The Return Of Friday Night Is Rockabilly Night 84

It’s Friday night and I’m off to a works do/disco. Always difficult affairs aren’t they- the combination of alcohol, people you work with and like, people you work with and tolerate, and people you work with who can drive you up the wall. Add in some awful music from a small club dj and you’ve got an evening made for disaster. Then there’s the dress code- some people completely over the top in celebrity-reality TV show dog’s dinner and some people looking like they’ve popped in on the way back from B and Q on a Sunday afternoon. On the other hand I can’t remember the last time I went out on a Friday night so let’s make the best of it eh?

So, like Vic Gallon in 1956, I’m Gone. This record features a very young rockabilly legend Dean Goffey on lead guitar and a whole heap of reverb.

I’m Gone

We Don’t Have The Time For Psychological Romance

No time for psychological romance? What’s up with you man? Not that I’m sure what psychological romance is.

Word Up by Cameo is an absurdly good record. That codpiece always gets mentioned which reduces the record a little and turns it into an 80s novelty when it’s anything but. Word Up is a funky, dirty, slapbass monster that can still rock a dancefloor today.

Meanwhile John Steinbeck contemplates psychological romance, from his armchair, sometime in the 1930s.

Word Up

While I’m here, hello to readers in Haiti! One of the stats Blogger gives me is that it shows where readers come from- usually and mainly the UK and the US followed by various European countries and Canada. This week Haitian Bagging Area readers number forty- or one reader reading on forty different occasions. On some combination. This boggles my mind slightly- that a person or people in Haiti read my witterings, written in my room in M33.


A free treat from Public Service Broadcasting at the end of their current tour- latest single Everest (full of public information film samples about climbing on the roof of the world), remixed Balearic style by The Centaurs, bassline to the fore and some atmospheric synths and bleeps. Seven and a half minutes of ice pick and crampon joy. It’s at Soundcloud (free download).

Tell Me

More retro rock from North America- this time from California’s Allah Las, who couldn’t sound more 1965 Stones/Byrds if they tried. Usually bands have to come from late 80s/early 90s Liverpool to sound this much mid-60s. Folk-rock guitars, harmonies, sunshine and Nuggets, and reverb turned up to ten. It’s very well done. Is it any good? I really can’t tell at the moment.

Tell Me (What’s On Your Mind)

Beware The Hooded Fang

Ok, I know that that’s the Hooded Claw with Penelope Pitstop and not the Canadian indie-surf/Tijuana brass, guitar twanglers Hooded Fang, but it’s close enough.

Hooded Fang’s Tosta Mista album could be one of this year’s most enjoyable listens- it’s short and to the point, full of bright and breezy 60s hooks, 80s indie-punk lo-fi spirit and upbeat despite mostly being about a break-up. I like it- its got charm and a bit of charm goes a long way. And that’s what counts as a review here today.

The Hooded Claw had neither a hood nor a claw and was the alter-ego of Penelope’s guardian Sylvester Sneekly who tried to kill her to grab her fortune… it’s a cheap cartoon. Who cares?


Boom Bop

Westworld’s Sonic Boom Boy was in the music round of the pub quiz recently and sent at least two of us on a discussion of the dress sense and attractiveness of singer Elizabeth Westwood (and the merits of the song). Westworld mixed up 50s rockabilly and comics with beatboxes and sequenced stuff, not too far from early BAD, just a bit poppier. Westworld also had in their ranks Derwood, a former member of Generation X making a bid for pop glory. This was the remix from the B-side of the 12″ single-

Sonic Boom Bop

And this was the video-

A genuine hit single (number 11 in 1987), this was the TOTP appearance-

Without getting all TV talking head clipshow about it, our kids just don’t have the benefit of seeing bands play Top Of The Pops, watching the good stuff shine amid all the shite.

Joe Maher

It’s been reported that Joe Maher of Flowered Up has died. Joe was guitarist and younger brother of singer Liam Maher (who died in 2009). Flowered Up left behind a small but brightly coloured, e-fuelled back catalogue including this cover version of a Right Said Fred song (done for a Heavenly Records ep) which I’ve always liked. RIP Joe.

Don’t Talk Just Kiss

Astronauts The New Conquistadors

My Star was Ian Brown’s first solo single and I think maybe his best solo moment- space race samples (‘God speed John Glenn’), driving bass, some good guitar and a Brown lyric about superpower colonisation of space. He should have done more of this sort of stuff.

While we’re on the subject of monkeys, a report last week said that psychologists reckon chimps and other great apes have a mid-life crisis- they become lethargic, their sense of well-being suffers, they start fancying younger apes. Which would suggest that a mid-life crisis is due to hormones or something wouldn’t it? Surely apes don’t have a sense of reaching mid-life and having achieved nothing or an awareness that they’ve passed the midway point. Like us.

My Star

Yes, I Remember Adlestrop

I have been reminded twice about Adlestrop recently. First time was sitting in a cafe after I.T. marched at the Remembrance Day parade in Sale and leafing through the magazine of a Sunday paper I don’t normally read there was an article on the poem, alongside some First World War poetry. Adlestrop was by Edward Thomas, a poet who volunteered for service (despite being too old) and was killed in 1917. The gist of the article was that Adlestrop is a war poem that does not mention the war. I read it in the cafe and despite all the cafe hubbub and noise and the aftermath of the parade and I.T.’s part in it, for a minute or so there was only me and the poem. I don’t recall reading it since studying Thomas during 6th form.

By happy coincidence Davy H provided a link a day or two ago to a Gone West mix he did at Mixcloud, half an hour of pastoral music with some poetry kicking off with, yup,  Richard Burton reading Adlestrop and then on to tracks from Chicane, Led Zeppelin, XTC, Villagers and Orbital and back to the poetry with TS Eliot. It’s a really well put together mix and I thoroughly recommend it.

Yes, I remember Adlestrop — 
The name, because one afternoon 
Of heat the express-train drew up there 
Unwontedly. It was late June. 

The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat. 
No one left and no one came 
On the bare platform. What I saw 
Was Adlestrop — only the name 

And willows, willow-herb, and grass, 
And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry, 
No whit less still and lonely fair 
Than the high cloudlets in the sky. 

And for that minute a blackbird sang 
Close by, and round him, mistier, 
Farther and farther, all the birds 
Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire. 

Adlestrop (read by Richard Burton)

Glued To The Screen

Some exhilarating garage rock for Saturday morning from defunct early 21st century band Lost Sounds, natives of Memphis, Tennessee. They combined primitive garage guitars with analogue synths and some good vocals from Alicja Trout. Until just now I never knew Jay Reatard was in this band. I don’t really know much about Jay Reatard but I have heard the name. 
An informative post for you there.