If there is anyone out there not aware of Emma, the Office Junior, and her increasingly time-consuming role in the fabric of the Blyth Power corporation, then we can assure them that her training proceeds apace, and so far we have been pleased to note that the old despot has been teaching her his songs. The other day she was heard to intone the word ‘La’ several times in rapid, but unrhytmic, succession. This cast our minds back to the far off days of 1985, or thereabouts, when the old tyrant could fob an audience off with that as a chorus, and spend the time he should have been writing a decent lyric down by the railway line instead.
Oh so many things change! First the old fool discovered the delights of gluing together little plastic aeroplanes – since when he never gets anything done, and now along comes Emma, whom he is so determined to cast in his own image that he wastes whole long days teaching her the letters A,D and E, which any discerning musician will tell you are the only letters you need to know to be in Blyth Power. No wonder nothing gets done around here anymore.
So that’s what has been going on. Porter reckons that after twenty years of wobbling about on a knackered old drum stool, he’s entitled to a few months off to rest and refit, and we are delighted to say that a newer, bigger, better, longer and stronger Blyth Power than ever before will be appearing at selected venues near you throughout the next two decades.
In the interim so much has happened. Despite war, hunger, terrorism and a plague of giant bats we were inundated with e-mails bemoaning the loss of John Peel. We put this to TDL. ‘The **** never played my records,’ he grunted. Miserable old sod.
As for the last caption competition, it’s been so long ago now that we utterly forget who the winner was – although it was probably John Hilditch. The answer was, of course, that they were all lines from the film Cabaret. Of course you knew. This time around we have one of the true legends of our time (well, Joseph’s time at least). Answers to the usual place, and the usual shrug of lofty indifference will be your sole reward.
I
Come A Looking For A Little Satisfaction
Ah the delights of power, and the abuse thereof! Not content with blighting
the young life of our own office junior, the old man has added a new
sin to his catalogue of beastliness - nepotism.
Regular Blyth watchers will recall that way back in the distant days
of yore (i.e. August) Bambi upped sticks and left to play full-time
for Eastfield. No doubt a wise career move, and we are sure he will
be having a simply super time. We should, naturally, have put the job
up for grabs, with a complete and balanced equal opportunities programme,
a full package of benefits, pensions and allowances, and a generous
salary linked on a sliding scale in line with inflation. We didn’t.
Joseph got his brother to do it instead. What a tosser! (The old man,
I mean, not his brother). Thanks to those who offered their services,
both permanent and temporary. We are pleased with the outcome, and confident
that the latest addition to the line-up is the right choice.
So, enter Jerry. If you were at Tallington for the Sunday morning session
this year, you would have seen him playing the Blyth set. He has hair
of varying hue, lots of tattoos and also plays for Jack, (alongside
the artists formerly known as Jackdaw Choir). Previous bands include
Valley Forge, and any amount of trips onstage with Blyth to strum along
on Guns of Castle Cary and Stitching in Time.
Hitherto a guitarist, Jerry has hung up his Gibbo in favour of a bass.
That he has a rather unkind picture of Britney Spears on his guitar
case has only marginally exacerbated the Despot’s trunch. Jerry
probably only got away with it because he is a full-blown, six-cylinder,
card-carrying train driver. Anyone trying to catch a train in the vicinity
of Gloucester are advised to take a long hard look at the driver. If
he has a bad haircut, a scattering of rings stuck through his head,
and a great big picture of Nemesis the Warlock on his left arm, then
you are probably looking at our man. That his significant other also
drives trains from the same depot can only bode ill for the commuters
of Gloucester and Cheltenham.
Of course, with Jerry’s weird shift patterns, and TDL’s
determination to blight young Emma’s life with his wickedness,
you may take it as read that Blyth Power won’t be doing so many
of those silly tours any more. You know – the ones that wind up
in Stoke on a Tuesday night. Band dates will be fewer and farther between,
but the Old Man and the dashing, youthful Mr Cooper are going to get
out and do more with Red Wedding instead. Anyone who has a problem with
that should jolly well start acting their age, and realise that gentle
lilting folk music is just the thing at their time of life, and that
the days of drunken cavorting at wild punk rock gigs are things of the
past. Not that there’s too much either gentle or lilting about
Red Wedding. Just wait until the be-suited avaricious agent has gotten
his finger out, and come and see…
Didn’t
We Have Ourselves Some Kind Of A Summer
Oh Maaan! It’s nearly solstice time again man, and I really ought
to get down to Wiltshire and freeze my cods off trying to get within
gobbing distance of a manky old pile of stones in the middle of the
night. Do people still do that? Some of the typing pool did apply to
the old man for time off to go down to Wiltshire and offer up a handful
of poo to the moon goddess Kali (apparently that is accepted protocol
amongst some branches of the Devil-worshipping heathens who go there),
but the boss said no, on the grounds that he regards it as a pile of
tosh, and that if he thinks that, then all his employees can jolly well
think it too. Mr Porter claims he is looking forward to the day that
Stonehenge is turned into gravel to put on nice suburban drives. Not
too fine, mind you, or the cats will foul it incessantly. That, he says,
is progress. That, he claims, is what history does when it is allowed
to flow unhindered by conservationists and time-wasting bleeding-hearted
woolly liberal conchie pinkoes. Clearly he’s back off the de-caff
again.
But summer was simply super, and we are pleased to report that Tallington
turned out to be the biggest and best yet. We turned up late afternoon
on the Friday to find that the available cricketing space was already
seriously diminished. Swarms of tents and vehicles continued to arrive,
and the annual ‘Most Ludicrously Huge and Sprawling Tent’
competition was once again hotly contested by the clans from Norfolk.
We were especially pleased to see the return of the lava lamp, which
we’d, fobbed some honest folks off with last year as a prize in
the raffle. How it avoided destruction in the cricket match is a mystery
to many.
Music on the Friday night was acoustic, and included Mr Porter opening
with a solo set, Mr Chris Butler, Jeeves, Wob, and Red Wedding. Hugely
conspicuous by her absence was the beautiful Rachel Pantechnicon, who
sadly had a tryst in Edinburgh, and was apparently whisked past us the
following morning in a shiny inter-city express.
Saturday found all kinds of silly stalls and side shows set up, Annie’s
‘Guess What’s In The Matchbox’ stand proved a winner
(ho ho ho), and many a child has now been turned into a dedicated gambler
by her guile. Mr Porter’s contribution was a bizarre underpants
flinging game, which also had him rubbing his hands all the way to the
bank. The firm has resolved to make even more silly things in future
to fleece the unsuspecting public, and we would like to hear from anyone
who would like to take it upon themselves to design and run a stall
next year. Someone out there must have access to a barrel and some sawdust
for Heaven’s sake? Someone must possess the rudimentary electrical
skills to knock up one of those things where you have to run a loop
along a bendy wire without ringing the bell? Do get in touch if you
think you’d like to be involved in the Grande Tallington Fete
2005. Cake stalls, bottle stalls – even one of those things with
ping-pong balls and goldfish (or carrots for the vegans). You know you
want to.
As for music, this started out with a debut set from Deep Fur, followed
by all kinds of gubbins and shenanigans. Jack played, Chris Butler did
a bit more, and Mr Porter ground away at his guitar to fill in time
while waiting for someone’s drummer to turn up. Mr Henry Lawrence
made an appearance and crooned a moving song about Lindy England, which
made the Old Man cry. Shortly after all this (though not necessarily
in that order) we broke for the cricket.
Not easy. There was a tiny space available in amongst the cars and tents.
It was just like playing on the grass verge back in Victoria Park when
we were kids. Even Harvey’s pep talks and tactical advice proved
too little. We failed to win the ashes for the second year running.
Boo Hoo. Next year, with any luck, there will be extra parking across
the road, which will allow for a bit more cricket pitch. In fact we
might have to jolly well rope a bit off next time, to make sure we get
a match at all.
Saturday night stayed dry, and all the bands were super. Blyth were
joined on bass by Spud, of General Winter fame, and we can’t think
of anyone better to have had playing bass on our twentieth birthday.
Very huge thanks for that, and a special thanks to all the people who
signed TDL’s cricket bat with birthday wishes. It was a nice gesture
and had it not been for his hardened, brutal mien, might have brought
a tear to his eye.
Sunday was super too. Pog, Anal Beard, Eastfield and Blyth played. The
sun shone. It was lovely, and new bassist Jerry made his debut. We aren’t
sure whether the orange vest that is customarily hurled at new members
will be appropriate in his case, as he not only has a whole locker full,
but a track safety certificate as well. Time will tell.
Before we change the subject and start trying to waste a bit of space
with irrelevant meanderings, we’d just like to apologise for the
gigs cancelled in late summer. This was due to circumstances beyond
our control, most of which were to do with the availability at short
notice of bass players. Blame Joseph, it was probably his fault anyway.
There will be some interesting events coming up in the New Year –
not to mention the weekend inn December when we get together in Lincoln
and Leeds to show off Steven and Jerry’s new tattoos. Lincoln
will be a good one, as New York Scumhaters are supporting (hurrah) which
means Ramones songs and rubber Bin Laden masks all round. Leeds will
find the band doing two sets, which should get pretty much everything
played in, but those of you who hate slow songs should be advised that
we will be playing Katherine’s Will – but probably in the
first set, so turn up late.
Randomband have a couple of festivals in the pipeline for us –
one still TBC at the moment, but it’s always nice to go and be
loud at a Folk event. Keep tuned and watch this space, though, as in
the New Year the powers that be are going to get their fingers out,
and from March onwards there should be some incarnation of Mr Porter’s
songs breezing through your county on a regular basis.
I
Write The Songs That Make Those Young Girls Cry
Ooooh ooohh ooohh nostalgia for an age yet to co-o-ome! Who was that?
Penetration wasn’t it. Well, they didn’t write it –
I think it was Pete Shelley wasn’t it? Better ask Fred Purser
WHEN WE GO IN TO RECORD THE NEXT BLYTH POWER CD WHICH IS NOW UNDER REHEARSAL.
Don’t get too excited. You know how we tend to overplay things
a bit when there’s not much happening on the news front. Suffice
it to say that the new syllabus given to Jerry to learn the bass included
a couple of the songs that will be going on the next CD, and tapes have
been issued to all band members with other material on it. The plan
is to try and get into Trinity Heights this year and record the follow
up to Viking Station, and the evil one has already designed artwork
for the thing, and given it a title – Fall of Iron. Apparently
it’s going to be part two of some kind of trilogy called Land
Sea and Sky. If only his elder brother hadn’t let him listen to
his Yes albums!
Of course the exact dates for recording do depend on two things. One
is the availability of Trinity Heights – which now Fred is back
in the saddle shouldn’t be a problem. The other is finance –
which is always a subject that sets TDL scuttling for his Airfix kits
in a desperate attempt to ward off reality. Invariably the cash gets
scraped together somehow, but anyone out there who fancies losing their
shirt on a dubious speculation may feel free to get in touch with this
office.
Material for this next opus will include a mixture of hitherto unrecorded
original songs, and some from both the Death Went to Bed CD and Going
Down with Alice. We’re very excited at the prospect, and think
we can make it even better than the last one, so there.
Just
Wastin’ My Time I Can’t Make A Dime
So! Now we come to the grubby bit where we try and sell you stuff. Hopefully
this will reach you in time to persuade you to buy vinyl stocking-fillers
for all those people you don’t like. Look. We’ve got tons
of the stuff… Actuaslly, that’s not strictly true. We have
about nine Pont Au Dessus albums, forty odd Goodbye To All Thats, Sixty
or so Better to Bats, and around three hundred Wild Card EPs. Add to
this the handful of sleeveless Barman LPs and there you have it. The
Blyth vinyl mountain. Anyone who wants to buy in bulk, then ring up
and negotiate. Give ‘em away free with your fanzine. Tile your
bathroom. We hate vinyl, and are glad the wretched stuff is now out
of vogue. Better not make anymore videos now too – they’ll
be gone with the wind before you know it. Are CDs still the fashion?
We hope so. We have plenty of those, as we’ve re-stocked Bricklayer’s
Arms, and the Red Wedding CD is now officially with us, and we are very
pleased with the result. Caesar is still lingering on, but we hope to
see the back of that in the New Year. Mouse Mats and badges are still
in stock, and we’ll be doing a new T-shirt before the gigs start
up in February, so get those cheques scribbled fast!
While on the blag, do keep sending in your used packaging material.
We’re running low after the seasonal rush, and we’d like
to thank all those who contribute regularly, especially Mr Simon Registry,
and Christine, for all the handy sticky labels. Keep up the good work.
It makes the old man flush with joy to see every copper saved. We try
to point out we’re doing it for the trees, but he thinks only
of the pennies he avoids spending at Stationary Box.
Perish
Is The Word That More Than Applies
Madame Chairman will be back in the next issue. Sadly lack of marbles
precludes any of her wisdom this time round.