13
Oct 00

JAMIE WEDNESDAY – “We Three Kings Of Orient Aren’t”

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JAMIE WEDNESDAY – “We Three Kings Of Orient Aren’t”

This ill-advised week of wank ™ comes to its hinterland now as we enter the not oft sung about days of the week Wednesday and Thursday. This could well be because many a pop star is making love by Wednesday – not for the sultry reasons that Craig David’s “7 Days” suggests, more because there is nothing much on the television. This lack of songs though make Wednesday and Thursday easily my favourite days of the week. Note that my updates rarely come on these two days, because I am too full of the joys of not hearing any music that my embittered rage can be with-held. Its only Thursday night when the gin proportion of my body is raised to near equalling blood levels that some fool suggests we go to a club – and the lure of more alcohol just wins over the horror of facing loud, pumping music.

Last nights horror was within an indie club – the idea being that if I was going to have to listen to music it might as well be one dimensional, four to the floor, meaningless lyrics, homogeneous crap. That said, when they played a Carter USM track I went into one of my occasional music triggered fits and was in a pretty bad state. Of course no-one else in the club could tell the difference between my grand mal and the ridiculously over aged indie kids dancing, so I was left to seize in the corner for half an hour. I shall reserve full judgement on the Unstoppable Sex Machine until a later date (don’t want to get mouth foam on someone elses keyboard) but they do give both a nice link to Tuesday’s record and Wednesday’s band.

I do not think that anyone can deny that the lyrics “Goodbye Ruby Tuesday/Come home you silly cow” do very little to educate or illucidate the problems of child and spousal abuse. Yet the two man-children which made up the band pushed this aspect of “After The Watershed to the exclusion of its other qualities”. Those other qualities being appaling puns, wholesale theft of lyrics, lumpen tune and shouting. The only plus point of any Carter track was its nice and crisp percussion, which finally brings us to Jamie Wednesday.

Y’see before Carter there was a band which had all the rubbish members of Carter, and replacing their good members (the drum machine) with real, live human fools. The lyrics were as appalling, just the rythmn section were terrible. And they released one single whose title today brings a chill dread to my heart. You thought comedy titles were dead, well meet the song that killed them. “We Three Kings Of Orient Aren’t”. Let us examine said title. There were not three members of Jamie Wednesday. They were not kings. They were not from either the orient (for which read the inscrutable east in the simplistic South London mindset), or from Leyton Orient – football team of the East London region served by the Waltham Forest borough. So the song stressed three things which the band blatently were not. You get the feeling maybe it came from a back of a beermat discussion in a boozer.

Why not be proactive Jamie, why not say what you were. “We Five Talentless Fuckwits Whom Two Of Will Surf The Zeitgeist Of The Worse Downturn In English Pop For Two Years But Who Will All Be Queueing For Our Dole Money In The Peckham Job Centre By The Year 1998. ARE”. Works for me.

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