Archive for May 2004

The creature she wants/blues reversal   Leave a comment

Across the web another soul reaches out to ask me:, How do they fkk with snakes?

Looks like you’ve come to a real Z00 here! Yeap! We have goats, we have horses,
sheep, snakes, even dogs!

e have lots of
1mls here and we also have lots of g1r|s who just love
to have some s. e -x with these creatures? How do they do it?

How do they sa-ck those c0c.k-s?

How do they fkk with snakes? Snakes don’t have c0c.k-s!!!

Guys! Our g1r|s can do it with every creature they want!
They are ready for it! They are tired from men!
They do realize that wild
1mls are fkking like no man would ever fkk them.
Cause they are animals and they fkk just like everybody did thousands
and millions years ago!

Stunning 1ma-.ges, v1de0s, art series, lots of
1mls, y0.u-n.g horny g1r|s
spred1ng their legs and skking c0c-k.s!

This is a first ever -X-.-X-.-X- zoo where every g1r| can fkk the creature she wants!


It’s a strange new world out there, and it isn’t written in English, yeap.
Now what was I saying about the whole world being populated by cunts who don’t appreciate DJ Wholefood? Well, last week, or Tuesday and Thursday anyroad, it was like the whole world was reading my diary and trying to make up for itself. Thursday I had the blues and I played the blues all bloody day, which must surely have been a drag for my co-workers, and yet virtually every other customer was approaching the till with a curious smile and a question about who Memphis Minnie was, or Gus Cannon was, and I reckon I was flogging more copies of the Harry Smith Anthology of American Folk Music (indirectly via word of mouth) than I was avocados. Then I had a conversation with a chap who must be nearer fifty that forty about contemporary German dub, dub music in general, the peerlessness of Mr. Lee Rainford Perry in the context of the genre and the undoubtedly benign influence of his production skills on the work of Bob Marley & The Wailers. “What he got out of Marley was amazing,” was what he said. It did me good, so keep it coming please.

Right, stuff to do.

Posted May 13, 2004 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

The Ambiguity/ Hair Of The Frog   Leave a comment

Today I had a hangover like only the very evil have to suffer and the Mill Road pageant was accordingly warped. I had the usual shit with hangover invisibility, where people block your path even as you hurry towards somewhere where you do not wish to arrive. There’s a Mill Road character (who I keep meaning to add to the Mill Road Characters section of this site) that seems to have got stuck on a journey between the sexes, and manages to be both titted and bearded, and generally confusing on the eye, as well as a shabby dresser. Once s/he came in the shop with an odd request for a specific type of marzipan, and lingered about ambiguously for ages whilst I fretted in my discomfort. Anyway today, as I stumbled and weaved like a damned angel who the living could not see s/he appeared up ahead and her/his gaze locked onto mine as though recognizing a fellow denizen of this separate dimension. I tried to look away but my eyes felt held there in my hungover dread. As I passed alongside The Ambiguity, as I have just decided to call him or her (to save on hims and hers) s/he paused, turned slightly towards me and said “hello”. I pounded past The Ambiguity before it could do a Lionel Ritchie number on me, shaking my head at the purity of the surreality that seemed to be enveloping me.

As I approached Mill Road bridge I saw a woman in her 70’s careening down the bridge on a bicycle, dragging her foot on the road in place of a functioning brake. Even this seemed wildly improbable to my fevered mind.

Later on when I was on Mill Road bridge again with Syd this woman who shops in the shop and specialises in the kind of sincerely friendly smiles that seem out of place in modern English society (she is European as it goes) addressed me cheerily from behind and then drew level to walk with me and ask me questions about my life as my bony hands tightly gripped the handles of the pushchair for support.

Then Syd and I came back to my room and drew abstract stuff on the walls. Later on we visited the frogs in the pond that have glamorous gold eyelids and I drank some wine to moderate my mood.

Posted May 13, 2004 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

Performance downs. And ups.   Leave a comment

OK, lemme do a recap of recent gigs. The benefit one for Cambridge FC was of the worst UM performances you were likely to see, although its unlikely you did, because I sure as hell didn’t see you there. Any qualms I had about doing my whimsical art-pop shtick in front of a load of moustachioed footie fans were soon swept aside by the total non-appearance of the aforementioned, and indeed the almost complete absence of almost anybody at all who wasn’t in either of the bands, or wasn’t one of the DJs, or a sound-engineer, or the promoter, or the promoters sister, or the venue staff. Dave and Andrew came to see me, as did Andrew’s friend, but then you have to remember that Dave is the head of one record label I’m signed to (ha ha) and Andrew is the head of the other (he he). In fact if you were none of the above then you were almost certainly Simon Lee Morgan (who acts as compere for the Eclectic Cabaret nights at Café Afrika), or you were some young drunk Scot who dances like Ian Brown when you aren’t crashing into things, and for your sake I hope that you aren’t. Having said all this however, it wasn’t such a bad night. It’s just that I was crap. I really struggled to haul my ass into the zone for the non-masses. Maybe I’m getting spoilt, but it’s not as though I play to even medium-sized crowds on a regular basis. I used to think that sort of thing was funny; all grist kind of a thing, like when I played to 17 people at the Junction and I couldn’t stop throwing stadium rock poses (when you have a big stage and wedge monitors, you just can’t stop yourself running about like Jon Bon Jovi). I think I was just tired, because I just couldn’t get any enthusiasm for the old attention-seeking going. The worst bit was that near the end two or three people came and danced at the front, including Ian McBrown, and feeling embarrassed for them as well as myself was too much for me to bear. I was so thrown that when they asked for an encore I felt obliged to do one, even though I never do encores because it’s kind of wack and I figure that if they really want more then you should quit while you’re ahead. So, having just done Holy Fire I did Suddes’ remix version of the same tune, and since it’s the same tune, albeit completely different, I just felt like some thinned-out, tired old rip-off merchant.
Anyways, Ruby Nichols were almost as good as the first time I saw them – new personnel settling in OK as far as I could see – and the DJs were great sorta rock gig DJs. Lots of LCD Soundsystem stuff at the end for people to shake the lager inside them around to, or fall into other people’s if you’re Scottish Boy (Jesus, I’m turning into some kind of did-you-spill-my-pint? cunt, and it wasn’t even mine that got spilled, because I was holding onto mine for dear booze). I was slightly concerned by Barney’s (is that yer name mate?) championing of early Heart, but then I like people with preposterous views, so that was cool too.
So, yeah, next night is the benefit for Richard Rippin, sorry, for Indymedia at Café Afrika, and because of the Cambridge FC gig I felt like I had something to prove and the rock fire inside me was burning with a steady intensity like a quality gas oven. Some artists, mainly twatty singers, will tell you that it’s not them that’s producing the beautiful music: they’re just channelling something from a higher source. Personally I think I channel from a lower source, but with gigs like this one, I just knew I was going to be in the zone because I’d been so poxy the night before. It just felt utterly inevitable, and that kind of notion can boost your confidence. I was also lucky in that there was a pretty good crowd, which is invariably useful in showbusiness. My favourite thing about the gig was that I had been assigned a guy just to take care of my minidisk player (they didn’t have any DI boxes so I couldn’t control/lose control of it onstage). He was only supposed to change the tape twice during the course of the gig but he ended up acting as my slightly more competent assistant, stopping and started the tape after every song, and even calling out the names so I could do short introductions and be relaxed enough to ad lib with a facility that was slick by my usual standards. It was fucking great. In fact the whole night was great because all the acts were good, and the Bandanistas in particular have evolved into such a good all-round entertainment unit that they could probably pull a crowd on the moon. In fact pulling a crowd in Cambridge is almost as astonishing; so somebody or lots of people did something right that night. I’ve got cool footage of everybody grinning and bopping about to the Latin stuff the DJ was playing at the end too.
Right, got to get my shit together for the gig tonight at The Spitz with Hot Chip. If you can’t keep it real, just let it go.

Posted May 12, 2004 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

The Birthday Address: Reduce Wrinkleys.   Leave a comment

They sent me this because they knew it was my birthday:

After the age of twenty-one, your body slowly stops releasing an
important hormone known as Humawn Growth Hormone.
The reduction of Human Growth HormIone, which regulates
levels of other hormones in the body (including testosterone,
estrogen, progesterone, and melatonin) is directly responsible
for many of the most common signs of growing old, such as
wrinkles, gray hair, decreased energy, and diminished
sexYual function.

Houman Growth Hormone

– Boost your immune systeLm RufZNwrl xbNLvjq
– Rejuvenate your body and mind ZjTXyLYh TpEoZD
– Feel & look younger ELvYQuMn MZKNN
– Reduce wrinkleys, lose weight, decrease cellulite iZOtiIf TveOnv
– Restore your setx drive and vigor EuXtgrhY LUmATY
– Revitalize your heart, liver, kidneys & lungs nTwyHlHQ VLzqQ
– Maintain muscle mass nGlTjHFt NYAMKu
– Refresh memory, mood and mental energy aknZ zXwXEIE
– Sleep soundly and awake rested vFqUWiiD wRMdyg
– Help eliminRate stress, fatigue and depression wHFhcGrqF RncPRK

Read for more information

unpLimW tPrkD wJJngqU ntAHKgzZ toRUJ gjxpxtImL VQtFCwK
TqamRHYY hYhx PctXlGm JaXYL ROUxqqi kIjzBQyA ZwHxm

I was going to do a special birthday address where I railed against the average person’s ignorance of or lack of appetite for weird-but-good music, but the whole thing is so depressing that my fingers can’t be bothered to type it. The thing that gets to me, or one of them, is that when I play music on the shop stereo nobody ever comes in and goes “hey, I love this album” or even “what is this? I’m intrigued” and it’s not as though I’m always playing something forbiddingly obscure. Most of the time its pretty safe stuff so I don’t get into trouble for frightening off the customers or interfering with their purchasing patterns. Examples would include, say The Magnetic Fields, Dollar Brand or Anne Briggs, or in case you think I’m trying to out-taste you, the first World Party record (I was in love with this girl once and she played it a lot y’see). I do actually play a lot of regular stuff that you would expect people to have heard before and maybe have some emotional connection with that would dissolve the social barrier between them and the tired-looking guy at the till and prompt a spontaneous attempt at human communication, but no. It astonishes me, for instance, that I can play Talking Heads in a busy wholefood store without anyone passing comment.
I dunno, at some point last week I suddenly got the feeling that my marginalized position in society was somebody or everybody’s fault but mine and a grand speech came into my head. I think I was in the shower. It was something that involved an analogy between fast food and corporate pop/rock/dance bollocks, which is a pretty well worn analogy I know, but there was a cleverer bit that I’m struggling to recall now. I guess I just think, genuinely, that weird music is good for you. No…good music is good for you. No…it’s like people seem to use music in the wrong way, like they consume it rather than…ahh…I know, you know, its obvious etc. Who gives a shit anyway, but I tell ya, when I’m king it’ll be Nurse With Wound at school assemblies, and so on and so forth. Fucking cunts.

I think its just because I had a birthday and it was shit. I understand the psychology of birthdays, and normally I force some sort of gathering on everyone and the day is duly celebrated in an honourable fashion, like standing up to a bully or something. I know these people who fear the birthday and hide away, sheepishly letting slip that they got a year older last week, or worse still organising at the last minute an awkward pub visit that people have to attend with the kind of reluctance that shows. Anyway this year I sort of caught that disease and felt myself getting more and more Eyore-ish until the day itself, when the weather turned dark, wet, windy and vile, and I sat alone in my room all day and didn’t eat anything apart from an apple and a few stale dried apricots. I thought that Pizza Express with my little family would cheer me up but Syd was over-tired and in constant tears and they gave us the wrong desserts and it was crap. However, little chinks of light in the blackness were provided by:

1. My parents’ cards/gifts, which I was genuinely moved by, which is a little unusual.
2. The moment where, as we pulled up in the taxi at the restaurant a small child, no older than 11 and probably younger, dressed in an outsized coat, suddenly materialized at the driver’s window and thrust out his arms and said “big hug!” like the Teletubbies do, with his face right up in the drivers’. He had this precocious look of insane humour too. Very funny.
3. As we were leaving the restaurant, rather wearily it might be added, I got the chance to sit in the lobby and watch the piano player while Sam and Syd went to the loo. He was this old dude in his fifties with a waistcoat and a red face, glass of chilled white on top of the piano next to his music, and he instantly de-stressed me like some sort of magick doctor. The stuff he was playing was yer typical meandering Cole Porter/jazz lite restaurant piano, but it was more his body language that made it enjoyable for me, because he was subtly swaying and bending and cocking and tilting his head, as he negotiated the score, like he had only just enough skill to play it, but that didn’t make any difference whatsoever to the amount of fun he was having doing so. You could tell that he was absolutely in his element, and that being paid was only a bonus on top of the joy it gave him. I couldn’t help wondering if the other unseen parts of his life took more effort and gave less pleasure, because he seemed to be really drinking deeply from the cup as it were.
4. After more re-stressing associated with bathtimes and bedtimes (“why is daddy quiet?” Uh, that’s helpless rage kiddo.) I came back to mine where the Egg brothers were getting cheerfully wasted, so I hosed down my middle-aged pain with teenaged fucknedness one more time, and it worked.

Posted May 5, 2004 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized