“Y’all got tickets to see the Stone Roses? What? Manchester doesn’t like the Stone Roses? Aren’t they from here? Ladies and gentlemen… our special guests, THE STONE ROSES! They’re all out back cryin’ now…”
Das Racist aren’t your average hip hop outfit. Instead of bring the usual posturing that is seemingly obligatory in the world of rap, they pretty much stumbled into view almost as unprepared as we were when we first set sight on them.
Coming to Manchester, on the back of an appearance on the Conan O’Brien show, they stared out at the throng and looked as pleasantly bewildered as those staring back at them. Mercifully, from the neck down, everybody was dancing.
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The big news amongst balding 40 year-olds is that the Stone Roses are going to reform. There’s a press conference imminent and everyone has got their hopes up again… just like they get their hopes up everytime someone mutters the word ‘reunion’.
Of course, around Manchester and its satellite towns, you have to silently mouth the words ‘Stone Roses Reunion’ in the same way dog-owners have to avoid saying ‘walkies’ to a dog. The excitement in both camps is equally giddy and urinatory.
And handily for the Stone Roses, save a bit of IRA sponsored building regeneration, Manchester hasn’t changed much since they split. For ON THE EIGHT DAY, GOD CREATED MANCHESTER NOSTALGIA!
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Dealers keep dealin’. Thieves keep thievin’. Whores keep whorin’. Junkies keep scorin’. Trade is on the meat rack. Strip joints full of hunchbacks. Bitches keep bitchin’. Clap keeps itchin’.
You might recognise these as the lyrics from Primal Scream’s exileonmainstreetesque hit, ‘Rocks’. What you may not realise is that the British Conservative Party are big fans too and just love being associated with drug dealing, prostitution, crime and sexually transmitted diseases.
How so? Well, for some inexplicable reason, our Tory chums thought it would be a good idea to play the track at the Conservative Party Conference which saw Theresa May making things up about immigrants and cats. Primal Scream are not happy.
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Politics, what a lot of cobblers. Full of posh and privately educated individuals, the humble person on the street has to work out what’s a lie, or just fabrication. Politicians have a long way to go before the general public appreciate them. Ever seen an MP sticker book? Only people who are liked get this accolade, like randy, closeted footballers.
From what we can gather, the coalition government blames Labour for any problem affecting the UK and they’re here to mend the problems.
This week, David Cameron takes his Conservative minions to Manchester to tell the country how wonderful a job he’s doing and state future plans whilst making terrible jokes. But in a leaked document that was stuffed through the letterbox of the hecklerspray bedsit, we’ve seen potential policies that were scrapped at the last moment. Learning from tricks of the trade from one Tory predecessor Margaret Thatcher, one of proposals will shock you to the core.
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So, ITV1 have given all their money away to wife beaters and rapists. This is the new way. As such, this essentially means you have to watch X Factor twice, because they can’t afford to make any new TV programmes. Thank god Kelly Rowland agreed to work overtime due to how much she believes in music. (Cocaine.)
Talk Talk have given stop-frame animation a go and simultaneously ired the entire board of the Academy Awards as a result.
This week we are visiting MANCHESTER. Although the show isn’t in chronological order or anything, so basically we’re just looking at the bits they filmed in Manchester. Or at least ITV1’s edited version of Manchester, which involves a lot of day-glo and mystical interchangeable skies, apparently. Or Hogwarts, if you will. Due to the fact that ITV1 are not culturally familiar with the ’80s ‘Madchester’ scene, we must settle for gratuitous tracking shots of Selfridges over and over to fully understand where we are. Come to think of it, the true meaning of Manchester probably is £18 lip gloss.
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Soul Rebels Brass Band have a story. And fuck, the white middle classes who will be fawning over this lot as they make their way around Europe, love a tale of triumph over adversity. Like the blues singers who went blind and lost all their fingers, only to grow more fingers, which they also lost, who made amazing dustbowl tales of misery, SRBB have extreme discomfort and tragedy backing them up.
Basically, all you need to know is that they’re from New Orleans and were punched straight in the gut by The Flood, left to whistle by a slow reacting government and using music to drag them out of one kind of funk and straight into another.
However, to focus on this doesn’t really do the Soul Rebels justice. It wouldn’t matter one jot if these guys just happened to be out of town while misery knocked on the door because, when they strike up their invigorating blend of N’Orleans jazz, Lee Dorsey funk and shameless enthusiasm for a good time, you’re not exactly wringing your hands and thinking of tough times.
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“It’s funny when people ask me that. We like to have a good time, all the time,” said Ty Taylor, lead singer of rock ‘n’ soul outfit, Vintage Trouble. “Like Spinal Tap?” His face fell. See, Vintage Trouble is irony-free soul music. They’ve got a really, really lousy name – Vintage? Really? Why not throw ‘retro’ in there as well? Or ‘stonewashed’? – but loadsa bands have, right?
See, Vintage Trouble take their facsimile version of ’60s soul music around the world which is lapped up by those who were there and still regard it to be the best music in the world. And while you can convince yourself that to be true, there’s something missing from this crew of slick soulsters.
And that’s context.
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Alice Cooper is just great isn’t he? He’s the old dame of rock ‘n’ roll, pissing about with snakes, guillotines and fake blood, all the while, churning out goth-pop and stadium horror rock with a cheeky glint in his eye.
He takes his work about as seriously as hecklerspray takes writing.
Yet somehow, despite the Iggy Stooge shock-tactics and releasing LPs that come in schoolgirl knickers, he’s become a hugely famous star. Your mum probably likes some of his tunes. And so, you should have a nice family day-out to his UK Halloween shows which, in fairness, look like they’re going to be one gigantic laughathon. With cobwebs. However, Alice Cooper needs you… if you’re a freakshow of a human that is.
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