Mountain Dew- An Invite Only Modern Fable
Mountain Dew- An Invite Only Modern Fable
There once was a Mountain Dwelling Recluse whose close friend was a little wolf named Cole. At some point every day he turned on his old fashioned, stained gramophone and would listen to beautiful music. Reverberating around his hovel, he would think about the joy of music in its endless variations and styles. Despite being a Recluse he had not always lived his life this way and in his past he made many good friends and after so long tasting the sweetness of solitude he decided on a change. It was long past time he brought the beautiful music he had loved so much to a selected crowd of friends and well wishers. And people from the far off land of some area named “Google". His noble wolf however would not be able to stay, as his dalliance with a Bear named Claire had produced an offspring. The little wolf went to mind his little cub. A talking and walking series of Fishbones offered his services on sound, this bony aquatic anomaly seemed to float between joints providing music and aural expertise. Crafty Canty, a local from a nearby territory where people went to feel good lost also pitched in to get this eclectic event off the ground. A fair Maire-den who is a SuperBlonde, was on hand for whatever else needed doing, while her father the legendary Jerry (whose Moustache was rarely stained with Latte) and her two other brothers, Ciaran and Shane, turned the location from family setting to festival ready. A Great Balloon Race was undertaken by various parties but the first to arrive got there far more quickly,Toby honest, by Karr. A Jollins Green (Cack-ie green) Giant also appeared, while a Chameleon came back to Life for the soiree. This was the power of the mighty mountain dew on the location. Ominous rain threatened on the day but spirits refused to be dampened as people travelled far and wide to the Mountain, led by an array of Grave Lanterns the Recluse had dug up to ensure no-one got lost in the silent musical darkness. Despite the presence of actual relations, the Recluse also extended his family to include more distant Relatives who sang sweet folky harmonies to all and sundry. Some other Man dola-ed out more harmony driven delight to the audience and it was clear looking at everyone, both Hymn and Her were Shaking and dancing in this case. Signal(s) were lost on phones (no-one could Ring Ian) but could be found on stage and is it any Young Wonder no-one cared about being without coverage, sealed off in this strange place? Next up was a sleepy rubber-band and like Elastic, oh Snap, they were good. Their inspired cover of You Only Live Twice resonated with the Recluse. He had now lived two ways, a solitary life and now one blessed with many new friends. "(Stevie) Gee, " he thought to himself, " Plenty of Mac-room in my life for many more of these events." The night was a huge success, a sort of watershed moment (when Water was still on that is) that united a disparate group in some rural excess. One band many looked forward to, in the end, could not play, one of its driving forces still loomed large over proceedings, lending his diverse talents to a few of the other performers. The band of his that didn’t play? Well I won’t make a Stink about it either way. It certainly didn't Alter any of the Hours the crowd had in a negative way. The final thought of the Recluse was that if he kept this sort of event going, year in and year out, well, he'd be on a pretty Sweet Jelly Roll. Authors Note: Congratulations again to Colm and his family on a great night. To many more!
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Suburban One-trick Blues
I love Bob Dylan and decided to write a sort of potted history of key moments in his career using "Subterranean Homesick Blues" as a template. For the record any ribbing is meant as utterly affectionate. It's Alright Bob (I'm Only Teasing).
Bobby's in his element making a new precedent he sure as hell isn't thinking about the protest movement man from Newport
Wire cut, pissed off
Said Bob's a traitor
Now Judas gone and kissed off
Look out Bob it's something you distort God knows why But the folkies sure got hurt better crash your bike down an alley way looking for time willing The fans in the Royal Albert Hall
wanted folk Zimmerman they got Bob Dylan Bobby in his neat suit Fans full of what the fuck? feeling in a rut
take amphetamines to strut Many later say, they were never that nay in how the band did play but that's retroactive hearsay Rumours from back in the day! Look out Bob next few years gonna be rough going do bad country stuff domestic bliss, you going to bluff but we will get the basement tapes stuff
you don't need the Jokerman to tell you that's more than enough Get married, get divorced Idiot wind such a force Ring them bells, ride that horse Some gospel stuff to endorse Try out Lanois, then Au Revoir Get burnt out, before really fail Fall ill, but then prevail Jack Frost produce, big sale Mumble in theatres, never ending tours in thousand seaters Get medals from world leaders Scorsese film makes him cool Bob then playing the Christmas fool Dylanologists, silly believers Watch the phrasing of his meters Now Tempest, far from his best Dylan shuffle, enunciating trouble Cowboy dressed, some verses he guessed but he's really trying "Aw Bless" Please the die hard, even when he don't try hard Don't download, buy the damn record 50 years of performin' he must be bored Look out Bob, they keep making you hip Better jump into self parody Masked by some senility give the audience mild hostility Keep on keepin' on while you still got mobility And rally against the censors On your never ending tour adventures The man will always work til the end of his mortality...
The House of Words
Like the corner spider unable to understand this city No qualms to the task at hand I'd swear your eyes looked empty. It was a long walk to this place where saints sit in eternal hubris and because these figures never speak their stories will remain forever side-less. A strange fate that does not sit well Something fierce in deeper nature across this patchwork Earth while the mind covets the souls stature. When we are compelled and until truly embraced, even though the tongue is the house of words it still can not explain its taste.
Review of Shane Meadows' film The Stone Roses: Made of Stone.
A piece I wrote for wearenoise.com on the Shane Meadows music documentary Made of Stone.
Judo Intellectuals
The crowd was going wild as the two combatants social circled each other ready to pronounce, if the chance presented itself. They began to chant the name of the younger fighter, an artist who was given the public tested nickname of Sugar Man Ray Leonard. Thing is he was called that because he was boxing clever. But that would do him no good. This was judo. The more experienced fighter was dubbed the Obscure as he had a plethora of knowledge that served him well in his previous matches. He had swiftly defeated Thesaurus Rex and the Hip-Ocrite was no match for his peerless learned off references and his relentless posturing. He bristled at his nickname, fearing some people would assume a thematic link to the band The Cure, a musical outfit far too well known for this individual to associate himself with. His coach stood on the sidelines, chewing on his stereo-gum mouthing the lyrics from a million Japan only released b-sides. He had prepared his fighter well but you never know where a heated conversation could go. In this world of Wikipedia as the ultimate training tool, fighters had it tough. Everyone was so well informed these days. As Sugar Man Ray unleashed a shaky but compelling treatise on the disestablishment of outdated draconian governmental ideals the Obscure felt his intellectual mettle take a bit of a knocking. Politics was a weak area and he had made the mistake he always did. He wasn't holding a liberal arts magazine in front of his face as protection. He began to sweat and looked towards the timer. Was it really the same round? It had felt like this particular period of time was stretching on as long as a contemporary art installation. The polymath just didn't add up. Following another well timed satirical swipe from Sugar it was clear he was struggling with his topics and lazily slurred a passage from Franny and Zooey in an attempt to steady himself. "That's as deep as you go Salinger-wise buddy? Pathetic!" his opponent taunted him. "Let me introduce you to my little friend Seymour.." Another direct hit. The Judgemental corner began scribbling in their moleskins and this fight seemed to be ready to Finnish like it was Apocalyptica. To be fair, in traditional judo punching isn't allowed but the other fighter had gotten in his punchy prose before anyone was talking about getting punches in. Things hadn't always been this way. He had loved to absorb cultural touchstones as a child for the sake of proper learning but it was when a teenage desire to "take on the system" had mutated into a smug 20-something hubris did he realise he had lost his way. What was once a Scott Pilgrimage for him had now become just another Ghost World of thwarted ideals and expressionistic graphic novels. And the fighting industry wasn't the same either. The "Psuits" had it all sewn up, in both meanings of the phrase. Obscure wasn't ready to just fade into obscurity that easily and with a well planted zinger on his opponents moniker. "You should be called Sigur Ros Leonard!" he got his second wind. But it was probably the first wind most of the crowd had heard of. He stepped up his game, readying his signature move, a complicated maneuver his critics had called "The Pullman". It was just an elaborate name for back-Philip that he'd poetry slam on Sugar but the timing was very important. It was his turn to taunt. "Stop hitting your Will Self! Stop hitting your Will Self as he spun his way around Sugar Man Ray he began spouting film reviews of of French New Wave cinema, adding some bland platitudes about a cultural Renaissance. His mixture of classicist film critiques before a swift super(upper)cut of famous film quotes and insults proved too much for his once formidable foe. "I always said I'd hurt you,"The Obscure said in a moment of faux sincerity to his enemy. " I told you I'm a fuck up who would mess you up in the long run." Sugar Man Ray conceded defeat, reasoning that he had a mean Left Agenda. "But then I lean on my left a lot too," he consoled himself. Retiring to his library just outside the ring he began to lick his wounds and apply for unrealistic environmental drives. The Obscure had won the day and perhaps garnered too much acclaim. He knew his career was over but he was going out in a big cult classic way. The Referee/Lecturer held up his hands to the build of an ecstatic crowd cheer. This was the crowd who had just minutes ago wanted Sugar Man Ray to truimph but they had quickly changed their minds. I think it's called backlash. "Well Educated Ladies and Thoroughly Well Researched Gentleman. I present to you The Obscure who is our new Noam Chom-pion!!"
Pre-Nups and the Pope- A Poem for Exit Strategy
A little while ago the talented duo Leah Hearne and Eszter Nemethi asked me to contribute a poem to their excellent genre-straddling piece of work entitled "Exit Strategy". It deals with the theme of people having escape plans from situations and aspects of their lives. Given the title "Pre-Nups and the Pope" and a loose idea of what the play was about I went to create something flippant and word play heavy. I tried to structure it a little like a song, even though I know that some of the phrasing would make that next to impossible but it's why I added a "chorus" of sorts and a "bridge part"! It was also to see if I could find enough rhymes for "Pre-nups". The poem, alas, did not make the play but I'm proud enough of it, so I present it here instead.
While some people like to see how things will play out, Others even at beginnings always have a way out, Despite a strong mind or any designations, People are resigned to their many resignations People will risk some damaged cred to escape from this, their marriage bed
But when it comes to leaving others get on their box of soap We all live in a world of half filled cups and those who mope a world of pre-nups and the Pope. You think half way through surgery the Doctor skips out? Or that a sea captain is in a hurry to leave his vessel once it ships out? It is a truism to sing that a winner would never quit Truer wisdom is something to which you must fully commit If people are ready to try and opt out Couldn't that be just nothing more than a cop out?
But when it comes to an exit some people just say "Well nope", We all live in a world of hang ups and those who can't cope a world of pre nups and the Pope.
When you make a promise you stick with it to the bitter end, If you're honest you shouldn't be quick with it to run out my friend Despite a Holy and divine Edict He was still able to resign that Benedict You think if Jesus had said "Anyone instead of me!" He would have been waiting around in the Garden of Gethsemane!
Of the human condition this is but a recurring trope Everything is a potential prison and we all look beyond our scope to see whats what's up in this kaleidoscope in this world of pre nups and the Pope
(Bridge part)
Following a Crowd, before ducking out A situation that is probably sucking out your time and your very own space When you were a kid, did you ever leave a race?
There should always been a safety net But bravery usually means "not safe yet" You're turning your back on faith, well that's just atheism You're running out on your country, where's your patriotism? It doesn't matter if you're a fool or a prodigy Everyone is after their very own exit stratey.
And we all in our various ways go through this type of thing in these precarious days We all walk the tightrope Don't look down at the sheer drops or the steep slope Oh dear, the pre nups and the Pope! Authors Note: Exit Strategy have set up a fundit to take their production to Dublin. Support it if you can here: http://www.fundit.ie/project/exit-strategy-to-dublin-fringe-festival
Love On Trial
Love waltzed up to the witness stand
He had nothing to hide, he was a legitimate
business man,
in a dapper suit, looking like a real beaut,
he took an oath on the bible, crossed his heart,
after a sip of water the cross examination could start.
The lawyer paused, his mind filled with thoughts
of old flames burning, nostalgia out of its box "Mr. Love" he stood as he began,
his tone the biased one of the celibate man,
"Tell the court what it is you,
as the embodiment of Love actually do?"
"Well," replied Love, with a strong baritone,
" try and make sure no one ends up alone".
"That dance in your stomach when you notice someone
Those days that look bright even in the absence of Sun
When you notice special people,
the ones that spin in a circle
inside your head.
The Chills, that's what I give you, it pays the bills
and keeps me well fed."
"So, you're a humanitarian, can turn the bookish boy
into a barbarian,
you inspire poets and the don't know its,
the dreamers, you give truth to believers,
Well Mr. Love you're caught out, if that's even your
real name which I very much doubt.
I propose you're a fraud, a money grubbing toad
who was making a living, of sucking people in
and you feel you'd sweeten the deal
by allying yourself with that man!
Let the record show, that I did and know-
lingly point to the month of February not Jan!
That both of you started to hope,
that if you schemed, you could be teamed
up and take, the money people make
with a dirty trick of telling folks,
to be romantic on this day more than most!"
Defence counsel objects, "This is a terrible outburst
it makes no diference, he hasn't the evidence
to back up his claims, alibis check out, I don't see any names
of people to support or refute, but I guess it doesn't hurt to dispute
but his argument is to his cases detriment
it makes him look witless,
your honour, please use your power,
he's badgering the witness!
and Romance isn't dead,
the bullet only grazed his head.
He's in a bad way, I think he's in a coma,
We'll have to wait see if the police locate
that blue Toyota.
There's no case here, they're in denial
I say we move to a mis-trial!" The Judge stony faced and taciturn
remarked "When it comes to love
even the scholarly have much to learn.
I don't know if Mr. Love is indeed
a co-conspirator in this act of greed.
If he and Feb got together,
to see if they could help one another,
but Love has made mistakes in the past
the crimes committed in his name are vast.
Then again the man has made such beauty
that even a old warhorse such as I am forced
to concede.
Romance was the first victim
but this isn't just about him
I say this to you Prosecutor.
Where was the defendant on the night
of the Valentines Massacre?!
Oh I've been a judge a long long time
but even I think this a heinous crime
and the case is a mess,
Let me consider the evidence presented,
is Mr. Love a good man or is he demented
I'll make my ruling after a short recess!" While I hate to end on something of a stiff clanger All questions of Love must invariably end on a cliffhanger...
M
the ghostly air between the cars
i checked the moon obsessively like a watch
legs like trees caught in a typhoon
my exhale hoped it would brush against your breath
my head never pounded, in fact it sang
something old, the thing that falls behind
cabinets
the letters that become too tangled
to ever write
the dreams that rise to be the debris
of the heavens
these things re-discovered through you
I felt like the lonely soul embraced
back into a fold
the most simple paradox
of returning but still arriving for
that first time
you leaned back with your legs coiled
hair swirled, words tumbled,
it was as if my iris stretched to breaking point
by the light of a thousand houses
but instead it was just a lazy gaze
my direction
amongst some greying figures
tiny stones that are strewn around
I dreamt I knew what to say
I dreamt your heart purred in reply
2 + 2 = 5 stars! Radiohead on TV!
New to the Spotify Channel While on tour with his band mates Thom Yorke is in a tour bus crash. Fortunately an Airbag saves his life but his bones are still seriously inured. Using the newest advanced technology a mysterious organisation known as the Karma Police rebuild him with bionic technology. Is he the new Six Million dollar man or just dollars and cents gone to waste? Lucky to be alive and assigned a plucky female partner, the earnest Ms. Honey Pablo, Thom uses his new senses to solve crimes while touring the world. Enhanced abilities, such as climbing up walls, innumerable calculations in his scatterbrain and with a new iron lung the melancholic singer fights for what is right and Just. This is: NEW YORKE, NEW YORKE Created by Donald P. Bellisario & Glen. A. Larson While generally fitter and happier this new agent codenamed, the King of Limbs, must face a plethora of new threats, bodysnatchers, the mysterious spy (over)dubbed the Creep and a criminal kingpin known only as Mr. Magpie. Has Thom become a super enhanced human or is he just a Paranoid Android in a shaky House of Cards? "Bullet Proof I wish I was." HE IS NOW! Episode 1: "Everything in its right place" Newly re-built and operating at pitch perfect levels Thom's first case involves protecting a child prodigy known only as Kid A from the clutches of assassin The Eraser. Episode 2: "Hail to the Thief" A case involving corporate espionage as an Electioneering process goes awry for a high up political leader plagued by a campaign informant. Thom and Ms. Honey resolve to not let down their newest client. Episode 3: "How to Disappear Completely" People are going missing at Radiohead concerts and Thom is optimistic he can solve the case. Will he need to call on his OK Computer hacker friend Idio-Tech to help him out? Episode 4: "Life in a Glasshouse" Abducted by a foreign government, Thom is forced into gladiatorial contests against Hunting Bears to test his feral abilities. (Part 1) Episode 5: "You and Whose Army?" Concluding part. Thom is liberated by army forces and must discuss his time in Limbo with a new psychiatrist a Ms. Sarah Treefingers. (Special guest star Bjork) Episode 6: " Fake Plastic Trees" The band find themselves in a mysteriously perfect town while promoting their newest album. What dark secrets are concealed in this town when the band go to sleep? Episode 7: " We Suck Young Blood" A Halloween Special as Thom faces an industrious vampire cult who are mass-producing victims in a warehouse packt Like Sardines in a Crushd Tin Box. Episode 8: "Amnesiac" Following an Amp explosion Thom loses his memory and joins Muse as a backing musician. Can the band convince him that anyone can play guitar for Muse and that he certainly doesn't belong there there?
Episode 9: "Jigsaw Falling into Place" The identity of the Mysterious Mr. Magpie is revealed at last as...Phil Selway!? Yes Radioheads most underestimated member has his knives out and attacks our hero. Episode 10: "Blurring the Lines" Part of Spotify Channel crossover week. The band tour with secret agent act Blur. An Al-barn storming action packed episode. Episode 11: "Where I end and you begin" Having long denied his feelings for Honey, Thom must find a way to serenade his beloved or be left high and dry when she settles down with her mystery fiance. Episode 12: "Exit Music (for a tv series)" The season finale sees Ed O'Briens career hang in the balance as Thom and Phil have a bitter fight that culminates in a Punch Up at a wedding... Honeys wedding to Johnny Greenwood!! Will Thom stop whispering his feelings for her and tell her the truth before it's too late? "No Surprises this is a show that won't make you sulk, as pleasant as a (nice dream) but with enough bends in the plot to keep you guessing. True love waits and it was worth the wait in this case!"- Tuning(in)fork (not affiliated with Pitchfork) Authors Note: This is a dedicated to Paula Larkin for her birthday! one of the biggest Radiohead Heads I know!
An Illuminating Encounter
Sam was sick of waiting. The woman on the phone said the Electrician could arrive at any time on the Monday between the hours of 9am and 5pm. That was his whole day gone. He had to book some time off work, which hurt him more in principle than anything. He couldn't have gone in any way, not with this hanging over him. He felt very unfulfilled at his job and it was the one place his ideas were never heard or nurtured. So Sam killed some time, reading, watching TV but in all his pursuits he was distracted. Afraid he would lose it, if some part of his mind wasn't constantly dwelling on it. At 1.43, there was a knock on his door. Cursing the low door ways of his house he carefully ducked as he walked through them into the hallway. "Hello Sir, "came a cheery voice from the Electrician as he entered the house. "I'd ask what's the problem...but I have eyes. I can see it quite clearly!" Sam didn't need to point it out. Over his head, a few feet up, hung a light bulb floating in the air but totally dead and dark, as if someone had turned it off. "I've had this all weekend. Couldn't leave the house and there was no-one on call til Monday, "Sam fumed, leading the Electrician into his kitchen. They both sat at the table. "Thanks for coming out though." The Electrician replied. "Thank you for being here! You have no idea how often I go out to someones house and there's no-one to let me in." "So like a false alarm?" "Oh yeah, I have to remove false alarms from people psyches all the time!" Sam poured a drink for his guest. "Alright Buddy," the Electrician bellowed, "Talk me through it." "Ok, last Friday night, I came up with this ridiculously good idea. We're talking a game changer. Well maybe. I'm a sort of a part time inventor and well I was really excited but then...well this happened. The light bulb appeared over my head but it was switched off. Is this common?" "Sure, happens all the time. You see people are...y'know...tentative with ideas. On like a subconscious level. They worry it mightn't be thought out enough, or sometimes folk are afraid that their idea has been done before. It all depends on how you're wired man." Sam was anxious. "I'm afraid to take a shower! I don't want to get electrocuted!" The Electrician looked in his bag. Rifling through it, it was obvious he was trying to find some thing. He removed various forms of pliers, voltage indicators and insulation. Sam's eyes widened at each new tool that was laid on the table. It looked like it was going to be a physically taxing job. Finally the tradesman found what he was looking for. "There she is, at fucking last." He placed a messy notebook on the table along with a chewed on pen. Noticing Sam taking in all the hardware he laughed. "Oh no. No! This isn't for your job Lad. My next job is a husband and wife. Their relationship needs a little bit of a spark after all these years! For you ,all I need is a notebook." Sam was unsure about this. "For real?" The Electrician began to put away the miscellaneous equipment before testing that the pen could write. He looked up at the poorly illuminated Sam. "Basically we have got to work through your idea a bit more. Flesh it out. And boom, let there be light!" Sam shifted nervously in his chair. "Um...well....I'm not so sure about going through my idea..." "Jesus man, I'm not going to steal your idea. I'm happy with my lot in life and plus I've been privy to far more lucrative jobs than this. I think I'll beat temptation here." For the next hour Sam outlined his great idea. The Electrician was taking notes. As a seasoned worker, he asked the questions that needed to be discussed to ensure the ideas viability. Despite his initial hesitation Sam enjoyed the process and even indulged in a little give and take about the concept.
Success! The light bulb over his head flickered to life and while it still remained that bit dim, it was nonetheless a nice soft light. "Ha, I wouldn't read by it, "The Electrician joked. "But as ideas go, it gets my volt!" Sam waved off the helpful Electrician, telling him he would have to be credited, should the plan come to fruition. "I'll just take the bill kid. It's my job!" Getting back into his van, he was dismayed to learn it would not start. "Fucks sake," he exhaled. "This is a state of the art vehicle here. It's meant to run on fumes!" A few more tries of the ignition proved fruitless. He took out his mobile and made a call. He was informed that it might take an hour or two for what he asked to be done. "Great, I'll just have to sit here then." He sank back into the drivers seat. "And wait for that damn Fumigator."
A review I did for Jeffrey Lewis and The Rain. To say I enjoyed it would be an understatement.
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