Day 7: The Darkness
AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 LOUSY TUNES
I like to think of myself as a strong, capable woman. I have stamina. I can endure much. Why once I even fought my way through an entire stadiums worth of David Bowie fans to get to the front and throw a specially modified lollipop at him. It took him out for three months, which was more than worth it. But the last day, trapped in the solid blackness of this cargo container would be enough to break any woman. It would be, if that was all that had happened.
What with the darkness all over and around me (see note below to how repugnant this idea is to me), and just enough booze left in my body to lull be to sleep, I put my head down almost instantly. I am not sure how long I slept for. All I know is that was shaken awake by a calamitous crashing noise. The container, and therefoe I assume the boat, was pitching wildly in the ocean. On a number of occasions I was tossed against the walls of the container, and it was hard to remain on my feet. I could hear muffled shouts and screams from the Jonah outside, including some cursing of my name which I found most disconcerting. At least I did until there was another roaring sound and the wall of the container found my head almost instantly. I was too unconscious to be disconcerted at this point.
When I came to, the violence upon the container had ceased. Indeed all seemed much too calm, as even the quietest seas would not surely be this calm. I spent much time rapping on the walls, something which just seems to echo loudly around me and attract no-one’s attention at all. I have given up the rapping as a bad job (and indeed it is one of the worst jobs you can have, just below public executioner) because it sounded too much like a performance of Stomp.
I have had to come to the only conclusion one could draw from this solidity, silence and lack of company. My container was somehow thrown free of the ship and I have landed somewhere. But there is no way out of this container, I am firmly locked in. Will my intrepid journey end here, trapped in the darkness without food, or drink. Frankly a drink would do me.
The Darkness
Queen were taking the piss a bit. They were called Queen after all.
And yet The Darkness are like Queen but with supposed added irony. Where is the room for the irony. There is no room in the Queen bandwagon to even slip the slightest smidgen of irony down the back of the sofa. If a bands job is being the pompiest, silliest rock band on the planet – surely the way to go is to try and be more serious than them.
So let us suggest that this is what The Darkness are doing. That people only think they are being funny because that is inherent in the musical style. The singing high, the fireplace guitar solos, the stupid Sci-Fi iconography. Cheap, secondhand bollocks which are barely covered by a spandex jumpsuit. As opposed to Justin Hawkins’ bollocks which are clearly not covered by his silly spandex jumpsuit.
Permission To Land? Who granted it? A song about a scary East Anglian dog? These are not the things a pop career are made of. Get Your Hands Off Of That Guitar – Motherfucker.