“Here Come the Nice” was Marriott/Lane’s ode to their dealer. The song clearly says, “he’s always there / if I need some speed,” but this one got past the Beeb censors, peaking at a respectable #12. But sugarlumps? Forget it. Maybe they were so busy looking for metaphorical drug references that they missed explicit ones.
For whatever reason, I found myself revisiting cult faves Honeybus over the weekend. If you’re unfamiliar and craving some late 60’s psychedelic/baroque/folk/pop, they could be your fix. I recommend streaming the anthology pictured above. Some good hooks and harmonies throughout, though I found myself skipping a good amount of songs. Your mileage may vary. Perhaps due to the drug-addled times, there are some oddities, such as this otherwise good song marred by a fucking kazoo. They had a top ten UK hit with this, which almost, just-about sounds like it could be a parody of the baroque pop of the time.
Speaking of twee pop parodies, nothing will ever surpass this masterpiece (said to be a parody of Ray Davies’ “Funny Face”) from Neil Innes, the man who would one day compose the entire Rutles catalog in something like a week.
. . . for obvious reasons.
I recently re-watched The Beatles Anthology with recent convert, Renfield Jr. Great series, but I had a hard time making it through this video featuring the hirsute-era Beatles mooning over and frolicking with their significant others. I’m not sure why anyone thought this would be entertaining, but maybe the point was narcissism rather than entertainment.
I like the furious text streams.
Steve Vai will attempt to set the Guinness World Record for the World’s Largest Online Guitar Lesson!
PiL will represent Ireland in Eurovision with Hawaii, an ode by Lydon’s to his wife. It apparently IS a love song.
Keith Levene has hopped the twig, aged 65. Fuck cancer.
I’ve been enjoying this series recently.
To say Cunk is an idiot is an insult to idiots—this is a person who stone-facedly inquires whether the pyramids were built from the top down. She calls the academics she speaks to “clevernauts” and “expertists” and then proceeds to ask these befuddled “boffins” about anal bleaching in ancient Rome. In between, she characterizes the advent of farming as a product of lazy hunters, math as a “tragic invention,” sports as “theater for stupid people,” the Model T as a “truly terrible car” and missionaries as “God’s bitches.” With her pop culture knowledge far outstripping her knowledge of literally anything else, she at least nails the name of the 5-part series’ religious episode: “Faith/Off.” Through all of it—even through the show’s inexplicable “Pump Up the Jam” leitmotif—Morgan never breaks. This is stupidity at its deadest seriousness.