Things To Do In England When You're Dead

When something new and amazing is either slow coming or slow to get acknowledged the industry likes to go back and revive the past, the ongoing posthumous success of rappers is a good testament to this. Now there are two music videos out from long absent, now resissued Aussie band The Triffids, and also another Johnny Cash promo clip.


Both Johnny and Triffids frontman Dave McComb are both real gone, as they would say in Mojo, and both videos tackle this problem differently. The Triffids are low budget and getting a full reissue promgram in the UK from Domino Records, and they've made a clip for Save What You Can, of the groups 1997 Calenture album. By this time they had abandoned their original sound and instead become produces of polished pop, which makes you wonder why this song was never released as a single originally. Without an overwhelming commitment to imaginative thinking the song has been paired to footage of New York Artist Steeve Keene doing what he does best, making many copies of the same painting at the same time without the Andy Warhol consumerism commentary.

The Triffids; Save What You Can

The Man In Black has a far better deal, he's got the following, the money behind him, and most importantly, an endless list of celebrities trying to attach themselves to his legend. It reminds me of the posthumous Joe Strummer video for Redemption Song, the one where they paint him with fliddy arms. Coldplay, Travis, Kid Rock and U2 representing Johnny Cash seems alien to me, and I'm sure that Kate Moss is in there to (She does seem to be everywhere, didn't the media despise her earlier this year?). Johnny said he didn't want the video for Hurt to become his epitath, but if he'd of seen this he may have reconsidered, because considering the songs he wrote I couldn't picture him being a fan of Travis, Coldplay, The Killers or Kid Rock, all of whom get their faces into this list of hacks. A better video would have shown the people whom deserve to get cut down, but then, I guess that thats what this unintentionally does.

Johnny Cash; Gods Gonna Cut You Down

Lets hope some mind expanding and original videos come out soon for people that are still breathing, or that if they insist on not letting Cash go to rest, they at least take something from the far better Personal Files.

It's getting harder and harder to find something to write, even with events such as another Motorhead gig and Gogol Bordello under my belt. I think I started to feel devoid of anything to say or a style in which to say it, but this has changed since discovering a new writing idol in the form of Lester Bangs.


Lester was perhaps the greatest rock critic ever, far more than a passing reference in an REM hit. His writing was that of a gonzoid music snob, he'd write contradicting articles about bands (Dismissing the MC5 is his first article, then later declaring them the best thing since sliced bread). He also wrote about the bands he loved, praising and dismissing them in turn. He could write endlessly about The Sex Pistols, The Rolling Stones or Lou Reed and The Velvet Underground, he highlighted that they where a product of their time and environment, that their bleak lyrics captured the soul of a collective half in love with death.

Till reading Lester Bangs I never really got Miles Davies, much as I'd of liked to. He was into Miles in a big way, he understood how to appreciate the sound you had to drive around Detroit, and that his experimentation and electronic dablings captured the feeling of an increasingly technological nation with people becoming more and more isolated from one another. I may never get to drive around Detroit, but knowing something like this makes up for that fact.

He also interviewed Jimi Hendrix from beyond the grave, spoke with Bob Marley in Jamaica before international fame and understood why The Rolling Stones meant more than The Beatles,
Heres some free advice, there are two Lester Bangs anthologies on the market, Psychotic Reactions & Catrburator Dung and Mainlines, Blood Feastes & Bad Taste.

But I warn you now, once you come to understand what it means to truly love music, to understand it, take it into yourself and to be able to understand the difference between a passing trend, a piece of shit and a stoke of genius, you can't forget it. This means a lot of crap in your collection is instantly out of date, it means no more Green Day and no more Kaiser Chiefs, it means only settling for the best because your celebratying the highest and holiest art form. These works will guide you on your own path where mediocrity simply stops being an option, and it means far few records in your collection. You know how they say that if you where Scouce for one Saturday night you'd never want to be anything else? Well this is the same deal.

Go take it all in, believe what you want and dismiss the rest, and then go spread the word.

Ever since it opened almost a year ago I knew I had to see The Ramones Museum, in Berlin. It's supposed to be great, with a good break down of the bands various eras and filled with loads of vintage Ramones memoribillia.

I'll be in Berlin in December, but sadly the museum is only open on Saturday and Sunday. I've e-mailed them asking for an extra opening, so fingers crossed.

If I hadn't already booked the flight there I'd of gone especially for the museum next Friday, November 17th, for the Joey Ramone Look A Like Contest. The idea of this is just fantastic, and I think I'd of made a great international entrant. I've been compared to the gangly Ramone before, and I find it far more flattering and orginal than the normal John Lennon comments, or the more recent comparisons to some Croatian striker who plays from a Scottish football team.

I think I'll have to spend next year in training, get myself a coach, then storm the event next year.

This is my first proper return to Dublin in some time, and the first time writing from the field for even longer. Ever the creature of habit my time has been spent revisiting my favorite bars, managing to fit in three trips to the undisputed best pub in Dublin, Whelans, two stops at draught Bitburger serving The Bleeding Horse and picking up a few copies of that exceptional and free magazine Mongrel. It was nice to be reassured that yes, Irish Guinness is indeed different to English Guinness (It has always been a different recipe, now they just make it here instead) and that 35.5ml measures make for far better value spirit drinking, Bob Dylans all around!

While its reassuring to come back to these delights there bad sides are still prevalent. There are still loads of homeless people in the city centre, and people pissing at the corner of every building, and when enjoying a beverage at The Barge you'll see a medical waste disposal box worth of syringes float past. Some scummer also vandalized the Phil Lynott statue, making off with his guitar and arm, hope they caught caught, possibly hung to. It also escaped me that I was arriving, at 9 Am, on a bank holiday morning, meaning everywhere was closed and the indigenous population far away. This was especially crushing to find out after walking to Burritos 'N' Blues only to find it wasn't opening for another hour (By which time I'd of become another person asleep in the doorway).

But its not all bad news, being here for Halloween meant I could see people who make efforts with a costume (This years winners being Hulk Holgan and Vikky Pollard in my opinion) and I managed to right last years wrong and be granted entrance into the diabolically bad Club M, where a pint of Bud cost over five bloody euros. An expensive place to go for one round, which I bought, and paid seven Euro on the door or the privilege.

My return has however given me a valuable insight, that I left at the right time and that I should resist all temptation to move back. This is a fantastic city with a vibrant mix of cultures who's historical significance hangs in the air, but it is a place where its far too easy to fall into a routine, drinking and eating in the same places while keeping the same mediocre job. Life here is so comfortable it doesn't encourage you to reach for something new.

Next time I come back it'll be as a tourist, bringing tourist friends and doing tourist things. No doubt this will mean drinking a lot more superior Guinness (While avoiding the latest in the Brewhouse Series, North Star, which tastes like stale English Guinness) but doing so with the advantage of someone who knows where all the best sites are. So it sounds like my next trip here will be a visit to Wexford Street.

My fourth gig in a week, life is certainly picking up. Also, its the mighty Motorhead, or as I quickly come to regard them, They That Can Do No Wrong. Every year I try see Motorhead as many times as possible, and each year I think the magic will not work, and I listen to less and less of the stuff before the gig, and well... It doesn't matter, they still do everything perfectly, as one would expect from a band well into their 32nd year.

As ever it's a case of "We Are Motorhead and we play Rock 'N' Roll", after which, the next two hours are a passing blur which does it's best to perforate your ear drums. As this was Motorheads first show in Ireland in two years the set was heavily based on the new material, no bad thing, and as ever hearing the songs live makes them come alive far more than they do on record. Old classics are included, and of course, as we're in Dublin there is a mandatory Thin Lizzy tribute, this time in the form of Rosalie / Cowboy Song.

Of course, I couldn't tell my brother the set list ahead of Sundays Manchester gig, but I have given him some clues. Identify all the songs and win a prize!

Rapier of Respect
Ferrous Fingers
Cemetery Polka
Story of Isaac
2yr old, possessive
Saddam Hussein Collectible
365 Liaisons
Fitz Lang, 1927
Holiday In The Sun
Force Without Authority
Neil Youngs 1980's Production Techniques
Thin Lizzy Cover (Ireland only)
Catergory A Prisoners
John Lee Hooker in a Brothel
PhD Paleontologist


This was the kind of gig where you come away with a warped mile stuck on your face, the kind that tells people your totally wired but straight at the same time. There is a part in Fear And Loathing in Las Vegas where Hunter S. Thompsan talks about waking up with a sore face from excessive manical grinning, although for him I'm sure it involved a massive amount of amphetamines, but it's good to have someone to relate to. As a final testament to the power of Motorhead I'd like to add, I went in this gig with a cold, when I came out it was cured.

Enough said.