thy doing.
6. Thou shalt never mention the 'Hip Hop Artist Called Reveal' ever again but note that, so far as you are aware, he has not been heard of or had a hit in the last two years and neither has that other utter weed 'Women Like Brickz'.
7. Thou shalt drive immediately to that place in Surrey where them protesters from Camp Pou are whinnying about Fracking and drown them in boiling oil or at least give them the finger. 
8. Thou shalt not observe that 'things were different in the 70s it was like a different era'.
9. Thou shalt continue to play vinyl records and bore everybody in the pub by saying 'they sound better than downloads'.
10. Thou shalt observe, as appropriate, that Arsenal have still won nothing. Thou may observe that Bachary Sagna looks like an utter weed with those beads in his hair. Like some latter day Judy Simpson. She didn't win much, neither.

Hello You!!

AND.. welcome to Drunken Vinyls: The Finals. Yes readers, this is the very very last post. And what a journey it has been! Exploring all known vinyls known to man (yes that was a deliberate tautology; we can do that, that is what we do)(Oh, another one - did you spot that?) from A - Z. Getting merrily pissed along the way. But now it's time to turn and go away. Although we never really did 'A' ...did we? Don't get your hopes up because we have bigger fish to Glen.

Cockney rhyming slang: Glen. Glen Frey. Fry. Geddit? Bigger fish to fry! No? Oh well. Please yourselves.

Pato Banton: Exploding the Myth

A Drunken Vinyls Psychoanalysis Special

In his dull and miserable 90s single 'Baby Come Back' a paean to lost love, heartbreak and betrayal, the very moderately talented rapping reggae star urges his baby, Liza, to 'come back'. She has, it seems, left him because "He must admit he was a clown, to be messin' around, but that doesn't mean, that she 'ave to leave town."

Similarly, however, in the 90s remix of 'No No No - You Don't Love Me' by Dawn Penn - an annoying man keeps rapping 'Tell the People, Tell the People' at the end of each line, over and over until the listener's head bleeds. But what is the connection between the two? Well, in point of fact, there isn't one - but it's SO annoying we felt we had to mention it.

But will Liza ever heed Pato's impassioned cries and 'come back'? Sadly, we think not. But why?

Fact 1: Banton fully admits he is, or was at some point, a clown. Surely that indicates he is peripatetic and, therefore, forever 'aving to leave town himself?

Fact 2: Clowns tend to live in tents and spend much of their time in them. It will be hard for Liza, as a modern woman, to reconcile herself and possible offspring to a life under canvas.

Fact 3: It is well known that clowns (but nobody else) find it extremely amusing to participate willingly in a lifestyle that involves throwing buckets of water, hitting each other with heavy wooden planks around the head, indulging in pratfalls and possessing noses that flash red intermittently along with spinning bow ties. If Liza is not herself a clown, and we have no evidence to suggest she is, she would find such behaviour tiresome in the extreme and would soon be leaving town with or without the heartfelt pleas of Pato and his troop of mirthmakers.

If these truths are not damning enough, we can find further clues in subsequent lines as to why Liza left. Admissions, if you will, of a very poor grasp of the social norms by the happy-go-lucky rapper.

1. Bragging about owning a 'Colour TV' will have little effect on a woman such as Liza. Most people these days have one and, even if not, they are easy to procure from 'Radio Rentals'.
2. Similarly we imagine, that in the age of downloads and MP3 players, she will not be swayed in the slightest by his fantastic collection of Bob Marley CDs. These will not even offer her very any protection against his exploding cars and giant bumper shoes.
3. His bag of sensi will very probably ultimately result in some sort of detention at Her Majesty's pleasure, something Liza will have factored in when considering Pato's potential as a father and provider. Just ask Smiley Culture.
4. Even when begging on knees, the average clown is likely to look ridiculous and not inspire anything approaching sympathy.

Therefore, whilst we feel sorry for Pato Banton and his cheeky chappy persona, we feel we must applaud Liza for her common sense in leaving the irksome prat.

By the time you read this, Pato, she and the man with the removal van will be long gone to a happier and more secure future. And she heard that crap record you did with Sting, too.

Drunken Vinyls: The Future

And So...The End is Near...

Now that we've reached the end of our lager fueled odyssey, you are most probably sitting at home, biting your nails, picking your anxiety warts and worrying about the abyss of boredom even now opening up before you on a Friday evening. But NEVER FEAR! We have, here at DeeVee towers have anticipated your chagrin and encroaching ennui and have been working as never before to provide a new, even more exciting, groundbreaking experience!!

We are extremely proud and happy to announce the PILOT of what we hope will be a superlative, awesome and, let's not deny it, educational voyage for YOU our READERS as we attempt to review all the books ever written, from A - Z whilst drinking a can of lager at the conclusion of each chapter!!

YES! THAT'S RIGHT! WE GIVE YOU:

DRUNKEN NOVELS

Z

Z FOR ZACHARIAH
by Robert C O'Brien

(1974)

About The Author: Rupert C'O Prune once had a hit with 'The Pina Colada Song' in 1978. It was a misogynistic tale of a man who was bored with his wive and answered an advertisement in a 'Personal' column in a newspaper. Confused? Well we have the same thing nowadays on the INTERNET. It is called 'E-Lovingharmony.Com' and it's basically an excuse for a quick and easy shag with no come backs providing one of you lays out the cash for a steak meal with onion rings, chips and peas and a bottle of vinegary wine. The sting in this particular tale was that Rupert went for a hot date only to find it was his bloody wife. He nearly stabbed himself with the steak knife.

Disheartened by the whole, sordid experience, Rupert turned his not inconsiderable talents to writing about the last man in the world, the titular 'Zachariah'

Essential Background Information: The novel fits into the popular sub genre 'post nuclear apocalypse dopey teenage romantic girl with a dog crossover' due to it being written in the 1970s when nuclear holocaust was all the rage. It is set in a valley which survives Armageddon because it has its own weather. Huh? How does that work?

Know Your Characters: 

• Miss Ann Burden, a sixteen year old teenager. A. Burden. No hidden message there, then.
• Mr Loomis, a mad scientist with a magic suit wandering around with a trolley in the nuclear wilderness in search of a toilet he deeply misses - LOOK people, it's in the name - Loo-mis. It's called SYMBOLISM.
• Faro, a manky dog - possible a labrador, possibly a shiatsu, it does not specify and it dies by jumping into a radioactive river. There's intelligence for you.
• Zachariah, all seeing, all knowing - an omniscient presence who does little or nothing, really, in fact we're buggered if we can find him mentioned at all. But you'll be the first to know when he appears in his mighty hooded cape and orange trousers in a puff of computer generated smoke! 

All Set? Well Tip Up Your Can and OFF WE GO!!!

Chapter 1: Ann Burden goes on and on about her valley in her diary. What valley is this then? Sounds a bit...rude. She's a dull sort. Very dull. No mention of which pop group she follows - is she a Belieber? We never find out. No wonder all her family buggered off into town in their jalopy to certain death. Every so often it appears she goes for a surreptitious distant smoke which is bang out of order anyway due to the health risks involved.

No sign of Zachariah - probably gone for a round of golf in the wasteland with his super mate Zebedee from The Magic Roundabout.

Chapter 2: Ann Burden keeps going for a distant smoke but it appears that every time she 'sparks up' it's closer to where she lives. She now decides to let some chickens into her garden. Is this a *paltry* act? Paltry act - it's the way we tell them. Chuckle. Ann wants to live in a cave. Or a church. Why not a cave that IS a church? Now that would be good. She'd have to *alter* her plans. LOL.

Zachariah absent - probably sulking after a romantic disappointment in Woking and seeking solace in a Rum Baba.

Chapter 3:  Ann Burden is in a cave smoking fags when some bloke turns up. The reader later finds out he is Loomis but he remains a shadowy presence at this point in the narrative. He puts up his tent then jumps in a river. Unfortunately for him, this river turns out to be poisoned with deadly nightshade dropped in there by the Deadly Sensorites from Sense Sphere which is a bit unexpected but they're hovering over the planet in their Saucers with Death Rays even now pointed at the tent! In her cave, Ann, somewhat heartlessly, realises she has run out of fags and nips off to the shop for 20 Bensons and a box of Swan Vestas.

Zachariah is a no show. He's probably at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival enjoying a stand up performance by Frank Skinner.

Chapter 4: Ann Burden ponders the future of humankind as she lights up a Benson and gazes on the nuclear devastation all around her. Is she the last living soul? Has she heard of Damon Albarn's cartoon group The Gorillaz? What about the kids with guns? She, at last, has a startling thought and moves to action. She shall be the mother to the new human race! She and Loomis! She races to the poisoned river and commands dog Faro to leap in and save him! Aghast, she watches as the dog sinks it's teeth into Loomis' decaying corpse, rolls over in the water and, with a startled whimper, dies. The two wretched corpses spontaneously explode - or do they? Ann Burden gazes above her head as a gigantic flying saucer descends from the heavens and hovers ominously, threateningly, defying all gravity!

Above Ann, a hatch slowly and sonorously grinds open, metal on metal, with a cacophonous thunder. From within the now gaping chasm above, a megaphone on a piece of string flops out to within six inches of Ann's cocked ear:

"WE ARE THE DEADLY SENSORITES OF SENSE SPHERE! WE HEREBY CLAIM THIS PLANET! GLORY TO OUR LEADER! DEATH TO HUMANITY!"

Needless to say, our heroine keels over and falls limply to the ground.

But what of Zachariah? Will he save humanity from certain death with his magic stick? Nope. He's off to Poundstretchers on Hitchin High Street to pick up a four pack of Crunchies.

NEXT WEEK ON DRUNKEN NOVELS!

B for Bean

It's Thrills and Spills a-Plenty!

Comedy buffoon Mr BEAN pratfalls around in a radioactive fallout shelter and attempts to eat some raw mince!!!!

Bet you can't wait!

But now...let's CUT TO THE CHASE...as we present:

Z

ZZ TOP: ELIMINATOR
(1983)

Z Z Top - What YOU need to know:

Probably the coolest heavy rock band in HISTORY, Z Z Top (pronounced ZeeZee and not Zed Zed Top) were, strangely, best known for their appearance in Science Fiction MOVIES and TV Shows as opposed to their actual music which was dubbed 'nondescript and bland' by critics of the day. With their long beards and fancy 'duds', they were in constant demand to play either cheap to produce alien monsters (Buck Rogers in the 25th Century) or omnipotent warlock beasts in shows and films too numerous to list. 

One notable appearance, however, was in Star Trek: The Next Generation 'The BeardMeisters of Megas-Tu' which featured ZZ Top as malevolent but mischievous warlocks hell bent on spiriting away the USS Enterprise to 'Wrigley's Pleasure Planet' where they would deliver a spontaneous show of their greatest hits which included 'Legs', 'Gimme All Your Loving' and 'TV Dinners' to the indigenous population of harmless amphibian frog people.

As you might imagine, Jean-Luc Picard was less than pleased because, as he succinctly put it to Commander Riker, it would 'violate the prime directive'. Lt Cdr Worf was somewhat less diplomatic. He called them 'Bearded Bastards that ruin our TV Series in order to Cash In by playing their SHITE records'. This line has caused controversy ever since because it was thought to 'break the fourth wall'.

The more observant amongst you might notice that one member of ZZ Top is an 'odd man out'. Can you see who? Yes that's right, the middle one. He is not stupidly hirsute in appearance or wearing pathetic clothes. This is because he is a 'serious musician' who wishes to be 'respected by his peers'. Not much chance of that, we think. An exercise in futility when placed next to those two prats.

Well here we go. One last spin. One last listen and then...in the words of Jeff Lynne: "It's over, it's over, it's oh-oh-ver, it's all over..." Strange. we're going to miss all this. Awww.

Side One

1. Gimme All Your Lovin 

Momma! Momma! Help! For a minute it wasn't working then we realised the mixer wasn't switched on. Schoolboy error. Crack a tube and off we go. 

Sharp snare drum and a glissando sliding down the slippery erect-neck of the guitar. Cool riff based rock. Yowsah! "Gimme all your loving, all your hugs and kisses too." Hugs and kisses. How rock n roll is that? Urgh. Oh well this rocks along nicely if you ignore the lyrics and it brings back memories of the dance-hall in Portsmouth, The Ritzy, where we would attempt to stick tongues down the ears of young ladies - or gentlemen - as a foolproof seduction technique. Fades out into drums and diminishing guitar licks

Good opening track. A recommended rocker that makes for easy jiving or play along too with your air-bass guitar. Nice.

2. Got Me Under Pressure

It is clear that Freddy Mercury was hanging around the recording studios with a tape deck for this little number. He must have whipped round to 6 Whipsnade Gardens (David Bowie's home at the time) and said, 'Hey, Dave, listen to THIS!' This is more up tempo with snarling guitars but the same foursquare beat and horizontal melody. Some nice work on the tom toms. It motors along quite nicely and tells the story of a high class girl who likes all the good things in life; consequently our her feels under pressure. Maybe he should ditch her for somebody who prefers 'TV Dinners'.

3. Sharp Dressed Man  

We can only assume that this song refers to somebody other than those in the group themselves. Slower tempo. The band now lists all the things they DON'T wear, like a clean suit and a pressed shirt. Another rocker. The guitar seems to provide an ironic commentary on the subject matter and the break plays for ever. It's got 'hit single' all over it.

4. I Need You Tonight  

A song so good that INXS pinched the title for their single 'Need You Tonight' dropping the 'I' to avoid litigation. Starts with high pitched guitar solo and the bass chugs along nicely in a call and response fashion before we settle into a cracking groove. NOW - this is more like it, we're in David Coverdale territory here - the melody is nicely downbeat. He's aching for HER, he needs HER tonight, he's burning - and we all know what this feels like. Most authentic track so far, form echoes function. Good stuff - we feel better already. As the solo winds a slow and never ending path to her window, we, the listener, wonder if ZZ Top ever get nits. Nits in their hair, beard or eyebrows. That would be irksome.

5. I Got the Six 

Amusingly, the group only use HALF the first line of the chorus to title this tune. It would have been cumbersome to include the complete '...eggs we need to make the omelette for us tea we saw on Jamie Oliver's 'Cook In' last night. Appropriately, our boys 'whip' it up and provide a solid back 'beat'. Chuckle. Fast paced rocker with staccato vocals, the beat here is slightly different, intermittent on the 'I got the Six' vocal until it settles into the groove beloved by the band. Nice stuff.

Side Two

6. Legs 

The video for this song involves a girl with good legs. We can't imagine why. She gets bullied by everybody around her until a 'sharp dressed man' gives her some cake and they drive off in the red car from the LP sleeve. See? If you didn't have the sleeve, then you wouldn't realise the significance of that red car. What you notice here is that 80s synthesizer sound though. This whips along! Bet this filled the floor in Castaways Disco, lots of dancing around the handbags and side-together dance steps - the more adventurous would alternate with the arms in that jerky 'Legs and Co' hitchhiking motion. Best track so far! we love it!

Tongue in the ear, though, wonder if the youth of today still DO that? Revolting practice. Gawd knows what you'd find down there. One of us did it recently to an unsuspecting lady of the mature persuasion and was roundly slapped.

7. Thug

A song dedicated to followers of Wolverhampton Wanderers presumably. Oh - a warbling 'Kraftwerkian' synthesizer introduction. Well, our lives! Adventurous stuff from the bearded ones. The bass(?) stutters in a stacatto and there's a vaguely South American bosa-nova groove thang going on here - we THINK it's a commentary on drugs and gangsters but difficult to be certain. Tell you what, though, a very nice contrast to previous tracks.

8. TV Dinners

Cultural primer: A TV dinner was, if you didn't know, a foil wrapped meal you placed in the oven to heat up and consume with minimum effort. This 80s phenomenon was beloved of television watching Americans. It consisted of beef jerky, a boiled potato and  some cabbage smothered in thick Texan Smokey barbecue sauce. The nutritional value of TV dinners was theoretical at best and they have now been prohibited and been replaced by 'Ready Meals'. Similarly as down tempo as the last track but more traditional rock fare going on here, with triple guitar chords reminiscent of a warning siren, as the vocalist sings of eating too much junk food and feeling slightly sick. He starts the song by liking the meals, they're bonza, but as the song unfolds they start to have detrimental effects: go to the head, can't get out of bed, feeling rough, we can only assume he eventually dies. A song ahead of its time!

9. Dirty Dog 

Nothing worse than the smell of your dog after it's been swimming and cleaned itself by rolling over and over in a field strewn with cow-pats. Up tempo, misogynistic rocker. Wouldn't be allowed these days. Amusing barking effects played on guitar. Who let the dogs out?

10. If I Could Only Flag Her Down

A great boogie-woogie chugathon as patented by the mighty Status Quo - could have come straight off 'Blue For You', could this. Put your hands in your belt loops and get banging those heads, people.

11. Bad Girl  

Nothing worse than the smell of your girl after she's been swimming and cleaned herself by rolling over and over in a field strewn with cow-pats. Actually it would make more SENSE if the adjectives of these two track titles had been switched. Then we would have 'Bad Dog' and 'Dirty Girl'- much more commonplace and sensible, you'll agree. We're going to finish with a foot stomper, then, those chords are an alarm to party. The vocals are screamed out and reverbed in best Black Sabbath tradition; crack open your lager and get down, get with it!

Verdict: An excellent pop/rock album, with a few pleasant surprises in terms of tempo changes and instrumentation, this well worth tracking down in your local Charity Shop and slapping on the turntable - you won't be disappointed.

So What Have We Learnt Over The Last Two Years?

Well, dear readers, nothing about music. Well except it DO sound better on the old vinyls! But here are ten life lessons we can leave you with. You can draw your own conclusions.

1. Sadly, Jimmy Saville was anything but a good guy. 
2. Britain will always be in depression or depressed about an impending depression.
3. Rioting children did not show the rich people that 'they can do what they want'. They nicked some designer footwear and legged it. Similarly, Hip Hop Artist named Reveal did not shed any light whatsoever on their motivation or grievances because they were a bunch of opportunistic freeloaders. Hip Hop Artist named Reveal was never invited back to Newsnight. Or indeed any night by anyone.
4. Against all the odds, Andy Murray turned out to be the greatest sporting hero of recent times.
5. If there is an announcement that some new road, railway track or factory is to be built, an unwelcome bunch of middle class Starbucks swillers will turn up and camp, leaving dirty toilet paper behind when they get bored and leave.
6. 462 Ocean Boulevard has never been an abode of Eric Clapton and is not next door to 461. This was a malicious lie.
7. Haircut 100 will never reform for a farewell tour thanks to an embittered Nick Heyward. Get over it, Nick!
8. 'Dubbin' is difficult to come by, indeed we have never seen it stocked in our local Tesco.
9. Carlos Tevez spent the last two years sulking at Manchester City FC and has now gone. We wonder if they regretted that poster saying 'Welcome to Manchester'?
10. Bruce Forsyth! What a guy! Still presenting Strictly Come Dancing!

Nice to have seen you; to have seen you...NICE!

Y is for YES: THE YES ALBUM (1970)

Y

YES: THE YES ALBUM

(1970)

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 cheap tasteless lager or its alcohol equivalent per song
3. Thou shalt record drunken 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 or I- Plank user to live and thou shalt laugh in their general direction whilst they attempt to look important on public transport.
6. Thou shalt not SWEAR because of an unseemly absence between posts due to an exploding computer that held all your templates of favourite characters and running jokes. 'Fuck off Rear Admiral Logjammer, or whatever you were called, you can never return because the whole of bloody Drunken Vinyls was on that shite computer what exploded' is an example of the offensive material that must not be posted. Thou shalt INVENT even BETTER characters and running jokes instead. Boo hoo hoo.
7. There is no seventh commandment.
8. 8 - 10 have gone AWOL as well. You see how forgiving we are?

Rambling Introduction: An Apology

We've become very annoyed with you all recently. How come nobody every tweets 'Cheers DeeVee, good entry this week' hmmm? We'll tell you why, it's because WE don't have those followers who toady up to each other by giving themselves mutual backslaps like they do on the football or summer fashion bra blogs, that's why. Actually we don't have many followers at all, if the truth be told. Well you all better better start following soon, dudes, because - like hey - this is the penultimate entry!

Cultural Comment for the Hard of Learning:

Toadying Up is a phrase long passed into the historical lexicon that referred to: Being sycophantic, to curry favour, to garner votes, to promote each other, to lick the boots of, to feel up one anothers backside, to tickle each other's fancy, to offer a kind word in order for another to be reciprocated, to slap backs, to admire penile longitude, to flatter, to deflect deprecation, to offer an affectation of praise, to mutually slap the backs of,  to insert a codpiece, to augment one's breasts in order to receive the admiring glances of,  to wear a wonderbra,  to offer moderate figure control with comfort, to lift and separate, to wear a cross your heart elasticated support accoutrement that enhances beauty of...and so forth. Must stop thinking about bras. Bras are bad. Bad bad bras.

Anyhow - Since we last wrote, the world has not stopped turning and many many momentous things have happened. Such as:

• Mrs Thatcher died.
• Andy Murray won Wimbledon.
• Matt Smith left Doctor Who to be replaced by some croaky old geezer called Peter Curmudgeonly or Capaldi or something. 
• Those boffins from Science have been at it again - they've invented a beefburger which can be grown in a laboratory that costs £200,000. It tastes like crap, apparently, so it'll go down well with all consumers of convenient meat style patties. But why bother? We know places where you can buy exactly the same product for three pounds fifty and they throw in some crunchy fries and fizzy pop to boot.
• The bastards from Camp Poo outside St Paul's Cathedral have decloaked and decamped and taken residence in a quiet Sussex village to prevent the extraction of oil and gas by a process called Fracking, Frugging, or Frucking - we're not sure which because we couldn't be bothered to find out why. Anything involving those bastards fills us with supreme indifference. If we have a shortage of gas in this sceptered isle then we suggest that those companies involved in such things direct their antennae and pumps in the protesters general direction from which copious amounts of free gas of the oral and anal kind is always readily available. They'd better hurry though. Once the 'protesters' or 'idle rich layabout tossers' as they are more properly dubbed by those in the know find out that the village does not boast a 'Starbucks' or 'Costa Coffee' outlet, they'll soon be gone, squawking and defecating their way back to London.
• Some new bras came on the market. Probably.

Why have we been away so long? Well, as you might probably have guessed, the computer exploded with all our work on it - like an unreleased Rolling Stones LP, all was lost...lost. A whole entry, so it was back to the drawing board for this, our latest musings about YES. The YES Album - not an inspiring title for an LP, yet it singlehandedly represents and holds up the letter Y. There's a paucity of choice for Z, too, before you ask. Which may account for the tetchy tone - our American readers might accuse us of being 'snippy'. Snippy - stupid word, that.

Oh leave me alone, I'm a family man, and my bark is much worse than my bite.

Exploding Computer: An Apology

As we hinted at earlier, the computer exploded destroying all the templates of our popular characters which included Admiral Shitstorm, Noah's Seafaring Stories and Dik and Dom in Da Maisonette. Shame.

No we didn't make a copy before you ask. Yes, we are cretins.

As we couldn't be arsed to recreate them, this month we present, in the style of those comics beloved in our youth, a SELECTION of new cartoon strips! All you have to do is VOTE for the one you'd like to see back NEXT WEEK!

Cultural Comment for the Slow of Study:

Comics were weekly periodicals printed on very cheap paper purchased from your local purveyor of confectionery. Popular titles included: Beano, Dandy, Topper, Beezer, Bunty, Mandy, Jackie, Whizzer and Chips, Titbits, Spick and Span, Red Bot Weekly, Hot Bot, Bottoms Up, Tight Elastic Panties, Knicker Nicker, Razzle, Dazzle, Club International, Penthouse, My Weekly Jazzmag, Melons, Whoppers, Bra International, Bra Busters, Bras for Chicks, Bloke Bras, Me and My Bra, Bra Hoarder Monthly, Near and Bra, Bra Bra Away, Beyond the Farthest Bra, Bra Spotter...Damn,damn, damn....

Reach for your defibrillator, you just might just might DIE LAUGHING, as we present:

The Death of Mrs Thatcher: An Apology

Unfortunately we were not on hand to comment on the death of the greatest leader the Western World has ever know in recent times. However we were dismayed to notice that some people thought it would be a jolly jape to get 'Ding Dong the Witch is Dead' to Number 1 to commemorate this passing. Despite our disappointment at this mutinous action, we nevertheless doubt that Mrs Thatcher would have been bothered in the slightest. She most probably would have commented that 'The Lady's not for burning.'

However it would be remiss of us not to mark the passing of this cultural icon in some way. Mrs Thatcher is often said to be the greatest global leader of the 1980s, the greatest Thatcher ever. But was she? We polled our readers to find out and HERE is a summation of the findings.

The Continuing British Recession: An Apology

It cannot have escaped keen readers of this Blog that for the ENTIRETY of its existence, Britain has been in bloody recession. But what does that mean to the common man (or woman)? Well, not much it seems.

Unless you consider that grinding, nut-crushing poverty; an inability to buy essentials such as mince not made from horsemeat; the proliferation of Poundland Stores on every corner replacing familiar and reassuring shop frontages from our childhoods; being forced out of rented accommodation for having one bedroom too many; wages falling and everything else going up, record fuel prices and, of course, unemployment, unemployment and unemployment is worth grumbling about.

We didn't vote for the buggers but nevertheless we feel we should offer some sort of abject apology for the miserable Britain of the last three years because the current incumbents of Downing Street aren't bloody well going too. They tell us things are getting better. Then other experts come on and tell us that if you live by the seaside, particularly in Rhyl, Wales, you've never had it so bad because you're probably an unemployed layabout on disability benefit. Who knows what to believe?

We believe in SOLUTIONS not PROBLEMS. and so...as part of our occasional 'Cash Strapped Britain' series that bought you 'Be Your Own Comedian' and 'Build Your Own Motorway Service Stations' our experts show how YOU can TROUSER THOSE POUNDS with next to NO EFFORT!!

Make easy money and coin in the cash as we show YOU how to:

BE YOUR OWN GRAND-SLAM TOURNAMENT TENNIS PRO!

Note: We feel it our duty to point out that we very politely wrote to Wimbledon Football Club to ask National Tennis hero and Grand Slam champion Andy Murphy to help us with advice for this feature but, to our dismay, our postcard was returned with 'Wrong Address' franked across it. We feel this is an all too characteristic slight by the dour Scotsman against all unemployed layabouts on disability benefits living in Rhyl. What a spoil sport.

Did YOU know that you can earn a tidy wallet bursting £32,000 for simply turning up and being defeated by Rafia Mat, Roger Fenderer or even such tennis no-marks like David Ferrero-Rocher? No? Well to our minds that's EASY MONEY!!

But wait! You don't know HOW to play tennis? Well don't panic, just follow these easy steps for the fast bucks and sticky greens! Check out of that Rhyl bed and breakfast NOW and catch the TENNIS EXPRESS to FAT CITY!

Step One: You need to acquire the correct KIT or ACCOUTREMENTS as Tennis Pros are wont to call it.

This includes a tennis racket. Do NOT make the schoolboy error or ever calling this a tennis BAT or tennis CLUB or the tennis police will be on to you immediately. Furthermore, never think one of those plastic 'tennis kits' from Poundland with the colored plastic balls will pass muster. These will be quickly spotted and you'll be sent packing off court and back to Rhyl with a boot up your backside.

Tennis rackets can be notoriously expensive but if you have read carefully our pieces 'Cash Strapped Britain: Be Your Own Fisherman' or 'Cash Strapped Britain: Take on Monty Panesar and WIN!' you should be quickly able to fashion a nifty piece of kit with a big stick, and old shoe and some sticky backed plastic. Just follow the simple illustration below and you'll soon be on CENTRE COURT!

Step Two: You will need to learn some French. Normally if you were asked to do this your (correct) response would be to jab your finger at the offending Frenchman and shout: 'URGH!! Sod off!! I live in Britain, and speak the single most popular language in the world! Why should I bother? You will expect me to eat garlic and snail sandwiches next and enjoy the taste of horsemeat! Get on yer bicyclette!'

However on this occasion we fear you will need to study (bad) the French language (worse). Why? Because inexplicably, a lot of the announcements on Centre Court will be in French. Never fear. Here are some quick and easy phrases to learn and use should you find yourself at Roland Garros or some other crap dump near Paris:

Learn these phrases and shout them extremely loudly at your opponent or the line judge every time you miss a serve or fail to return a ball and you are well on the way!

Step Three: The rules of the game. Well, we cannot pretend to be experts, but basically, as far as we can tell, you swank onto centre court to rapturous applause with a large bag full of some towels, balls and rackets (well in your case a stick with a shoe sellotaped to it in an Aldi carrier bag), stand in front of a giant net whilst a fat bloke on a chair shouts nonsense phrases at you and you dodge about extremely quickly waving your stick in the air frantically at fast moving yellow projectiles.

There are some things in the game called 'shots' but be advised they are not the ones you usually buy down 'Castaways Disco and Night Club'. Also, if the shouty fat guy asks you to 'serve' he is not referring to pulling a pint or getting your winky out.

Notes for the New Player

• Try to avoid being hit by those yellow balls in the gonads as we have seen this happen on the telly and it looks extremely painful.
• Be very careful. If you wave your stick too vigorously there's the possibility the shoe might come off the end and hit the shouty fat bloke on the chair in his face. This will be frowned upon.
• During the game, if you suspect foul play or a bad 'call' you can shout 'Hawkeye'. At this point the game will be suspended, the crowd will clap slowly and you can scratch your arse. You will see yourself on the big telly, too!
• If somebody shouts 'New Balls Please!' it is considered bad form to snigger.
• Only wear a 'sports bra' if you are a girl. Or you are kinky and like the feel of tight bra elastic against your back..
• In the unlikely event you win, you are allowed to chuck your sweaty and disgusting headgear, wristlets and underpants into the crowd, where they will be eagerly fought over and shredded.

After about twenty minutes, the game will be over; you will have lost BUT you'll be stuffing £32,000 into your back pocket. Never mind your pay day loans, that's what we call WONGA!

Y

YES: THE YES ALBUM

(1970)

And now we get down to the veritable meat and potatoes of this endeavour. Our RECORD REVIEW! Yes, fans, (Yes fans? That's an oxymoron, surely.) this is where we all set up our turntables, get out our 33s and get pissed whilst listening to sweet, sweet music. And today's record is: YES: THE YES ALBUM.

YES: An Apology

We would like to apologise unreservedly for tonight's vinyl offering. We can only excuse ourselves by pointing out that very few bands begin with the letter Y; we hate Paul Young and Yazoo. We would like to say 'let the drinking begin!', but as each track lasts a mammoth 24 minutes (probably) there will be very little drinking tonight. Let us console ourselves with the thought that at least, at one can a track, we will be a very  cheap date.

YES must be the most ironically misnamed band in the history of Rock n Roll. Why? Because WHENEVER somebody suggests putting on an LP by YES, the inevitable response is NO!!!!

Don't believe us? Well, when were you last at a happening party and a crazy, kooky chick like the one out of NCIS said, 'Hey guys! Let's rock out to 'Tales of Topographic Oceans' by YES! Get down! Whoop Whoop!'

You are correct. This never happens. Well except for at Star Trek conventions, but those dudes are just crazy! YES is about as far away from Hip Hop as it is POSSIBLE to get. Which is by no means a bad thing given that Hip Hop is equally as poor.

But who were YES? Where did they come from?

Rick Wakeman: A weedy keyboard player that liked to dress up as King Arthur sporting a wizard's hat and cape and perform organ solos on a roller skating pantomime horse.
Jon Anderson: A falsetto voiced long haired weirdo who sucked helium from ballooons prior to going on stage in order to improve his vocals
Chris Squire: A bass player who was not actually a squire, or in any way noble, and who detested the greeting 'Hello, Squire!' with a passion.
Bill Bruford: A percussionist and drummer who was not, or never had been a request for payment in disguise and would violently punch anybody who asked 'where the bill was'.
Steve Howe: A general weed of the highest order who was so much a weed he was turned down for the part of 'Little weed' in television's 'Bill and Ben'. He was bullied at school for desiring to be a presenter of children's television magazine show 'How!' and he later squeaked, 'I thought it would be a jolly wheeze to have someone NAMED Howe presenting 'How'!' shortly before being (rightly) duffed up by the school bully.

Over the years there were various other drips who wanted to be in the group. At one time, pop duo Buggles joined but, having lost complete musical credibility and their fanbase in this one fatal error, scurried away to devise pop masterwork 'Video Killed the Radio Star'. It was a narrow escape.

YES are notorious for song suites that last entire album sides and incomprehensible gibberish that masquerade as profound lyrics. As we shall no doubt discover. Be afraid. Be very afraid - as we present:

Y

YES: THE YES ALBUM
(1970)

Side One

1. "Yours Is No Disgrace"
So... it is with a due sense of trepidation that we grab the vodka and put the needle on. Here goes. We will try to describe and critique this aural adventure.

A rising scale played on synthesisers and the vocal begins: 'You don't know how to ease my pain, you don't know...' pretty damn good actually. Ah. Wrong record. Start again.

No... it actually starts with close tracked drums and guitar with some strange time signature. 'Tum Ti Tum Tum, Tum Ti Tum Tum, Tum Ti Tum Tum'. Then the whole band join in on the crash of a cymbal. Reminds us irresistibly of an elephant attempting the fandango and failing miserably. Suddenly - a hush descends...

Ah. Weedy Jon Anderson, spouting gibberish about a 'silly human race'. What about the Olympic Spirit, Jon? Wait!! There's more, come closer. 'Battle ships confide in me, and tell me where you are...' What? What's that supposed to mean? Complete bollocks. What's more, everytime the drip says this crap, the band go into some kind of triumphantic orgasmic crescendo as though this is a creed for future happiness. It's very repetitive, the elephant dance bit is back: 'Tum Ti Tum Tum. Tum Ti Tum Tum'.

We're now inside some sort of instrumental musical vortex where the musicians are noodling away on Moog synthesisers without any sort of direction. Every musician gets a spot to display his virtuosity. Meanwhile the audience yawn and scratch their arses.

New passage - signified by a suspended hymnal chord from the wizard of wit himself Rick Wakeman - did you read about that Henry VIII concert with ice skating horses and knights? Wittering on about 'silly human races' again and 'on a sailing ship to nowhere, leaving any place, the summer change to winter, yours is no disgrace'. Not only is that nonsense, tit doesn't even scan. When is this going to end?

It just has with a kind of 'Star Trek' hyperspace noise. Punch it.

2. "Clap"
A paean to venereal disease, 'Clap' offers sympathy and understanding to sailors and all of love's thrusting penile pioneers who, through no fault of their own, come experience that unpleasant discharge and general feeling of embarrassment when faced with a visit to the doctor. And who hasn't experienced that hot flush from the neck down the back as the doctor utters the immortal words: 'well, just pop it out, will you?'

Ah - we've completely missed the point. Again. No surprise, really,  this being a YES LP.

This is a bit like Simon and Garfunkel except without Simon. Or Garfunkel. Or any words whatsoever.

Basically it's a bonkers bloke on a guitar a bit like the ones outside W.H. Smiths with a hat in front of them. Completely tuneless and pointless, inoffensive, it comes on. It lasts a bit. Then it finishes.

Somebody claps at the end. I wonder why?

3. "Starship Trooper"
I. "Life Seeker"
II. "Disillusion"
III. "Würm"

Yes! We remember dancing to this one! 'I lost my heart to a starship trooper!' Cracking tune! AND who doesn't remember Kenny Everett and Hot Gossip's pelvic gyrations and chest thrusting antics without a salacious smile upon the face? Happy days.

Ah. Wrong tune again.

The hyperspace noise is back and then the band offer some tuneless cacophony which seems to be trying to drown out weedy Jon's vocals. But, alas, we, the listeners still have to suffer the gormless words; 'speak to me of summer that travels on the waves that I still remember.'

New movement signified by the band pissing off for a coffee while Steve Howe noodles away on an accoustic with Anderson wittering on tunelessly, blithely ignorant of the fact that the audience has long since disappeared down the same coffee shop only to find that, irritatingly, that Rick, Bill and them blokes from Buggles are in front of them taking endless time to choose from the menu of caffeine delights, knowing full well that it will be at least 25 minutes before they have to be back to play on the next bit. Trevor Horn most probably postulates that 'Video Killed the Radio Star' will make for a good encore, only to be punched by Rick, Bill and Chris.

Meanwhile, back at the song...we're in an extremely long and repetitive instrumental sequence, mercifully free of Anderson's lyrical munificence where a lead guitar and another lead guitar are trading licks on different channels. Then it just...fades away. And that's it.

Dear Lord.

Side Two 

4. "I've Seen All Good People"
I. "Your Move"
II. "All Good People"

They took the credit for your second symphony; re-written by machine and new technology...

But BACK in the coffee shop, where the indolent noodlers from YES are having an ill deserved break in the middle of their 32 minute opus 'Starship Trooper', a fist fight has broken out that is becoming increasingly ugly! Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes from Buggles, along with their mate, the bikini clad girl in the plastic tube, are even now angrily jabbing the weedy Chris Squire with wooden Costa Coffee stirrers, in the eyes! His eyes are beginning to water! If this continues he won't be able to pick up his bass!

'All good people'. We bet this will be a laugh riot. CHIZ! It sounds exactly the same as Side 1.

Wait. It is Side 1. Bugger. Where's the rum?

He's seen all good people turn there heads so glad he's on his way! Never a truer word spoken in song my friend. No hang on, objectively this is reasonable - a sort of acoustic tune. It does boast something approaching a melody with a rising, cheerful chord progression and the flute nicked from 'The Fool on the Hill'. Won't last, though. The flautist is probably synthesised anyway.

Get this -. We're rocking out now! Ahead groove factor nine! Seriously though, why have no HIP HOP artists live Reveal sampled any YES as backing tracks for 'songs'?

The instrumental is noodling on a bit too long and your attention is bound, therefore, to wander. If your attention wanders do you absently scratch the heads off scabs until they bleed? Or do you idly cast your mind back to remember the day you discovered, to your horror, that you did, in fact, have crabs? How, therefore, did you break this to your significant other? Did your partner buy your excuse that they were on the toilet seat?

We seem to be back in hymnal territory now, suspended chords, falsetto vocals, confusing mulch about 'Good People' which, through repetition, becomes as significant as the bra catalogue you would flick through to pass those teenage years, carefully husbanded from your mother's post.

Then it just fades out and is gone.

5. "A Venture"  

Yes! A Venture. a bit like an Adventure! This'll be great!

What have we here? A sort of two two plod. Jon Anderson keeps wailing 'Hide Away' every couple of seconds for some reason. There is bound to be some significance to this.

Oh. It's finished. Well that one didn't last long. Thankfully.

6. "Perpetual Change"

The rest of the band are back from Costa Coffee with two black eyes apiece, a broken arm and several mugs of Cappuccino. Well there's lovely. To thank them, Jon offers a peroration about them being all 'Inside Out and Outside In'. This is great. They pick up their instruments, chug along cheerfully and all is forgiven and forgotten. Even Buggles look cheerful, joining in with gusto, chomping on the free sugar cubes and using the wooden stirrers as guitar picks.

However, for the audience, the experience is a mixed one. There is a general despondent air as the band, oblivious to the fact that they are supposed to be in any way entertaining, noodle away pointlessly.

This song sounds like Jon Anderson is making it up as he goes along, actually. The band are clearly talented but what the f*ck are they playing? We are now getting a headache and if he says 'Inside Out, Ouside In' again, we will shove his bloody synthesiser exactly where he is suggesting.

This is the fag end of the alphabet - we're sure that if we played it a few more times we'd really start to enjoy the virtuosity, signature changes and sheer musicianship, but we'd rather nail our testicles to a barbed wire fence.

What have we learned tonight? An Apology.

To YES fans everywhere, we say:

YES???

NO!!!!

X is for X RAY SPEX - GERM FREE ADOLESCENTS (1978)

X

X RAY SPEX

GERM FREE

ADOLESCENTS

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
6. Thou shalt not pose stupid questions in song lyrics: Are you with me, Doctor Who? Are you really just a shadow of the man that I once knew? Are you crazy are you high? Or just an ordinary guy? Well, yes Steely Dan, you fuckwits, of course he isn‘t ‘An Ordinary Guy’ he’s a bloody TIMELORD. And a gentleman to boot!

First a WORD from our SPONSORS:

This week we are proud to be drinking:

PEARLA Whitening Mouthwash

We’re QUITE SURE it’s good for our teeth, if nothing else.

And at 64% less expensive than Listerine, what’s to complain?

Hello you, and welcome to X in our exhausting quest to bring you all known vinyls ever made or known to man and get pissed whilst reviewing them. How easy it would have been to download them straight to your brain via unspeakable devil technologies, but that would have been cheating, oh yes!

So every week we have been scouring Charity Shop bargain bins, getting out the Windolene to clean up the mouldy old vinyl and whacking them on the turntable for your delight. So whilst you set your own record players up and dig out your copy for a dust down, let’s while away the hour by reflecting on recent and momentous moments in British history.

Disgraced cycling star and alleged drug cheat Lance Armstrong was forced to change the title of his new autobiography, detailing his recent swimming career against ‘considerably older people’ from: ‘It’s Not about the Swimming Pool’ to ‘I’m Not Even Allowed IN the Swimming Pool’ when  officials complained about his participation. Justly and fairly, in our opinion.

Worthy but dull shitcast Comic Relief turned up YET again to clog up the airwaves for an evening like a nose congested with unwanted and unnecessary snot and raised some money. Highlights probably included Lenny Henry leering at the camera whilst making whooping noises, somebody’s trousers falling down and a comedy vicar saying ‘Oh, Pardon?’ a lot but we couldn’t swear to it because we went down the boozer to avoid it. To our dismay there were some amateur comedians there as well, rattling buckets, and behaving in a manner liable to cause offence to 99.9% of the public - until we threatened to nail their testicles to the toilet wall.

In a brilliant bid to cure the woes of all us living, nay existing, from hand to mouth, on all the scraps we can find, in ‘Cash Strapped Britain’ the Chancellor brings in a new tax designed to raise literally hundreds of pounds and cause merriment and fun by getting everybody to move house. In a nutshell this new BEDROOM TAX is not, as you might reasonably suppose, a levy on love making, no. Instead it makes it illegal to live in a house with ‘more bedrooms than people’ without paying £9.25 extra a year (or something). Therefore a family of three, let’s say, with four bedrooms must move immediately if they wish to avoid the BEDROOM BAILIFFS and their tooled up henchmen Wilf and Stan. But where do they move to? Well, it’s perfectly simple, they move to next door’s house which has three bedrooms but four occupants whilst they simultaneously move into yours – everybody gets a room! Not only that, it gives a massive boost to David Cameron’s ‘BIG SOCIETY’ because all and sundry in the street must help everybody else move into each other’s houses for free! Imagine the frolicks and fun! This is a plan of such breathtaking genius we here at Drunken Vinyls are surprised that nobody has thought it up before!  We also feel it should be applied in other areas and we are pleased to offer, free of charge, the following other tax ideas:

CUPBOARD OF BEAN TINS TAX: Everybody with extra capacity tins of beans must donate one tin of surplus beans to those with less beans in their cupboard in order to even out beans distribution or pay a surcharge of 49 pence per extra tin of beans husbanded.

POLYGAMY TO BIGAMY TAX: All those with two or more extra wives should move into one less wife forthwith and donate surplus wife to members of the community with less wives than they can comfortably accommodate or pay a taxable penalty of three sticky buns; those that the Chancellor is partial to for elevenses.

BANKERS ARE WANKERS TAX: All Bankers with more than two banks in their mansions must move another banker into their extra bank whilst simultaneously downsizing their bonus bank before passing go, claiming two hundred pounds, proceeding to jail and bankrupting the country by lending stupidly large amounts of money to build duck islands or to bankroll dodgy foreign regimes. Any banker failing to do so must forfeit a deposit of self produced seminal fluid which should be flushed straight into the Thames lest it is inadvertently used to produce more Bankers of the same ilk.

TOILET POO POO TAX: All those prone to three or more daily dumps in their two toilets must dump once in their neighbours’ solo toilet whilst inviting the neighbour to put one surplus poo poo on their front door step or be taxed by sending not less than, or equal to, one poo poo in a brown envelope to number 10 Downing Street. This to be addressed to ‘Those Rich Bastards at Number Ten’

Can You Hear Me, Doctor Who?

It cannot have escaped your notice, readers, that the Doctor is back on television.

Now we here at Drunken Vinyls disapprove of television in much the same way we disapprove of most of MODERN LIFE. For us, life was best experienced back in the 1970s, through a haze of Sobraine pipe smoke (no father, please don’t spank us!) with the crackling sound of the light programme on the radio, or wireless as we used to refer to it. For treats we expected no more than a quarter of an orange – a luxury in those days you understand. We had never heard of bananas or pizza, subsisting of a diet, as we did, of beef olives, pea and ham soup, tapioca and that salty ham with suspicious white sauce ladled over it. We were genuinely excited when the likes of chicken supreme and black forest gateau hove into view.

Like life today, television is best avoided. Whenever we pass on in a ‘Radio Rentals’ shop it is invariably showing Geordie prats in a jungle or in front of a sign proclaiming ‘Saturday Takeaway’; unemployed yipetty yoys shouting at each other about whether or not they’re the father and disputing the results of lie detector tests, or some effeminate scientists being Mr Spock. What’s wrong with the REAL Mr Spock, anyhow?

No, television is BEST AVOIDED, except, and here’s the thing, except when THE DOCTOR is on. We, here at Drunken Vinyls, have always been big fans of Doctor Who, so much so that before we invented DeeVees, we flirted with the idea of getting drunk to every episode of the good Doctor’s travels instead. But as some of them were in black and white we couldn’t be arsed.

Here’s The History

Doctor Who was invented by Verity Lambert in 1947 to replace the much loved comedian ‘Sykes’ and his sidekick ‘Korky’ an infuriating and unfunny policeman who ruined every episode by being in it.

Famously she came up with the idea of flying around in a cupboard when she was inadvertently locked in a cupboard herself! Whilst stumbling around, putting her feet in tin buckets, falling over mops and avoiding bleach (it was a cleaner’s cupboard) she decided that there wasn’t enough room to swing a cat. Thus it was she invented the less than loved character ‘Professor Clean’ and his sidekick, a robot cat called ‘Feel 9’ who would be useful in a scrape which involved mice or any other hordes of alien rodent invaders from Mars. Needless to say, the whole idea was scrapped almost immediately after the first episode, with literally dozens of letters of complaint sent to Barry Took on ‘Points of View’ generally bemoaning the waste of licence fee payers money and demanding ‘Reality’ shows involving members of the public in airports.

Undeterred by failure, Verity did not let the grass grow under her feet and pitched the idea for a ‘pilot’ (which was produced for the ‘Out of the Unknown’ science fiction anthology series) called ‘Practitioner Poo’ a down on his luck futuristic stool doctor from Dudley who examined excrement for a living inside a gigantic box, utilised to shield the stench from the rest of the medical practice. Unsurprisingly this was not taken to the nation’s heart either and was dubbed ‘shit’ which was accurate if a little unfair.

But the seeds were sewn and, with a little imagination the Practitioner became ‘Doctor’ and the gigantic box became the TARDIS. This time the show was a runaway success and history, as they say, was made.

We mention this with good reason. Once we discovered the Doctor was back, we didn’t wait! We immediately submitted loads of brilliant ideas for new stories in the hope that one would be picked up and produced:

• The Daleks invade Earth and plan to pilot it around the cosmos with a gigantic motor.
• Aliens produce a complete replica of Earth and transport all the peoples there, where they live without knowing this and steal the original Earth to drive it round the cosmos with a gigantic motor.
• The Doctor lands on the Moon and discovers some hostile aliens called ‘Moonians’ plotting to attach a gigantic motor to the Earth and pilot it around the cosmos for a bit until they get bored.
• The Doctor is on holiday but stumbles across ‘a gigantic motor factory’ which is secretly being run by hostile aliens who have a terrible plan!

To our disappointment, the bastards at the BBC sent all our great ideas back in an unpaid envelope and told us to sod off! But never fear. We now reproduce our Doctor Who story for you: ‘Doctor Who and The Infinity Rooms'. 

Steven Moffat, Eat Your Heart Out!

Unlike the television, Episode TWO follows Almost Immediately! Bet you can't wait!!

AND NOW! The exciting Denouement! DOCTOR WHO episode Three!

X

X RAY SPEX

GERM FREE

ADOLESCENTS

What’s the Story?

Tonight we are reviewing a bona fide punk rock classic album, warts and all, coming to it fresh from the perspective of the twenty first century. Three singles were lifted from the LP, the album artwork is instantly recognisable, we shall treat it with reverence and respect, so we shall.

Let’s imagine, for a minute, that we are all Doctor Who in his magical time machine called the TARDIS from television’s ‘Doctor Who’ (we wanted to write for the programme – but their loss is your…well you know. We’re not bitter). We step into our transport and are whisked into a meringue like frenzy, all stiff peaks and white froth, back, back to the exciting world of 1978 – a vintage year!

Let us gaze in wonder at the amazing sights we behold! It is universally grainy, dark and dingy with mountains of plastic dustbin sacks piled atop of rats and other fetid creatures because the bin men have been on strike all winter. On every corner small gangs of ill fed youths with spiked haircuts and safety pins through their cheeks gaze malevolently with the intensity of hungry cannibals, licking their lips and sharpening their forks and knives to eat their bacon.

Ignoring them, because we are a Time Lord, we rush straight for the nearest bin bag and tear it open with feverish hands. Disregarding the impulse to put it on – because bin-bag chic was fashionable then as opposed to bow ties and a fez – we seize the nearest Beezer, Dandy or Hornet and flick through the grubby pages. And, towards the back of the comic, there it is! The advertisement page! Not, as with these days, pages of 0898 hot numbers to telephone for a date, some sex with an old dear or dirty talk; no the adverts for jokes, pranks and exciting novelties. Soap that gives you a black eye! Pills that make you bigger than the playground bully! Sweets that render you unable to talk! Mr Snappy chewing gum that delivers a painful shock to the unwary chewer who tries to extract some! And – best of all – X Ray Spex.

Yes, wear these, and you can actually see through clothes! Bare bodies and everything Now which adolescent schoolboy didn’t secretly dream of being able to use a pair of these in class during French lessons? You can see, from the picture, the delight that owning a pair would bring and the admiration from friends and foes alike! Certainly, as Doctor Who, you would frown upon such an idea – because, in any case, you can most probably turn yourself invisible, but for the 1970s schoolboy these were the must-have fashion accessory of the day.

However, what have these ‘X Ray Spex’ to do with our album tonight? Well, dummbkopf, it’s only the name of the band, isn’t it? And our singer called herself Poly Styrene, which interestingly is what the spex in question arrived in should you order them.

A word of caution, however. One of us admits to owning a pair of ‘X Ray Spex’ and now tells us they were completely useless and didn’t actually work – in fact they were plastic with tissue paper lenses and were better suited to harmonising to tunes with like some mad, proto kazoo.

Let’s hope this isn’t a portent for tonight’s LP.

X

X RAY SPEX

GERM FREE

ADOLESCENTS

Side One

"Art-I-Ficial" - 3:24

Oh classic record, hit us with your bona fide. A little crackle there. A pop. A splutter. OH NO! What screaming banshee is this? Heaven forfend! We start out with a classic riff, heavy rocky thing. There isn't much of a TUNE in evidence. God knows what Poly Styrene is saying. We wonder if she toyed with some other names like Biccy Biro? Or Binny Bag? This isn't like your actual punk - it's a bit - erm - compressed - except for the maniac on the saxophone, parping away on the left channel. We think he might be trying to be some traffic. Still a good opener that you could, if you wish, pogo too. Time for some of that lovely mouthwash and track two, we're agog.

"Obsessed with You" - 2:30

The next track is called 'Obsessed with Glue' which was a terrible problem back in the 1970s with all those bin bags to stick on. It was about the time that 'Loctite SuperGlue' was invented, you see and there was this man stuck to a board dangled from a helicopter who was often flown across the Pacific Ocean for no good reason. No, there was. Oh well, have it your own way. But we heard tell that punk rockers would think it highly amusing to put loads of 'Loctite' on bus seats to stick unsuspecting passengers down, then retire, point and laugh every time the 22 to Maida Vale did another lap and Mrs Tremblington was still aboard, frantically trying to attract the attention of Blakey, the bus inspector. The track in question races along with choppy guitar that snarls whilst Ms Styrene screams rather nicely in time to it. Again it is impossible to decipher what she is screaming, but the saxophone is back, echoing the screams. Very good. We can imagine John Peel tapping his toe along to this one. Abrupt ending

"Warrior in Woolworths" - 3:06

This starts like the theme tune to 'Double Deckers' which was a popular show back then, featuring a gang of youths who lived on a Double Decker and got up to high jinks, usually involving a man in a gorilla costume, stealing pets or both - not, as you might suppose, the chocolate bar Double Decker, which had yet to be invented, but an actual bus. Or maybe it's the 'Banana Splits' we're remembering? Anyway this is brilliant sort of mid tempo pop. Woolworths, alluded to in the title, was a popular shop where you could, if you were a punk, go into and steal handfuls of 'Pick N Mix' beloved of Grandmas back then. Their slogan was 'More than You Bargained For at Woolworths' which was appropriate, really. This song does not mention stealing chocolates or sweeties but is about a girl warrior that goes into Woolworths a lot and then is a rebel on the Underground. In London. Great stuff, next please.

"Let's Submerge" - 3:26

Pot Noodles. They came out in the 1970s too. You had to submerge them in hot water for that great taste of artificial soup - they were like warm, soggy crisps, really. Crunching guitar riff, up tempo, screaming vocals, high pitched saxophone - you can hear the running bassline on this one doing a batman style - we like the little space, the pause before - well it sounds a bit like underground again. Smashing.

"I Can't Do Anything" - 2:58

This one is fabulous, Poly Styrene is articulating the blank generation here, the youth alienated from the culture of their parents. Mid tempo, snarling Johnny Rotten vocals as she raps that 'she bit back with her pet rat'. Very melodic, too with a middle section and everything. The highlight is the saxophone commenting on the vocals in a humourous way. We like this one plenty. So far this has been excellent!

"Identity" - 2:25

The mouth wash is going down well, dear hearts, we've never been fresher of breath. Maybe tonight we'll get some kissing action? This current track is viciously compressed again with the saxophone - again - the most noticeable instrument as well as the super super vocals. They don't write music like this any more. Is it because the youth of today have nothing left to rebel against? Or do they just use TWITTER now? In any case,  a frenetic pop song which finishes too quickly, leaving the listener hungry for more! Fortunately we have a whole other side! Olly Murs and One Direction, you are nowhere man!

Side two

"Genetic Engineering" - 2:49

After a while, the mouth wash experience starts to pale in terms of enjoyment. Shall we switch to rum? Well, it would be rude not to do so. Here we go. Genetic engineering referenced by the cover (where they are all in test tubes looking rather sexy). What is the deep comment here? That they are bred to conform? That they, the band, must remain free of corrupting influences? Or that it just looked cute? Anyway, we now recall that test tube babies were around at that time too. And 'Dolly the Sheep'. Whatever happened to 'Dolly the Sheep'? Now THAT would have been a good name for an Indie 'shoe gazing' band. When we form our band, we're jolly well going to call ourselves that, we can tell you. Now to the present track, our Side Two opener of this Punk Rock classic. Poly counts in using GERMAN, how naughty is that? We can't see the link, personally.Up tempo and thrashy with rhythm guitars ascending in a classic riff. Man, those fingers would be raw. Did she just sing 'create the perfect race'? Ah, now we see. Music with a message. Don't try and peddle that to the youth of today, they haven't got time for message, Poly. Good stuff.

 "I Live Off You" - 2:09

Poly must have deliberately chosen her name because she squawks like a bleeding parrot. No just joking, Poly, don't peck us. Maybe that was it, we remember now some scandal to do with shares and 'Poly-Peck' back in those halcyon days. And some old bint called Mrs Thatcher, too. Ah great, this one is, a story song about a boy and a girl, who live off each other. Hang on, call THAT romantic? What does that mean? Sounds more parasitic than loving! And we love to love here at Drunken Vinyls, love is our bag. Just call us Tina Charles! To the tune, Jeeves, to the tune. That's what the public want! Oh, fabulous, fabulous, a corker! A bona fide classic, music of a thousand musics and you can hear the lyrics - "Billy got to be exploited, Billy got to be exploited" we wonder if that's the same Billy from 'Rat Trap' by Boomtown Rats, you KNOW - "It's a RAT TRAP, Billy, and you've been CAUGHT!" We're playing that one again.

 "I Am a Poseur" - 2:34

Memo to ourselves -don't review records that are THIS GOOD - this is the best DrunkenVinyl ever, don't own it? Go out and buy it now - but on the vinyl, though, it's not a download thang, it really isn't - it has to be heard on the original vinyl as NATURE intended. Anyway, this one could indeed be Status Quo but with edge - really fast and - are we overusing this word - choppy, if we are, it is because choppy is the only way to describe the feast that attacks the ears - and the saxophone; terrific - it's NOT Hazel O'Connor on 'Will You', merely a rip-off, a pale imitation. Superb, we are running out of superlatives, a rare thing, as regular readers will know, for us here at DeeVee towers - our faith in mankind is restored.

"Germfree Adolescents" - 3:14

Oh - this is too sweet. This is where the New Romantics sprang from, like Lucifer from God's head - if you know your Milton. Ironically, given our drink of choice, Poly is name-checking Listerine. If only, if only, it were 'Pearla', then our happiness would know no bounds. We wonder if Aldi had been invented then, though? What is really sweet about this track is that it is the 'love song' of the LP and is almost a ballad in feel, and the way her voice cracks on the high notes... Seriously, to hear this, you are reminded of 'Save a Prayer' or anything by Spandau Ballet - if you know your Blitz. Simply astonishing. This record takes you by the throat and makes you believe. Dangerous.

"Plastic Bag" - 4:54

Right no messing about, you can see, when listening to this one, where Paul McCartney nicked 'Spin it On' from - rather jolly change of time signature; like all good LPs the best tunes are saved until last, the album grows - we wonder if this is the best punk LP of all time? Obviously, we know our Clash and Sex Pistols, but in terms of its context this is beyond all of those. Edgy. Exciting. Raw. Brilliant.

"The Day the World Turned Day-Glo" - 2:53

Well we've arrived at the end of this journey with the song that was lifted for a single, so we all know it, but we'd be hard pressed to find some filler on this LP. PolyStyrene, why didn't you go on? This present song is a cacophony of noise, but again the saxophone comments ironically on whatever is being said, and the compression has now gone allowing room and room to breathe. Cool. The more you imbibe, the more you enjoy - can it be true? That music and alcohol sit so well  together?

The Final Word

You own this, right? If you don't do your ears a favour. Go out and get it! Quite the most brilliant LP we have ever reviewed! Which is handy because there's only a couple left before we finish forever and the tower is closed down.

So…what have we learnt tonight?

Not much. In order to obtain this record beginning with X one of us had to scour the charity shops in a well known Cornish seaside town beginning with F. We’ll send the LP to the person who guesses correctly which one.

Visiting a record shop in this town, whilst fending off vicious seagulls called Beaky, your host was struck by the utter crap on sale at exorbitant prices. Vinyls – yes – but not ones you’d actually want to own – far removed from our collection – they were; to a plastic piece, complete shite. Expensive shite as well. Do you want to own ‘Rancheros’ by Don McClean for £35? No? Well neither do we Mr Record Seller Rip-Off Man.

This disheartened your host so much that he, upon exiting, was forced to order an ice cream – a ‘Mr Whippy’ with chocolate sauce, nuts and a flake. To his disgust, it was served with a napkin. A napkin? Since when was a napkin required to eat an ice cream? What kind of a society have we become that we are so pampered that we need such a thing to wipe up icy dribbles from our hands?

Actually, like so many things in modern life, the napkin might have been useful as the chocolate sauce, nuts et al became entangled and matted into your host’s beard – might have, but for the fact that it was completely inadequate to the task and merely exacerbated the problem by adding broken wafer biscuit cone to the bird’s nest of hair - the day the beard became day-glo indeed – and the more the napkin was dabbed into the beard, the worse the beard-pie became.

Which is rather like North Korea, isn’t it? No? Oh well, please yourselves.

Anon anon anon, you buttered buns, you!