Stiff Little Fingers - Ulsterior Motive

I was in the kitchen doing the washing up a few nights ago while listening to the Mark Radcliffe show on BBC Radio 2 when this track came on. I quickly reached for the record button on the stereo and have had the song going through my head ever since. I’ve never been a fan of Stiff Little Fingers or the punk wave as a whole (it was a bit before my time in any case!), and am generally unfamiliar with their work, but this particular song, their acknowledged magnum opus certainly strikes a chord. No pun intended.

The song is fast and furious, capturing the disaffected mindset of a bunch of angry young men growing up in 1970s Belfast. But were they the genuine article? In a series of public spats with another well-known Northern Irish band who emerged from the punk scene of the late ‘70s, The Undertones dismissed them as a bunch of middle class boys from the suburbs who’d never been in a riot in their lives and were basically exploiting the political situation by writing songs about things they knew nothing about. Similar accusations have been levelled at southern bands like U2 and The Cranberries. The Undertones studiously avoided this subject in favour of teenage kicks, mars bars and perfect cousins, but weren’t exactly popular in their home town. There’s the old joke about the three most hated groups in Derry - the RUC, the British army and the Undertones. A classic case of Derry begrudgery perhaps?

Getting back to Stiff Little Fingers (after many hours at this keyboard that could have a quite literal meaning), the fact that Alternative Ulster’s still being played on the radio after almost 30 years must have some significance. With all the heated debate about sports teams and national anthems (just check out the football-related threads over at Slugger O’Toole!), maybe this song should become the official anthem for the Northern Ireland soccer team at Windsor Park. And before anyone raises the old “what about Cavan/Monaghan/Donegal?” issue, be fair – “Alternative Six Counties” or “Alternative two thirds of Ulster” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, now does it?

Whatever happened to the Zeroes?

The above heading refers of course to the decade we're currently living through which so far has been true to the old Chinese proverb "may you live in interesting times". The pun is on a song by the 1970s pseudo-punk band The Stranglers who by the sounds of things were also living in interesting times back then. The reason this particular ensemble was on my mind was because I acquired a CD of their best-known works which came free with a Sunday paper. I often find myself buying papers I would never normally read let alone buy simply to obtain the complementary CD or DVD which seems to be the trend these days. This particular publication was a salacious tabloid with plenty of scandal and gossip, but very little in the way of news. This mattered little to me as I could scan through it in 5 minutes then dispose of it (in an environmentally eco-friendly way of course - although having said that huge swathes of forest could be saved from the axe in the first place if such rancorous periodicals ceased publication altogether, but that's a discussion for another day) and subsequently enjoy the CD for years afterwards.

It seems that The Stranglers were ahead of their time as demonstrated by one of their greatest hits. Back then when the current Prime Minister of the UK was a mere long-haired student activist protesting against Apartheid and showing solidarity with disgruntled miners they predicted a barrel of laughs under his prime ministerial tenure - "Never a frown with Gordon Brown" as the chorus goes.

The zeitgeist continues into the next song on the collection which seems to be addressing Amy W(h)inehouse - "Strange little girl where are you going?"

Interesting times indeed.

Let it lie

“You wouldn’t let it lie!” was a catchphrase made famous in the 1990s by the comic duo Reeves and Mortimer. I heard a rap on the radio this morning which used a sample from Bach’s Air on the G-string as background to the awful lyrics. The Bach tune is a classic composition which found fame in the 1980s as the chilled out theme tune to the Hamlet cigar ads on TV. You don’t see cigar ads on TV any more, which is probably a good thing, but what irritates me is that contemporary manufactured music constantly ruins classic tunes by using them as samples. The cinematic industry is committing a similar felony by making totally unnecessary remakes of classic films. What was the point of the recent remakes of The Wicker Man or Alfie? Two gems of cinema which were a product of their time and starring actors of the day in their element. I haven’t seen either of the remade versions, nor do I intend to. For the sake of future generations who want to appreciate good cinema and music this defilement by cashing in on the success of the original has got to stop. Here endeth my rant for the day.


The one that got away
I was alerted to this quite amazing clip on YouTube recently. Although it’s quite long at 8 minutes, it’s worth watching in its entirety. It must be a one in a million event, a bizarre chain of events – Although apparently shot by an amateur, it must be every wildlife film-maker’s dream.

CD Review: Marillion - Somewhere Else - Please come back Fish!

An article in the review section of a leading Sunday paper notes that 2007 in popular music circles has been labelled the year of the comeback. The Police are back on the beat and stinging a generation of middle-aged fans into reliving their youth with every breath they take, The Eagles are re-checking in to Hotel California, Rage Against the Machine are raging against the machine again and gothic blasphemy merchants The Jesus & Mary Chain are rising again on the third day. Oh, and staying with the biblical theme, Genesis are being rather irritating too.

In the film world Sliced Alone has recently re-entered the ring in a risible comeback by the 60-year old boxer Rocky Balboa. The Italian Stallion should have been sent to the cat food factory years ago. I haven't seen the film, but I imagine that like its predessors it would be quite entertaining to watch if seen as a comedy.

Marillion - could do better

Another band who have been around for a very long time, but stubbornly refuse to go away, despite coming in for much criticism - not to mention ridicule - are Marillion. Although their glory days of the mid-80s are long gone, and few people under 30 will have even heard of them, they've consistently managed to churn out a half-decent album every few years and even secured a rare top 10 single "You're Gone" (how appropriate) in 2004, even though it was the result of a deliberately orchestrated internet campaign in which their website urged every fan to buy three copies, thus artificially inflating sales, but there you go.

Marillion's latest album "Somewhere Else" however is a definite disappointment. There's nothing new or innovative there at all. It's as if they've just recycled their old material and re-named the songs. There's the usual U2 style moralising ("The wretched of the earth exploited by the rich few/What's new?"), the pseudo-intellectual philosophising ("Better to be a doctor or a man who walks the earth/Hedonistic laughing boys/What's any of it worth?" or "There's no such thing as owning something/It's all borrowed for a time") and the surreal - "Mr Taurus ate a thesaurus, Made the girls cry and skipped stright to the chorus". How appropriate that Taurus is Latin for bull. And of course there's the obligatory prolonged 7-minute prog rock epic track, a concept that's wearing rather thin these days.

The sleeve design is woeful. One undeniably good thing about Marillion's early years was the elaborate art work on the album covers, now very much consigned to the wastelands. I don't want to give the lads a rough ride, but they've got thick skins considering all the crap they've taken in the past. however "Somewhere Else" seems like a lazy effort with little thought or creativity within. The name of the album could well have been inspired by the question "Where are they now?". They can do better than this. Almost 20 years after his departure, maybe it's time Fish re-joined the band.
A case of swimming against the tide?

The Pogues, Brixton Academy, 21 December 2005

It was a mild, dry night in Brixton, not the "rainy night in Soho" as the song title would suggest. Still London is London, Christmas was just around the corner and the Pogues were back with their so-called "definitive" lineout to play a series of sell-out "home town" gigs. And the busker at the tube station was playing Fairytale of New York on the saxophone - a forestaste of what was to come - or at least I hoped so. As I neared the Brixton Academy the ticket touts and t-shirt sellers were out in force. The latter even seemed to be doing a brisk trade despite the time of year.

Support band the Dropkick Murphys got the audience sufficiently warmed up with their highly energetic blend of hard rock and traditional folk.
Their own heavy speeded-up versions of old classics like Wild Rover and the Fields of Athenrye went down a treat, serving to whet the appetites of the punters for what was yet to come.

Shortly after 9 pm the Pogues came on stage to rapturous applause. The inimitable Shane MacGowan followed his band members and made his way centre-stage in sunglasses and the omnipresent cigarette protruding from his lips. He soon lost the shades, but the weed remained firmly within his grasp, throughout the show with the toothless wonder taking advantage of any instrumental passages to sneak a quick drag or two. Streams of Whisky, McGowan's tribute to his hero Brendan Behan made for a lively opening song. The band then faithfully ploughed their way through the back catalogue of old favourites in a flurry of tin whistle, accordion and banjo for the next two hours or so. They even did a couple of tracks from the post-MacGowan era as if to give the frontman a much needed break from growling and spitting out lyrics to familar tunes. His voice largely ruined from years of alcohol and tobacco abuse and the small matter of a few missing teeth certainly ain't what it used to be - not that he ever had the voice of an angel to start with - but the magic touch was still there. With hardly a song the audience couldn't join in with little did it matter anyway.

Plastic pint glasses from the overpriced bar constantly flew over the heads of the punters as if to complement the abundance of plastic paddies in the largely youthful audience, many of whom were still in nappies during the Pogues' heyday in the late '80s and early '90s. The party atmosphere was not unlike that a of a pub in Kilburn or Holloway Road on a Saturday night. Despite the band's Irish credentials there was no doubting that London was their home town, the place where they cut their teeth playing in smoky bars and on street corners, the town they love so well, the place they play best in. And the audience seemed to know it. One only had to listen to the songs Lullaby of London, White City, The Old Main Drag ("When I first came to London I was only 16...") and the aforementioned Rainy Night in Soho.

Towards the end of the show it was finally time for the moment everyone had been waiting for - the obligatory rendition of that Christmas song. The young woman filling in for the late lamented Kirsty McColl did a splendid job, her dulcet tones contrasting with MacGowan's growling rasp. The duetting pair even performed a dance together on the stage, managing to fall to the floor in the process much to the mirth of the assembed throng. To add to the festive theme bucketloads of fake snow gushed forth from the ceiling.

Other notable crowd favourites to get the congregation wildly jumping around included Sally McLennane, The Irish Rover(not quite as good without the Dubliners though), The Sickbed of Cuchulainn, Thousands are sailing (with Phil Chevron taking to the mike for his own composition) and at the very end the lively Spanish inspired quasi-sea shanty Fiesta with the guest quartet of two trumpeters and two saxophonists in fine form. I was disappointed they didn't play A Pair of Brown Eyes, one of my personal favourites, but maybe next time...
A good night was undoubtedly had by all and as the crowd melted into the Brixton night the singing continued on the tube journey home. For quite some time.