Beau Peep Notice Board
Beau Peep Notice Board => Outpourings => Topic started by: Roger Kettle on July 01, 2007, 11:32:49 PM
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I was watching Reg Dwight on tonight's "Tribute to Diana" and trying to remember when I first started wanting to slap him. Maybe it was when he revealed he spent 2,000 quid week on flowers. Maybe it was that mind-numbingly awful re-write of "Candle in the Wind" where he scored out "Norma Jean" and inserted "English Rose".(How did he get away with this? How can you write a supposedly meaningful song about Marilyn Monroe, change a couple of words and pass it off as a sincere tribute to someone else?)Maybe it was that documentary which showed him berating airport staff for being within 20 yards of him.
I'm spoiled for choice.
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I loved the old Elton, the one who wrote Your Song (the music, anyway).
It seems that all rock/pop artists, if they survive long enough, inevitably reveal their Conservative Old Fart streak. The Stones are a bunch of right wing reactionaries, Bowie should be so embarrassed at his Ashes To Ashes video he will never appear in public again. Rod is now Mel Torme and Elton screams at foreign paparazzi like the old queen he is.
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I loved the old Elton, the one who wrote Your Song (the music, anyway).
It seems that all rock/pop artists, if they survive long enough, inevitably reveal their Conservative Old Fart streak. The Stones are a bunch of right wing reactionaries, Bowie should be so embarrassed at his Ashes To Ashes video he will never appear in public again. Rod is now Mel Torme and Elton screams at foreign paparazzi like the old queen he is.
I quite agree - the old Elton John was far preferable to the (current) old Elton John. I loved stuff like Rocket Man, Your Song etc.
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Ahem, who's Elton John?
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All good artists have a finite creative period when they are actually worth paying attention to.
After that, it's just a case of how much can they live off that period? This is why artists like Fleetwood Mac and Paul Simon (sorry Roger) have achieved the almost impossible, and had a rebirth. Fleetwood Mac with Rumours, and Simon with Graceland. Before that, they had become footnotes in musical history.
The Stones' last great album was Sticky Fingers, Bowie's was Ziggy, Elton's was Yellow Brick Road, and so on. I reckon that the great writers have about thirty great songs in them, and they are all spent after a couple of albums. Elton John did the clever thing and sprinkled his good songs over four or five albums. He hasn't recorded anything decent in twenty years.
McCartney has become a travesty. Both he and Lennon fed off each other, vampire-like, during the Beatles, and the residue was still there after they split. McCartney did one great album, Band On The Run, and so did Lennon, (Imagine) and that was it. In terms of creating good material post-Beatles, Harrison outdid them both.
The brilliant Alanis Morissette managed to record one of the best albums ever with Jagged Little Pill and I can assure you she'll never record another great album. I believe musicians gather all their material through their formative years and it's all gone in the first five to ten years. Morissette has nothing left in the tank.
I've done the clever thing and left my recording career until my fifties, so I still have a wealth of material ready to lay down, I reckon two albums worth, but unfortunately I'm now too old and unattractive to get a contract.
Unless I re-invent myself as a country singer, that is, but even then I'll need a stupid but memorable name. Just call me Hank McEnema.
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Dear Hank,
An excellent and insightful look into the world of music. The thing that saddens me about Elton John is that, like you, I thought his early stuff was good. Somewhere along the line, he turned into the ludicrous diva we see today---hosting million-pound masked balls for his chums while urging us to support his charities. I can recall nothing, musically, that he does done for about 20 years.
I'd like to order, in advance, both your albums.
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Good, I'll add you to the list. The list at present consists of you.
My first album will be called Cars Rust In Stuttgart and the album cover will be a large picture of a woman's feet.
This is because at the Magnum sports centre in Irvine around 1979 I drunkenly promised a bunch of mates that I would think of a stupid, pretentious title with a fetish photo.
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I'm forming a boy band, though I stress that members only need to pretend to be gay.
Up till now, our working title has been 'Vestlife', but I can now exclusively reveal we will launch in time for the Christmas Number 1 slot, as Pelvic Grind, inspired by the fact that three of us are on the NHS waiting list for hip replacements. The fourth member of the band has already successfully had his, and will be our choreographer, and dancer.
We still have a vacancy for a fifth member, and are happy to audition anyone here. You needn't necessarily be male, so long as you look reasonably butch. Malc, I respect your desire for a solo career, so I won't hold it against you if you don't apply. If it all goes pear-shaped though, you'd be welcome to sign up as a roadie.
We are also keen to sign up a few groupies to make tea and sandwiches whilst on the road. Naturally, these positions would be of a voluntary nature, but the rewards are obvious.
Rock and roll, pop-pickers!
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Count me in, Tarks. I am pursuing a solo career, but I see my involvement with Pelvic Grind the way Neil Young did with Crosby Stills Nash and Young, or Joe Walsh did with The Eagles.
I'm 10,000 miles away so I probably can only make one rehearsal in two.
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Can you walk mincingly, Malc (no offence, Mince!)? If so, you're in.
And don't shave off the beard - it'll help with the miming.
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Oh, and we'll try to arrange an Australian tour, just to make it fair.
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Oh I can mince, don't you worry.
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So that's it? The auditions are over? And I've perfected a goose step/mince which I call Goose Mince. AND I can mime.
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But can't you also play guitar, Roger? That kinda disqualifies you I'm afraid.
But, hey - the roadie jobs are still up for grabs. ;D
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I USED to play guitar before arthritis set in to my chord fingers. Oops. That doesn't really help my case for joining a boy band.
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On the contrary, Roger - how are you with spoons? We're looking for that gimmick to set us apart from the rest. We may just consider a six-piece band if your clacking is up to scratch.
Or you could be Malc's understudy should he ever miss his bus - I gather the resemblance is already there. Can you grow a beard?
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I'll get down with my funky spoons.
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I can't let this opperchancity pass.
I'm a wee bit younger than Roger, already have a fully paid up and licensed beard.
Know how to hold a guitar, and even played drums in a band for a song in 1977 (Alex Harvey's "there's no lights on the christmas tree mother, they're burning big Louis tonight" yeah, thank you Cumbernauld.
Voice is nothing to write home about, but if you were writing home I wouldn't want to be in your band anyway.
So there you go, an impeccable history, apart from the bits I made up.
;D
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Max, the Alex Harvey name-drop clinched it. Welcome aboard. I'm either going to have to rethink this as a male voice choir boy band, or I'll just have to be ruthless and sack a couple of the current line-up. It may be a blessing in disguise - Albert's knees may not hold out for another world tour (he's a veteran of several boy bands, including the Arbroath Smokies), and Theodore finds miming a little difficult with his new teeth. He's also got two young children to think about, as well as his fourteen grandchildren and six great grandkids. He needs a rest.
Rock on, Max - I love it when a Complan comes together!