I Hate Music
THE BE GOOD TANYAS (like hell I will)
In the film Candyman you needed to say the name of the films bogeyman (and particular nasty sixties kiddies song which is much more horrific) six times in-front of a mirror for him to appear. To invoke me all you need to do is mention my name once. In a faux-comedy way. In your band name and I’ll be all over you like a those blotches you get from stinging nettles when you fall into a patch of stinging nettles and get stung all over. Much like I am all over the Be Good Tanyas.
Be good? Why – as an enticement that is not far off saying Be Excellent To One Another – a philosophy thought up by two heavy metal fans as the route to ultimate peace in the universe. And why exactly are these winsome (losesome) Canucks telling me to be good? Obviously because they know that their brand of souped up bluegrass with country stylings is exactly the kind of wishy washy folk nonsense that will whip me into a lather. Folk music is surely a misnomer. Folk is another word for people, and there is surely nothing more anti-social than the sight of someone whipping out a banjo. I was all set to enjoy duelling banjos in Deliverance until I realised that this was not the kind of duel which ended with one musician six foot under and his instrument smashed into pieces.
The Be Good Tanya’s are hitching their trailer (trash) to the post-“O Brother Where Art Thou” bandwagon of interest in this most correctly maligned form of music. Surely any music where it is in your interest to have a cleft palate and generations of inbreeding is not going to be sophisticated. The values in bluegrass are all about homespun wisdom and respect for your homeland. In which case I suggest you stay there and look at the lovely mountains of Virginnie and maybe go climbing there too. I’ve got some special pitons you can use.
I have no time for these women and frankly they can stick their mandolins up their oh so other-worldy fannies for all I care. After all -according to them “the littlest birds sing the prettiest songs”. That may be true (though I dispute that pretty can ever be used to describe songs of any form) but they are also the easiest to kill.
IHM APPOSITE BAND NAME OF THE WEEK: The Blockheads
Narrowly beating out The Dum-Dums at having the most fitting band name, The Blockheads managed to pick on a fizgog which summed them up to a remarkable degree. I would always hate them of course, since not only were they were musicians but they were that particularly vile branch – technically accomplished musicians. Your average pop musician tends not to practice too much, right realising the more he hears his own painful playing the less he would want to do it. The TAM is so evil and vile that he wallows in mastering his instrument – even if it is the saxophone.
The Blockheads were also vile for almost inventing Jazz/Funk, and certainly responsible for smuggling it into the charts when everyone was distracted by their polio stricken lead singer. Now I have no intention of beating about the poor figure of Ian Dury with a rythmn stick, or even a shitty stick – leaving that for another time. Just to say though that his voice was like hearing Marvin The Paranoid Android made out of sandpaper on uppers. Certainly the one thing a bunch of technically accomplished musicians would not want over their oh so clever licks was a man making crap puns and swearing like a five year old. Instead they firmly tied their flag to the rusty ship that was Ian Dury so much so that they are still peddling his tunes whilst he has gone to Davy Jones locker (if only Davy Jones would). The only difference now is they let comedians like Mark Lamarr or Phill Jupitus take the role of court jester more undermining them and this so called great body of work.