PISS-UGLY GENERAL QUITS AS MATTER OF HONOUR.
It is a watchword of these commentaries, here, that there IS no business like show business, that the rampant, unstoppable epidemic of largely talentless broadcast exhibitionism which has poisoned post-war society is both the herald and the instrument of Ruin. On the tube, Pink Floyd's sixteen channels of shit on m'TeeVee to chose from have metamorphosed into a non-stop, multi-portal, planetary cesspit, it's surface creeping up around our necks, it's barrel-scrapings, its turds of wisdom lapping around our chins; cruelty tevee, shopping teevee, cooking teevee, house teevee, gambling teevee, the more of it there is, the worse it gets.
Well, itsa one for the money,
Two for the money,
Three for the money
Now Go, cat, go
But don't you
Step on my Blue Suede Shoes.
CLOSE YOUR EYES AND I'LL KISS YOU
How the Beatles destroyed Rock 'n' Roll.
Like many, they were overawed, the fab mopsters, by the Minessotan Dwarf, punchdrunk on his own imagery of collision, his own fricasee of easy chordings and hammerings-on, Dylan did more, suggested more, accomplished more with a guitar, a mouthharp and a formidable, burglar's intelligence than these four did with their Gretsches and Rickenbackers, the Hohner Violin Bass, their harmonies and that dumb fuck, up the back, the luckiest Scouser in history, banging on the drums, shaking his head.
McCartney almost once said that they kept Ringo on because he was so stupid, came up with odd wordplays, Howyadoin Ringo? resulted in the simian growling, Oh, I feel like I've had a hard day's night; the creativity of enforced, cloistered co-habitation resulting, in the nursery rhyme number one worldwide hit.
The Beatles historical perspective was terse and limited to the USA of maybe the forties and fifties; McCartney derived a bigband sensitivity for arrangement and harmony from his dad, Jimmy, but mainly the Beatles, in Hamburg, covered US R 'n'B and the great, the maestro singer-songwriter, Chuck Berry.
Dylan tapped into all sorts of shit. An American Russian Jew he had listened to everything, country, rockabilly, swing, jazz, country blues, urban blues, bigband and that amorphous mass, folk-airs from Scotland and Ireland, ballads from England, spooky nigger hollers from Mississippi, Everly Brothers' Kentucky harmonies. louche, funky, shake-your-moneymaker twelve-bars from Chicago, Howlings and Lightnings and SonnyBoys; Hank Williams poorboy lovesongs, hobo talking blues and railroad songs from the Depression, Rebel and Yankee tunes, Steven Foster......Lennon and McCartney, by comparison, were popular music illiterates.
But never mind that, they could do harmonies .......We've heard a lot here, recently, about the harmonies of the Copper Family, unaccompanied English rural songs, in which the voices embellish themselves, each other, with nary a squeezebox or fiddle to be seen, just the voices weaving in and out, around and around, reeling, almost, and a-rocking. Well, the Beatles' very first hit, Love Me Do, was remarkable for its harmonies as well as for the almost Elizabethan useage, not Love Me or Do Love Me but Love Me Do; almost off-key.
Both anthologies of the work of mr ishmael and his young Polish friend, Stanislav, Plumb Cheap for You: Honest Not Invent and Vent Stack - are available to purchase for mere money at Lulu or Amazon. It is cheaper to buy from Lulu. Here's how to buy your own copies:
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|Y'know that Hancock? says the toilet, chattily, I used to have 'im in the cab, here|
|She's a winner! Doesn't that just take the biscuit?|