The Music Thread

[Lumpy Von Talbot]

I recall a good interview I think with the Chieftains who went across the Pacific islands jamming with native musicians which must have been something to hear. I'll save the above for later on this evening with a cup of tea.

 

[Mowl]

I recall a good interview I think with the Chieftains who went across the Pacific islands jamming with native musicians which must have been something to hear. I'll save the above for later on this evening with a cup of tea.

Actually, the section featuring Ireland and Irish music in the 'making of' part of the documentary is filmed in a private studio up in the Dublin mountains. It also features a few faces not Irish but living there. And, funnily enough, when the section recorded in Ireland is placed into its place in the overall tracking, we get to see the Chieftans playing with intersections of some central African tribes doing percussion, another from Japan play concert flute, and few more.

And: they all fit seamlessly!

It's around one hour and thirty minutes in full, but I promise you you'll love the whole section at the start about how they first conceived of and then physically created the idea from rough pencil sketches to final edition: which is foreboding to say the least. The fake TV adverts you'll see of happy families in their homes watching the TV who suddenly have their walls torn down and some huge fuckers dressed in deep oil rig platforms saunter in and start drilling down into the bedrock beneath their feet.

The only reaction they make is Dad getting frustrated with all the gas suddenly splashing around and too many rigsmen blocking his view of the telly. It was striking then, but it's comedy now. Mostly because it's true.

 

[roc_abilly]

I'm also not in favour of any compromising of "the message".

Here's the real "message" for you, the song is called "The message" in fact. See how he uses his own words? Listen and learn from these smart black men, at the same time see how they are so much smarter and articulate than you.

 

[Mowl]

Great tune, timeless and awesome.

But one thing: the style of dress?

This was around the same time Eddie Murphy was strutting the boards in his skin tight red leather suit. The cowboy boots on black rappers? Absolutely appalling, but it did sow the seeds for the change of costume of 'dressing up' for stage with the assimilation of prison wear for rappers instead. No laces in the sneakers and no belt around the waist: these were prison orders so that convicts couldn't hang themselves, or anyone else. The classic Run DMC style.

Street-wear is still in vogue with the rap set, the two-piece sports tops and bottoms, and even the girls got in on that one.

I'd imagine any surviving members of The Furious Five probably look at the video and cringe as much as the rest of us do. The cowboy look on black Americans was never going to last. Tonto would have been a better cop than The Lone Ranger, all in white against Tonto's all sand-coloured get-up with feathers in the hair. In that one Native American album I played on, for stage I used three pieces of army-issue green string on my upper arm down to the elbow with white feathers, so that when I was playing full-on, it looked like I was about to take off. These are old school stage techniques and are appropriated all over the world.

One trick we had with Kila was that every member of the band who played standing up were under orders to wait until the intense outro section of the song and on cue - lean forward to the audience as though we were about to charge. All bodies tilted forward with one leg a step ahead of where you're standing.

It got them going every fucking time.

Simple things can go a long way if used properly and only in the pre-determined place in the music.

Black dudes dressed up as cowboys isn't very culturally convincing, and any stage performance has to have its unique cultural moments. In that light, hanging around on the stoop of some red brick in Brooklyn Heights looked the part, but not in cowboy boots.

Watch any live show from Public Enemy and see how the Bomb Squad do their moves. Some of it is military marching along with rifle handling under orders, but some of it also looks kind of cheesy/gay what with the tight-fitting military get-up and heavy army boots.

These days they wear gold-trimmed tracksuits and super expensive shades while driving down through your hood at two miles an hour so that EVERYONE sees you. Appropriation is very common these days, but back in my time on the Irish scene, PAMF stole everything we could lay our hands on, including the above lyric from 'The Message' with another steal from 'Jungleboogie' by Kool And The Gang.

We used the basic riff from Jungleboogie with the ascending progression at the bridge section but mixed the lyrics to get another angle.

'Jungle-boogie - huh
Jungle-boogie...
Jungle-boogie - huh ha
Jungleboogie...
'Jungle-boogie - hah
Jungle-boogie...
Jungle-boogie - hah ha
Jungleboogie...
Bridge:
'Well it's always like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under..'

And back around again. So long as we kept the groove tight, we could seque from a live DJ on the decks playing the actual recording of the extended mix of 'Jungle Boogie' to the DJ gradually pulling his faders down while we cranked the amps up - on the dance-floor along with the crowd. Hot and sweaty, really intense and always a howl to watch the faces of the dancers as they clocked that this wasn't the record, this was that amazing band over in the corner, owning the DJ's crowd. We started the tune by fading in over the DJ, but at the end we totally crashed it out, and there was always a few seconds left before the house DJ hit his next track. Long enough for the crowd to clap and cheer - but on to the next track on the decks fairly lively.

Sampling is one thing, but live players ripping on James Brown, Parliament, Funkadelic, Chic, Kool and The Gang, and using the grooves laid by the masters of funk was always the goal. Some tracks yes had original lyrics of our own invention, but nine times out of ten they were lifted from elsewhere to make a pastiche of instantly familiar riffs, grooves, lyrics, arrangements, and anything else not nailed down.

The osmosis of modern dance music.

It's hard to be original these days - all the best ideas have already been done to death.

So why bother?

I play for the fun first, then the money.

 

[roc_abilly]

I thought the cowboy outfits were great! One thing I lament about Ireland and Irish people is the general conservativeness in dress. I wonder is it connected with the tendency not to put one's head above the parapet so to speak.

 

[Mowl]

I thought the cowboy outfits were great! One thing I lament about Ireland and Irish people is the general conservativeness in dress.

The tracksuit element with the Irish scobes is thoroughly low class shit. Add in that stupid looking tight fring combed down onto the forehead is totes knacker-shit for real. Scumbags mostly, and only a fool wouldn't see them coming a hundred yards off. Back in the day there was a scene going on in the city centre: kids from all over Dublin hanging on Grafton Street, up to the Dandelion Market, St Stephen's Green knacker drinking by the fountains, lads busking on the streets, etc.

That said, I was mugged more than once for money, ciggies, and even a walkman. Another time for my Adidas 'spa boots' - the classic white ones with three blue stripes, with the taller lace-holes up over the ankles. I had a black Stetson nicked another time, so the next one I bought I cut out the top of it and added a circular woolen scarf so I could hang my dreads out of the hole on top.

One thing I lament about Ireland and Irish people is the general conservativeness in dress. I wonder is it connected with the tendency not to put one's head above the parapet so to speak.

I always make a point of dressing whatever way I feel like when I'm home for work in Ireland: I buy a set of clothes second hand up here and change into them as soon as I get to Mam's house. Off to work, back home covered in paint splashes and wipes, and wear them until they too fucked up to wear indoors, so I buy another set and dump the first one. This way my own clothes are clean and fresh, and the work clothes disposed of after use.

I get dirty looks all the time around Dublin, but I never pay it any mind. Some clients take a look at my get-up and tell me I can't work on their open floors dressed like that. 'Did you expect your design artist to be wearing a fucking business suit?' usually shuts them up. If not, then call Louis, he'll set them straight. I'm great with the customers, they take an interest in what I'm doing and there's always chats going on when I'm around, so I put on a show for them, try to involve them somehow and they always offer drinks - which I ALWAYS refuse. I never drink in any of my client's bars. Eat, yes: beer? Nope. Bad image. Bad reputation. Better to wait until I get home and have a cold one from the fridge while the Mammy's telling me how to dress for pubs in Ireland, and how she's mortified at the state of me.

You have to laugh though. One thing I adore about Finnish culture is the total absence of any type of judgement being passed regarding how you're dressed. Nobody cares what you're dressed in when out and about. If anything you're judged by how friendly or gruff you are. Not even the bouncers in clubs get to knock you, all they can do is insist you leave your coat in the coat check - that's what apparently pays their wages. I usually tell them to fuck off, pay the €2 check fee and walk in dressed as I arrived. I dislike that angle: they use it to partly cause a queue to build up at the front door, which the other passers-by think makes it cool, but also to frustrate you into paying to hang your jacket.

This is because during winter - there are dozens of ways to dress for the weather, and big boots and bigger hats matter. Fur coats (mine's fake fur: dark grey/black, down to the middle of the thighs, and a massive hood) I'll always check in last it get lifted while I'm offside. I bought it back in 1998 for around (one hundred punts/one hundred thirty euros) three hundred Markka. Still in excellent shape, it goes into storage for the summer/fall period, then out again for winter.

How you look depends on where you go.

Up here it's a free for all.

Especially these days with the LGBTQRSTUVX types: blokes in make-up and half girl/half man clothing styles, pairs of girls kissing and holding hands as they wander through the city. Clothing styles are completely fucking OTT lately, but I try not to stare and if I'm caught eye-balling anyone, I smile and give a nod of approval. Thankfully the wee kids aren't included in that quotient of local society. Dressing your kid up to make some statement is totally frowned upon.

The one thing that really repulses me is the sheer number of piercings on the face and body. Those round things in the ear-lobes? Rank, disgusting. Nose rings? Eye rings? Half Nelsons? Fuck that shit, it makes me gag. Tattoos as well. I don't have any, nor do I have any plans to get one. Loads of younger people get their entire upper bodies done. Right up the neck and partially onto the face. Horrible fucking stuff that in a few years will look like somebody vomited up a Chinese take-away all over them.

But that's Finland for you: summer is short, so the ladies want to show as much skin to the sun as the season allows.

Which is fine by me.

Tonight there's a gallery opening of new art by an old friend. Haven't decided what to wear, but whatever it is is only for me: I don't dress to impress. I dress to make a statement. Fuck off. Don't even think about approaching me. Not unless I invite you first, I've no time for small talk or inane bullshit. Like everyone else up here really.

 

[Electricity]

Have you ever encountered two bigger Walter Mittys than Moron 1 and Moron 2

 

[Lumpy Von Talbot]

A punk mate of mine took me into Dublin once after doing the hair spiking bit and lending me some of his punk gear which was quite an honour as he was one of those punks who made his own clothes- I recall trousers made out of that lairy plasticky table covering you'd find in cafes in the 70s that were easy to wipe down.

Walking down O'Connell Street in punk gear was amazing with the barnet spiked up. You didn't have to veer left or right, just walk straight ahead and the crowds would part for you like the red sea.

I'm not into dressing up but I like certain things- like when I'm in Cork I'll always pick up a few of those heavyweight grandad shirts, the hand made old fashioned ones, not the shitty light cotton ones. I think they are made by charities for the disabled but they are great- they get better with age and washing. Ex-girlfriends were bastards for using the older softer ones for nightshirts and inevitably made off with them on breakup.

The best one I have on me now is at least ten years old and just nicely softened from years of conditioned washing. I'm thinking of treating myself to a good tailored suit and proper tailored overcoat later this year. I'll either look like Charlie Watts or someone from Peaky Blinders. I don't do caps. I've a liking for hats.

I had a deadly Italian leather jacket I got in Florence for a couple of hundred quid. I used to get asked every now and then in London where I got it, when I said Italy they'd invariably go 'yeah, figures'. Beautiful leather that was, proper job. I thought about getting a flight over to buy another and come back next day or something but think that's probably a bit shit these days given flying like that is haram without good reason.

It is either Chelsea boots or docs for Talbot these days.

 

[Mowl]

Have you ever encountered two bigger Walter Mittys than Moron 1 and Moron 2

The A Team: featuring:

Jambo - the black guy with the fake gold necklaces
Coal/Saul - the hapless bystander who'll believe anything you throw at him
Sham - the unhappy transvestite and cross-dressing Galway street busker
Myles - the trans-fixated alcoholic who'd like to try stockings and suspenders but is afraid his Ma might catch him

On a more positive note, the laughter factor is huge.

Here, try this on for size:



Then go and wash your butt.

 

[roc_abilly]

The tracksuit element with the Irish scobes is thoroughly low class shit. Add in that stupid looking tight fring combed down onto the forehead is totes knacker-shit for real. Scumbags mostly, and only a fool wouldn't see them coming a hundred yards off. Back in the day there was a scene going on in the city centre: kids from all over Dublin hanging on Grafton Street, up to the Dandelion Market, St Stephen's Green knacker drinking by the fountains, lads busking on the streets, etc.

That said, I was mugged more than once for money, ciggies, and even a walkman. Another time for my Adidas 'spa boots' - the classic white ones with three blue stripes, with the taller lace-holes up over the ankles. I had a black Stetson nicked another time, so the next one I bought I cut out the top of it and added a circular woolen scarf so I could hang my dreads out of the hole on top.





I always make a point of dressing whatever way I feel like when I'm home for work in Ireland: I buy a set of clothes second hand up here and change into them as soon as I get to Mam's house. Off to work, back home covered in paint splashes and wipes, and wear them until they too fucked up to wear indoors, so I buy another set and dump the first one. This way my own clothes are clean and fresh, and the work clothes disposed of after use.

I get dirty looks all the time around Dublin, but I never pay it any mind. Some clients take a look at my get-up and tell me I can't work on their open floors dressed like that. 'Did you expect your design artist to be wearing a fucking business suit?' usually shuts them up. If not, then call Louis, he'll set them straight. I'm great with the customers, they take an interest in what I'm doing and there's always chats going on when I'm around, so I put on a show for them, try to involve them somehow and they always offer drinks - which I ALWAYS refuse. I never drink in any of my client's bars. Eat, yes: beer? Nope. Bad image. Bad reputation. Better to wait until I get home and have a cold one from the fridge while the Mammy's telling me how to dress for pubs in Ireland, and how she's mortified at the state of me.

You have to laugh though. One thing I adore about Finnish culture is the total absence of any type of judgement being passed regarding how you're dressed. Nobody cares what you're dressed in when out and about. If anything you're judged by how friendly or gruff you are. Not even the bouncers in clubs get to knock you, all they can do is insist you leave your coat in the coat check - that's what apparently pays their wages. I usually tell them to fuck off, pay the €2 check fee and walk in dressed as I arrived. I dislike that angle: they use it to partly cause a queue to build up at the front door, which the other passers-by think makes it cool, but also to frustrate you into paying to hang your jacket.

This is because during winter - there are dozens of ways to dress for the weather, and big boots and bigger hats matter. Fur coats (mine's fake fur: dark grey/black, down to the middle of the thighs, and a massive hood) I'll always check in last it get lifted while I'm offside. I bought it back in 1998 for around (one hundred punts/one hundred thirty euros) three hundred Markka. Still in excellent shape, it goes into storage for the summer/fall period, then out again for winter.

How you look depends on where you go.

Up here it's a free for all.

Especially these days with the LGBTQRSTUVX types: blokes in make-up and half girl/half man clothing styles, pairs of girls kissing and holding hands as they wander through the city. Clothing styles are completely fucking OTT lately, but I try not to stare and if I'm caught eye-balling anyone, I smile and give a nod of approval. Thankfully the wee kids aren't included in that quotient of local society. Dressing your kid up to make some statement is totally frowned upon.

The one thing that really repulses me is the sheer number of piercings on the face and body. Those round things in the ear-lobes? Rank, disgusting. Nose rings? Eye rings? Half Nelsons? Fuck that shit, it makes me gag. Tattoos as well. I don't have any, nor do I have any plans to get one. Loads of younger people get their entire upper bodies done. Right up the neck and partially onto the face. Horrible fucking stuff that in a few years will look like somebody vomited up a Chinese take-away all over them.

But that's Finland for you: summer is short, so the ladies want to show as much skin to the sun as the season allows.

Which is fine by me.

Tonight there's a gallery opening of new art by an old friend. Haven't decided what to wear, but whatever it is is only for me: I don't dress to impress. I dress to make a statement. Fuck off. Don't even think about approaching me. Not unless I invite you first, I've no time for small talk or inane bullshit. Like everyone else up here really.

Ah Mowl, fantastic photo.

I knew that Dublin myself, perhaps slightly later.

A menagerie of goths, punks, cure heads, 'chain heads, psychobillies, skaters, rockers, green bomber jackets with flat tops, docs, studded belts, paisley shirts, winkle pickers, crepe soles, combat trousers, side zip trousers, never mind what the girls were wearing, all I remember is those tops that were kind of tied around at the bottom, what were they called?

Tribes and sub tribes all wearing a type of uniform that identified you to a tribe. Although always as fluid as the band that you loved that month or year (or for many many many years, sometimes, God love them).

And the 'scobies', yes, and they were composed of sub tribes again, according to their inner city area, and they were always there at the edges, occasionally marauding, orgies of destruction of commercial premises and vicious physical attacks, and they would remember slights, and names, and never forget. They targeted anyone really different. Anyone not afraid of them. Anyone with a reputation. Anyone who answered back. Anyone who didn't know their place.

That said, ten years later, I fondly remember all of that come tumbling down, those walls and differences, under a barrage of dance music, ecstasy, and the camaraderie of dancing alongside each other for fourteen hours straight.

The "brotherhood of man" as I sometimes try to explain it to Jambo on here, although for some reason it seems to upset him.

... Jack is the one that can bring nations and nations of all Jackers
together under one house.
You may be black, you may be white, you may be Jew, or Gentile.
It don't make a difference in our house...

 

[roc_abilly]

Delia Derbyshire.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFQRyXq3OR8

 

[Mowl]

Delia Derbyshire.

She was brilliant, way ahead of her time.

Even today when I hear the Dr Who theme, I get those same shivers I did as a kid just out of the bath and wrapped in big towel in front of the telly, waiting for Dad to get home from work with the weekend treat of fish and chips in time to watch the entire show. Years later, working with PAMF, I played the theme to him (I knew he'd get it immediately) and we ended up using it as an intro to another cover version of 'Barrel Of A Gun' by The Beastie Boys. Great riff, menacing and insistent, and just enough rage in the vocals to let you know the Beastie's weren't taking any seriously, ever.



So from the outro of the theme, then a long sustained rall of the final note, then the drums come in again, bringing up the rear. The bass-line's like a fucking machine gun, and the guitars are filthy manky dirty. It's beautiful.

 

[odanny]

 

[Electricity]

Ah Mowl, fantastic photo.

I like the photo too.

I always like photos of the Mowl when he has the - WTF is going on? look on his face.. where am I, who are you

Harmonica half-dangling from his lips, held unstably up by his withered hand

I knew that Dublin myself, perhaps slightly later.

A menagerie of goths, punks, cure heads, 'chain heads, psychobillies, skaters, rockers, green bomber jackets with flat tops, docs, studded belts, paisley shirts, winkle pickers, crepe soles, combat trousers, side zip trousers, never mind what the girls were wearing, all I remember is those tops that were kind of tied around at the bottom, what were they called?

Tribes and sub tribes all wearing a type of uniform that identified you to a tribe. Although always as fluid as the band that you loved that month or year (or for many many many years, sometimes, God love them).

And the 'scobies', yes, and they were composed of sub tribes again, according to their inner city area, and they were always there at the edges, occasionally marauding, orgies of destruction of commercial premises and vicious physical attacks, and they would remember slights, and names, and never forget. They targeted anyone really different. Anyone not afraid of them. Anyone with a reputation. Anyone who answered back. Anyone who didn't know their place.

That said, ten years later, I fondly remember all of that come tumbling down, those walls and differences, under a barrage of dance music, ecstasy, and the camaraderie of dancing alongside each other for fourteen hours straight.

The "brotherhood of man" as I sometimes try to explain it to Jambo on here, although for some reason it seems to upset him.

... Jack is the one that can bring nations and nations of all Jackers
together under one house.
You may be black, you may be white, you may be Jew, or Gentile.
It don't make a difference in our house...

 

[Mowl]

I like the photo too.

Doesn't surprise me at all.

You're gay after all.

A big homosexual with an eye for the lads: Saul Bucket, Sham Frock, Myles O'Piles, etc.

A total arse bandit.

I always like photos of the Mowl

We know - and we know why too.

Harmonica half-dangling from his lips, held unstably up by his withered hand

The funniest part of this sad little attempt to get me to pay you some attention is so far over your head I almost want to tell you what's going on.

But I'll leave you dangling for a while yet - in your shitty little flat in your filthy little country.

The main reason I don't give a fuck about the stabbing on Grafton Street is, and let me stress this: that I don't even have to give a fuck.

Because I don't live on the sad little rock - but you do, for the rest of your life arid existence.

Whoever stabbed whom isn't even an issue for me, I left that miserable little country to get away from fools like you and the scumbags who stab strangers for their wallet/phone/sneakers/coat/cigarettes/tin of Dutch Gold. I notice too how your nationalism fails you in relation to the feral filth who have taken over the capital city of Ireland. You live in a ghetto. I live in a wonderful country, but that's not even the best bit: the best bit is the Finnish ladies. And me. Stuck smack dab in the middle of babe central. The best you can hope for is some fat Dublin estate slut with three black kids and one Chinese one she can't figure out why she gave birth to it.

The filth, the trash, the garbage in the rain, the hard chaws on the streets, the RTE debacle, Leinster House and its current tenants shafting you every chance they get, and you: yapping about nationalism - your Dutch Gold in one hand, your cheap phone in the other. No girlfriend, no mother, a drunk for a Da, Sham for a mate, Saul as a fan, and you stuck in the middle of it. You sad, sad little cunt.

Anyway - you were talking about the photo?

 

[Electricity]

I've always thought that Taylor Swift is a very nice, hard-working, conscientious young lady.

Catchy song, clever ("one-take") video -

[751M]​

 

[Mowl]

Gay.

Utterly utterly homosexual.

 

[Electricity]

One would have hoped that you would have woken up in a better mood today Mowl.

But no, it seems

 

[Mowl]

I wake joyful most mornings, Jimmy.

I live in the world's happiest country after all, with the world's most beautiful ladies.

You wouldn't fit in up here, so don't waste your time - or your money.



Oh, and by the way: when yourself and your last crush - the Shitstick, - warned me about Finland's imminent demise regarding NATO?

Remember that one?









Heh.

 

[Mowl]

Mowl, I don't think you should assume that anyone who "pays you some attention" is automatically a homosexual. That does seem to be a thing with you though

I have no issues with you being gay. Homosexuals are people too, as are lesbians.

The colour of their skin might be an issue for you, but again - not me.

Their country of origin is certainly an issue for you, but not for me - Finland has the situation in hand. We have a large number of new apartment blocks about to open and over the last three years we've opened even more. Prices are very affordable, quality is high, they're within the city limits and are more than adequately serviced by local businesses of many/all kinds. Ireland currently has fuck all addresses available, they were all given to Ukrainians. Your students are about to get it in the neck - but you aren't concerned about that, you just flip the record over and play the b-sides of Oasis's last few pop hits and crack open another tin of Dutch Gold.

Your nationalism is fuck all use to anyone - yourself included.

Well the charge that was put to you is that it does matter. Recently, if a "white Irish" scobe so much as stole a packet of Silvermints you've been reporting on it, the end is nigh,

No idea where you got that from.

yet nothing of the stabbing on Grafton Street by a North African asylum shopper..

Why would I care? I said last week what I thought about the violence in your city. Your problem seems to be that you don't about crime on your streets, you care about what I think about it. Probably because you're ashamed, or maybe you're glad to see a few Paddy and Biddy sorts getting it in the neck.

Does your type of ethno-nationalism cater for murdering swine from the tropics having a cushty time in the nick on your dollar?

Classist and racist, roc will just have to ignore that one

I'm a white Irishman in Finland.

You're an unemployed stick insect somewhere in the bogs, you hate black people, you want them all sent back to wherever they came from.

In Finland we first educate them, then put them to work.

Easy-peasy.

Title of your new song?

No, the new tracks I'm working on with this latest album we've been recording will be released independently and will go online. I'll even share them with you because I'm so proud of what we've done. Pride, it's a wonderful thing: I'm proud to be part of Finnish life, and absolutely thrilled about not being in Ireland these last couple of decades. The more I tune in to what's going on over there, the more idiotic you appear to me.

Your country is fucked.

Utterly.

Therefore you too are fucked - utterly.

Sounds a bit like Green Day

No it doesn't.

Not unless Green Day are a shower of cockney plastic Paddy sorts.

Still, at least you listened to it.

Eh, no, not really.

You never remember your worst gaffes, but that's okay - I have an excellent and photographic memory.

I remember Jambo, James Dawson, Jimmy D, Liam Gallagher, the A Team, Truth League, all these little crumbs you left behind you to find your way back out of the maze you got lost in. How many accounts and names have you been through thus far? And you're still a laughing stock.

I recall you guffawing at the idea that Finland was going to join the Gay Disco.. until it was.. and then it was like Frosties cornflakes, grrreat!

What?

What the fuck does that even mean?

Gay disco?

Put the Dutch Gold down and step away from the table.

Your butt - go wash it.