Before We Was We: The Making of Madness by Madness (with Tom Doyle) (Virgin Books 2019)

 

LEE: Roxy Music were a big influence. Myself, Mike and Chris went to see them at the Rainbow in Finsbury Park when the Stranded album had just come out. We saw David Essex going in, with a blonde lady friend, and they were dressed to the nines. Our mate John Jones goes, ‘He’s got a bit of a flash car.’ He had some convertible Merc and I can’t remember if the roof was down or not, but I know we got in it. Inside, he had one of those new-fangled eight-track tape players. We thought, ‘Oh, they must cost a fortune.’ So, we ended up having several of his eight-track tapes away.

Then, we bunked into the gig. Supporting was Leo Sayer. I got on someone’s shoulders – probably Mike’s, because he’s tall – and hauled myself up onto a window ledge, because I’d noticed it was on the latch. As I climbed up and looked in this window, there’s Leo Sayer, putting his makeup on. He’s got that clown’s outfit on that he wore around that time. He had all the gear on and one red cheek. He turned round, and I went, ‘Can you let us in?’ He was like, ‘Sorry, I can’t.’ I’m going, ‘We’ve come to see you, though, Leo …’ Have we fuck! But he said, ‘I can’t, obviously,’ and I descended back down.

MARK: Lee always told me that Leo Sayer mimed, ‘I can’t let you in,’ in Marcel Marceau style …

A Song for the Dark Times by Ian Rankin (Orion 2020)

 

But it wasn’t his need to pee that woke him at 5 a.m. It was a call. He fumbled for both his phone and the bedside lamp, waking Brillo in the process. He couldn’t quite focus on the screen but pressed the phone to his ear anyway.

‘Dad?’ His daughter Samantha’s urgent voice.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, sitting up, growing more awake by the second.

‘Your landline – it’s been cut off.’

‘I meant to tell you about that … '

'About what?’

‘My landline’s not the reason you’re calling at this hour. Is it Carrie?’

‘She’s fine.’

‘What then? Are you all right?’

‘It’s Keith.’

Her partner; Carrie’s father. Rebus swallowed. ‘What’s happened?’ He listened as Samantha began to sob quietly. Her voice cracked when she spoke.

‘He’s gone.’

‘The bastard … ’

‘Not like that … I don’t think so anyway.’ She sniffed. ‘I mean, I don’t really know. He’s disappeared. It’s been two days.’

‘And things were all right at home?’

‘No worse than usual.’

‘But you don’t think he’s just – I don’t know – maybe gone on a bender somewhere?’

‘He’s not like that.’

‘You’ve reported him missing?’

‘They’re sending someone to talk to me.’

‘They probably told you two days isn’t long?’

‘Yes. But his phone just goes to voicemail.’

‘And he didn’t pack a bag or anything?’

‘No. We’ve got a joint bank account – I looked online and he’s not bought anything or taken money out. His car was left in the lay-by near the church.'

 

Never the Twain . . . but maybe sometime in the future.

 I've read 5 of them . . .  which probably explains why I'm now a political degenerate.

Let's wait awhile . . .

 

129/50

Round 512: From RM to VG . . .

 

Darts Thrown: October 8th 2020

Blog Written: October 12th 2020

Highest Score: 180

Lowest Score: 5

Sixties: 29

100+: 9

180s: 1

180s Missed: 1

Blogger's Note: Written in haste, so there will be spelling mistakes and slapdash grammar.

The blog's now in lockdown. Decided to put it on private. Will it now be more indiscreet and revelatory? Nope, it's not turning into an online personalized diary. I'm just now in the position where I no longer want it to be visible, but by the same token I'm not about to press the delete button for it.

Anyway, Blogger's a cunt nowadays. They've 'updated' the blog features and until I'm in a position where I feel comfortable with it -  and, it might be the case that I won't master - I will be hating on blogger for the foreseeable feature.

The darts? Yeah, write something about the darts. Hit a 180. Last throw of the round. I've yet to get back in the groove with the darts, but there's an improvement of sorts. Not sure if I'll ever return to those halcyon days of 180s every day. We will see.

Now for a random video. Looking up The Mekons on wiki to see if there's ever been a book written about them - so, I'll download it and never read it -  and stumbled across this rather nifty collaboration between Vic Godard and The Nightingales that dates from 2018. Never knew about it - and I go through Vic Godard phases from time to time, which means I'm annoyed that I missed it -  but a couple of listens in and I'm enjoying it. I was never much of a Nightingales fan. I remember reading about them in Record Mirror back in the day but I never ever heard them at the time. It was that period in the mid-80s when they were associated with Ted Chippington and We've Got a Fuzzbox and We're Gonna Use It, so they got a fair bit of coverage in RM despite the fact that they never sold any records. They are now getting the documentary treatment via - amongst others - Stewart Lee, who some kind of uber fan of a group that never sold more than 137 records. Eventually every band that featured in the Indie Charts 1984-86 will get their own documentary. It's written in the sleeves.

Back to the song. The Mekons connection is that Jon Langford designed the record's cover. Robert Lloyd sounds a bit like the bloke from Tindersticks, so it took a couple of listens for me to get into it.

Vic Godard and The Nightingales - Commercial Suicide Man

Round 511 - Turn it off, kids . . .

 

Darts Thrown: October 7/8th 2020

Blog Written: October 12th 2020

Highest Score: 140

Lowest Score: 7

Sixties: 28

100+: 5

180s: 0

180s Missed: 1

Blogger's Note: Written in haste, so there will be spelling mistakes and slapdash grammar.

Really nothing to note with the dart stats. Very much middle of the road.

Onto the music. Someone just posted this on Facebook, and I love it. The Style Council performing 'Long Hot Summer' on the long forgotten Channel 4 music programme, Switch. Despite loving Style Council all these years, I was never really much of a fan of LHS. I always thought it was a bit too lightweight - I missed the 'controversy' about the video - and I associate it with a shit family holiday in Minorca. (Other songs associated with that horrorday include Level 42's 'The Sun Goes Down (Living It Up)', KC and the Sunshine Band's 'Give It Up' and Flash and the Pan's 'Waiting For A Train' . That's a mixtape I'll never be compiling.)

Back to the video. I just like this version 'cos of Weller's dubby bass playing. It's just a nice wee change.

Long Hot Summer - The Style Council (1983) Switch, Channel 4.

Round 510: More than a flash in the pan (groan)

 

Darts Thrown: October 6th 2020

Blog Written: October 13th 2020

Highest Score: 140

Lowest Score: 3

Sixties: 25

100+: 7

180s: 0

180s Missed: 1

Blogger's Note: Written in haste, so there will be spelling mistakes and slapdash grammar.

Another middle of the road darts round. Need to hit more 100 plusses. At least I was throwing for a 180 for a change.

About Round 511, and the mention of that miserable childhood holiday and the music associated with it; well, I happened to check out Flash in the Pan's 'Waiting For A Train' again and, gulp, it's fucking brilliant. I always knew it was a good song but I don't remember it being this good.  That holiday was still an absolute shocker but fair fucks, this song is magic. Turns out that wanker Guy Ritchie used it in one of his films, which half annoys me but I'll let it pass this time. Here's a link to the 9 minute version. Enjoy and try not to think about sand, sunburn and a pissed up pater:

Flash And The Pan - Waiting For a train (9 minutes) 1982

Round 509: Fuzzy Feelings

 

Darts Thrown: October 6th 2020

Blog Written: October 13th 2020

Highest Score: 140

Lowest Score: 3

Sixties: 31

100+: 9

180s: 0

180s Missed: 1

Blogger's Note: Written in haste, so there will be spelling mistakes and slapdash grammar.

Absolute fucking nonsense of a music choice but it does explain why I had always had The Nightingales, Ted Chippington and Fuzzbox as a package in the back of my head all these years. Record Mirror absolutely loved this back in the day, and I swore by Record Mirror back in the day . . .  too much so.

The Nightingales, Ted Chippington and Fuzzbox - Rockin' With Rita (Head To Toe)

Round 508: Disco Dolly

 

Darts Thrown: October 2nd-6th 2020

Blog Written: October 13th 2020

Highest Score: 140

Lowest Score: 3

Sixties: 39

100+: 13

180s: 0

180s Missed: 2

Blogger's Note: Written in haste, so there will be spelling mistakes and slapdash grammar.

Okay, it looks like I'm in a George Young/ Harry Vanda trip at the moment, so I'll throw in this pop classic that they penned back in the 70s. I'm sure I heard this as a kid. If I didn't, I loved it since. Weird to think it was an Australian pop song. For me, it screams EuroHit.

John Paul Young - Love Is In The Air (1978)

A Placeholder of sorts . . .

. . . is that the right term? I never know about these things. I've been Lexulous for about 11 years now. It's the Facebook version of Scrabble. I seem to remember that I started playing it because I was coming down with a severe case of 'Baby Brain', and I needed some form of intellectual stimulation before my brains leaked out of my left ear. As the stats indicate, I am a decidedly average player. In my defence I don't cheat, and I know some -  though not all - of my opponents feel the need to cheat by using word generators. I'm passed caring at this point.

What's the point of the 'placeholder'? Well, I just finished my 16,000 game, which is a landmark of sorts and at this late stage I'm interested in bingos for some reason, so that at the start of each month I'll post a screen grab of my stats so I can keep track of them. Why the sudden interest now? I don't have a scooby. Just my latest wilo-the-wisp bullshit version of prevarication and procrastination.

Apologies for the garbled post. Now that I've placed the blog on private, I'm giving less of a shit about proof reading:

Addendum

Wow, look at this post from March of this year. Talk about repeating myself. Same patter and everything. Looks like the 'Baby Brain' never really went away, after all.