Posts from 22nd January 2003

22
Jan 03

KOMATROHN – “Mirrors And Chrome”

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KOMATROHN – “Mirrors And Chrome”

Simon Reynolds pointed out last year that neo-electro bands were busy making tracks not songs, which meant they didn’t ever really hit the heights of their 80s forebears. And Ronan Fitzgerald pointed out last year that tracks would do him nicely thanks and what was all this ‘eighties’ shit anyway? Between them they’ve put up a most comfortable fence and I intend to keep sitting on it – Komatrohn’s “Mirrors And Chrome” is about as songy as these records get but listening to it just now it’s still the bass I vibe off.

Komatrohn’s song-template seems to come from Visage – the same marble and crystal keyboards, the same detatched but hungry scene-voyeur perspective, the same European rhythm axles and pop-song chassis. “She wears hair just like Limahl / She is posing like she’s seen / Famous people in magazines”. It’s ludicrous. It might even be a pisstake, I don’t know. It might be a pisstake on people who want it to be a pisstake. 1980 New Romantics were ludicrous too in what looks now like a weirdly innocent way – maybe they wanted to turn the clock back to 1973, Bolan-Bowie-Roxy starworship, but all the stars were dead so they had to put the clothes on themselves. 2003 Electro kids want to smash the clocks and disappear down the mirror-lined rabbithole of bluff and counter-bluff, pose replying to pose. There is nothing whatsoever innocent about Komatrohn. Uncomfortable listening in a sense, but exhilarating too.

TASKFORCE – “Fugs R Us”

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TASKFORCE – “Fugs R Us”

It must be a couple of years now since Taskforce released the best EP yet made by any UK hip hop act, “The Voice of the Great Outdoors” on Lowlife. It was goofy, palsied hip hop set in wacky stoner countryside and outer space. The new single, “Fugs R Us” is smack in the heart of the city, and it’s Taskforce’s stab at the current Holy Grail of UKHH: the Club Banger. There seems to be a feeling that UK artists have the mellow head nodder sussed now, that the next leap forward (in profile and – crucially – sales) will be via the clubs.

Which clubs constitute ‘the clubs’, I don’t know but I guess the record succeeds up to a point: you’d probably nod if you heard it played loud. It’s big, glaring and heavy but it’s nowhere near their best. Despite funny lines throughout, it doesn’t sustain itself and ends up plodding rather than punching, what a shame.

I don’t know about them being thugs, either: “What you looking at? I’ll snatch your granny’s bag” doesn’t strike me with fear. Just in case anyone takes the hard talk (or the gunshots) seriously, the cover is film style and the song is subtitled “Is It Real?” I bet they’d be sly in a fight, but Taskforce are at their best when they make a noise which sounds more like the mildly unhinged product of too many nights indoors. They’re going to make an unbelievably good record anytime now.

In the meantime, if you’re looking for something to download, try “Cosmic Gypsies” (mentalcase rustbucket sci fi), “Butterfly Concerto” (stoner leaves the sofa) or their contribution to the Braintax LP, “Godnose”.

Under New Management!

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Under New Management! One thing we haven’t really talked a whole lot about here on the Publog is the tricky art of being a landlord. We can bang on about the decor and beers on tap all we like, but in the end it is the management who really give a pub its identity. Its unsurprising we have not mentioned it. The last twenty years have seen the big breweries and pub chains destroying the concept themselves. Removing live in landlords with managers, rotating from one Wetherspoon’s to another does have the effect of creating a homogenous pub style – something the chains are happy with. Unfortunately it leaves you with pubs which are perfectly competent but nothing special.

I mention this because the one thing lousy small pubs do when they change management is to happily exclaim Under New Management – as if all the woes of the previous regime will now be banished. But without actually explaining how this newness will change the pub it only really means one thing. If you were barred before you can go back to the pub.

PINK FLOYD – Shine On You Crazy Diamond (Parts 2 – 8)

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PINK FLOYD – Shine On You Crazy Diamond (Parts 2 – 8)

Anyone who has had the misfortune to listen to the Wish You Were Here album will be aware that this magnificent piece of (shit) work is bookended by Shine On You Crazy Diamond (Parts I-V) (Parts VI-IX). Now I am not going to mention the fact that this album only has five tracks on it, and that two of these are the same song. I’m not even going to mention the fact that the Floyd are so lazy that despite only having four songs they got a guest vocalist in for one of them. No – I am here to make a revelation of possible national magnitude.

I have found parts 2- 8 of Shine On You Crazy Diamond.

You see whilst the song goes on forever on the album it only has two verses. What I have found, scrawled in Roger Waters worst orange crayon, are the vitriolic lyrics which would have formed the final verse. Unfortunately it was exorcised by EMI lawyers from the song when they realised that even in his most drugged up state that Syd Barrett would notice that they were libellous.

Remember when you were mashed, You spent all our cash.
Fuck off you junkie bastard.
You spent all of our dough, for a half pound of blow
Fuck off you junkie bastard.
We are art school career boys
With mother fixations
We want to do prog rock.
So fuck off you user, psychadelic boozer,
Fuck off you skagman, you pothead you loser and DIE.

Now I have a conundrum. I am sure that if I release this barely cogent but somewhat nasty lyrics to the non-sexed fans of Pink Floyd I could easily make enough money to fund my campaign to destroy music properly. However by doing so I will be helkping prolong the legacy of Pink floyd, musicians. So after much debate I have decided to set fire to them, much like the man on the front of Wish You Were Here was both on fire in the picture, and the copy I stole from a Marie Curie Cancer Shop that I burnt. And then you will hear my madcap laugh.