Hello,
no video this update, but I figured one should happen since it has been more than a week since the last. I presume you're doing well?
This week a lot of the band have been involved in various studious activities. For some of us it's the final year of our uni course, which involves the mad rush of finishing our dissertations before the end of April. Luckily we have a shed load of gigs in April so we're trying to finish as much as we can now. This means that unlike we planned, we have neither recorded anything, nor written many new songs.
Not to worry, I'm sure everyone's coming up with new material on their own, but all I can think about is the Neverhood.
Better luck next time,
- Mike
Saturday, 29 March 2008
Friday, 21 March 2008
Something a little bit different:
Enjoy! It's another little bit of my actual degree gone forever...
You may notice there isn't any footage from either of the actual gigs we played this weekend. Correct.
-Alex
Sunday, 16 March 2008
The Three Guineas on St. Paddy's day
Last night was a first timer for Smokey Bastard - we actually played in an Irish Bar. For the first of the two St. Paddy's day gigs this weekend, we took on the Three Guineas- the pub on the Reading station platform.
A 14 hr day
After a heavy seven hours of rehearsing both old and very new tunes, burning pizzas, watching rugby and generally fart arsing about, the Smokey Bastard train headed on over to the Three Guineas, where in true style we caused havoc to all those in our path and managed to block off the majority of the bus park outside the station for a good 20 minutes. By 8.45, and with a good crowd in front of us, we were ready to go - but our 'working day' was to last for many more hours!
Set and Match
With both Wales and England victorious in the rugby and the irish with a saint to celebrate, the evening was set to be one of celebration. Our first set started with Mrs McGrath, and was an almost entirely acoustic spasm; the crowd were in good form, and much jigging, singing, falling over and guiness drinking was had by all.
The second set saw a somewhat large increase increase in volume as we played through a noisy punk set, which we thoroughly enjoyed. By this point the audience were generally getting more wobbly- the floor became strewn with a few drunken casualties who'd jigged just that bit too far. [Ivo has ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE OF RHYTHM - Alex]
Mais oui, ma mère est dans l'arbre
By half 10 it was all over, after an encore of Mrs McGrath and Steve the Twat. An hour or so and a whole lot of free Guiness later we finally left the Three Guineas and headed back over to the Ness family care home, where further drinking and merriment was had around the burning stove out in the wonderfully atmospheric christmas...shed...
Most notably, a large portion of the evening was carried out in completely nonsense french, while we ate hot buttered crossed buns and put the world right on our terms. Drunken, tired, contented terms at that.
En plus...
Two more days of rehearsing and then a Leytonstone gig - here we come!
-Sophie [with interfering by Alex...]
A 14 hr day
After a heavy seven hours of rehearsing both old and very new tunes, burning pizzas, watching rugby and generally fart arsing about, the Smokey Bastard train headed on over to the Three Guineas, where in true style we caused havoc to all those in our path and managed to block off the majority of the bus park outside the station for a good 20 minutes. By 8.45, and with a good crowd in front of us, we were ready to go - but our 'working day' was to last for many more hours!
Set and Match
With both Wales and England victorious in the rugby and the irish with a saint to celebrate, the evening was set to be one of celebration. Our first set started with Mrs McGrath, and was an almost entirely acoustic spasm; the crowd were in good form, and much jigging, singing, falling over and guiness drinking was had by all.
The second set saw a somewhat large increase increase in volume as we played through a noisy punk set, which we thoroughly enjoyed. By this point the audience were generally getting more wobbly- the floor became strewn with a few drunken casualties who'd jigged just that bit too far. [Ivo has ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE OF RHYTHM - Alex]
Mais oui, ma mère est dans l'arbre
By half 10 it was all over, after an encore of Mrs McGrath and Steve the Twat. An hour or so and a whole lot of free Guiness later we finally left the Three Guineas and headed back over to the Ness family care home, where further drinking and merriment was had around the burning stove out in the wonderfully atmospheric christmas...shed...
Most notably, a large portion of the evening was carried out in completely nonsense french, while we ate hot buttered crossed buns and put the world right on our terms. Drunken, tired, contented terms at that.
En plus...
Two more days of rehearsing and then a Leytonstone gig - here we come!
-Sophie [with interfering by Alex...]
Monday, 10 March 2008
"Go Long!"
"I Am Long..."
Working backwards from the joint premises that:
Working backwards from the joint premises that:
- we all have a strong primal urge to throw whatever we've got to anyone who holds up their hands half cupped together in the cross-cultural sign for 'pass it here!'
and
- when throwing things it's obligatory to shout 'go long' on the offchance that the catcher will retort 'I am long', facilitating everybody's feeling rather smugly witty,
we at Bastard have calculated that shouting "I am long!" obliges anyone in the area to throw to/at the shouter whatever object they can fastest throw in his/her direction.
This has turned out to be really useful if someone's holding something you want, since they'll usually end up throwing whatever's in their paws already, even if they don't particularly want to give it up. Also handy if you're feeling cruel and someone is holding something like a slice of their favouritest cake in the whole world (and you feel ready to dodge it).
Just so that I can feel I've covered all the bases, I should say please don't attempt to take advantage of this if you're sat in a particularly large crowd on a pebbly beach, or similar - we've already had some fairly serious biscuit incidents and wouldn't want you to get caught out like we were.
(Better than dubious social commentary, right?)
-Alex
Thursday, 6 March 2008
Nefarious Various
I am a music man/
I come from far away/
And I can play./
What can you play?/
I play the Gee-tar.
Last weekend, during songwriting, it became clear that Matt couldn't play a scale from a given note ("I've never needed to, shut up!" etc.).
He kept trying, while everyone around him yelled "TONE TONE SEMITONE TONE TONE TONE SEMITONE" in increasingly incomprehensible tones of exasperation and spit-flecked rage, but he was basically trying to do it chromatically no matter what we screamed and jabbered at his perplexed little eyebrows.
Finally, exhausted from such eye-rolling, slavering apoplexy, the band quietened down enough to offer some resignedly damage-limitating advice: "look Matt, it's really not very often a semitone. If in doubt, assume it's not a semitone."
A pause.
"If in doubt, skip a fret, don't just go up to the next one", comes the hopeful rephrase.
*matt looks frantically at the low E string he's playing the scale on*
"skip a fret?" (he looks up, petrified) "I'm going to run out!"
[Cue aploplectic jabbering part II.]
Gigs
As the academic year moves into it's final stages and the days begin to lengthen into evenings, our schedule is happily beginning to get more busy again. At the moment it's still not much but there are already one or two dates not quite up there yet, including the intriguing notion that we might play at the opening of a 'community garden squat project' organised by some punks in Reading.
Make Punk, not war
This brings me to something bastard have been talking about for a while: I don't care what they say, punks under the age of about 25 are all just hippies with leather jackets and slightly less girly hair.
"Community garden squat project"?! Since when did punks do that? What happened to "shit on the community, it's a cunt"? That's what I'd like to know.
I suppose in honesty it's a good thing that punks havn't given up the aesthetics of their movement (the clothes, the music, the politicism) and have started to care about the environment and are nice to their mummies as well (we're nice to our mummies).
But punks are basically a remnant of a previous generation, and it's heartbreaking but I recon - uhoh, controversial statement - that chavs are the only original 00's subversive youth culture. Wanky, but true, kids. We've got about two years to sort this out before this was the decade of chavs and emo. Time for:
A folk uprising!
Lock up your maidens and get out the battle hoe, this fair country will jig to a new tune...
I come from far away/
And I can play./
What can you play?/
I play the Gee-tar.
Last weekend, during songwriting, it became clear that Matt couldn't play a scale from a given note ("I've never needed to, shut up!" etc.).
He kept trying, while everyone around him yelled "TONE TONE SEMITONE TONE TONE TONE SEMITONE" in increasingly incomprehensible tones of exasperation and spit-flecked rage, but he was basically trying to do it chromatically no matter what we screamed and jabbered at his perplexed little eyebrows.
Finally, exhausted from such eye-rolling, slavering apoplexy, the band quietened down enough to offer some resignedly damage-limitating advice: "look Matt, it's really not very often a semitone. If in doubt, assume it's not a semitone."
A pause.
"If in doubt, skip a fret, don't just go up to the next one", comes the hopeful rephrase.
*matt looks frantically at the low E string he's playing the scale on*
"skip a fret?" (he looks up, petrified) "I'm going to run out!"
[Cue aploplectic jabbering part II.]
Gigs
As the academic year moves into it's final stages and the days begin to lengthen into evenings, our schedule is happily beginning to get more busy again. At the moment it's still not much but there are already one or two dates not quite up there yet, including the intriguing notion that we might play at the opening of a 'community garden squat project' organised by some punks in Reading.
Make Punk, not war
This brings me to something bastard have been talking about for a while: I don't care what they say, punks under the age of about 25 are all just hippies with leather jackets and slightly less girly hair.
"Community garden squat project"?! Since when did punks do that? What happened to "shit on the community, it's a cunt"? That's what I'd like to know.
I suppose in honesty it's a good thing that punks havn't given up the aesthetics of their movement (the clothes, the music, the politicism) and have started to care about the environment and are nice to their mummies as well (we're nice to our mummies).
But punks are basically a remnant of a previous generation, and it's heartbreaking but I recon - uhoh, controversial statement - that chavs are the only original 00's subversive youth culture. Wanky, but true, kids. We've got about two years to sort this out before this was the decade of chavs and emo. Time for:
A folk uprising!
Lock up your maidens and get out the battle hoe, this fair country will jig to a new tune...
Sunday, 2 March 2008
To whom it may concern,
So, another week, another song writing session for Smokey Bastard. The whole band were here for this one, although it appears we could only have a full house on the condition that someone was ill, and thus incapable of being any use. Andy drew the short straw, resulting in mumbled groaning and legions of vomit. Despite many snack breaks, impromptu gigs and at least one person setting their head on fire, productivity ensued and we now have three shiny new songs that no one has heard.
The "printing" of the new EP is also complete, and you can buy it at any of our gigs for the tiny sum of one English pound sterling (£1). It contains four songs, which you can sample on our Myspace, and these limited edition prints contain pieces of paper that were all physically touched by various members of the band. You can smell the soothing stench of folk. Don't worry though, Andy wasn't allowed anywhere near them.
As for any surprise announcements, I get the feeling that they're going to be delayed by at least a week. If anyone can hold their breath that long I will be more than impressed.
Yours incoherently,
- Mike
The "printing" of the new EP is also complete, and you can buy it at any of our gigs for the tiny sum of one English pound sterling (£1). It contains four songs, which you can sample on our Myspace, and these limited edition prints contain pieces of paper that were all physically touched by various members of the band. You can smell the soothing stench of folk. Don't worry though, Andy wasn't allowed anywhere near them.
As for any surprise announcements, I get the feeling that they're going to be delayed by at least a week. If anyone can hold their breath that long I will be more than impressed.
Yours incoherently,
- Mike
Monday, 25 February 2008
Just a Bad Dream
Good Morning, Good Morning
I feel the need to share with you all a touching yarn.
John is the landlord at The Royal Oak; my local in Bath. A few months back he approached us about playing a folk festival, which we said we probably would.
To my surprise, when I went to The Oak I was approached by John's wife who is organising said festival and she asked me if it was true that we couldn't play. This baffled me. Turned out John had had a dream about us not being able to play the folk festival after having seen "No Smokey B" written on a kitchen pad. This had led to confusion and worry.
It was later discovered that this note meant that they had run out of smoky bacon flavour Nobby's Nuts. I saw fit, at this point, to laugh at John seeing as, not only had he become worried about us not playing, he had also neglected to order any more nuts.
That is the end of that, another thrilling episode of the Smokey Bastard blog. I thank you.
Kisses.
Chris
I feel the need to share with you all a touching yarn.
John is the landlord at The Royal Oak; my local in Bath. A few months back he approached us about playing a folk festival, which we said we probably would.
To my surprise, when I went to The Oak I was approached by John's wife who is organising said festival and she asked me if it was true that we couldn't play. This baffled me. Turned out John had had a dream about us not being able to play the folk festival after having seen "No Smokey B" written on a kitchen pad. This had led to confusion and worry.
It was later discovered that this note meant that they had run out of smoky bacon flavour Nobby's Nuts. I saw fit, at this point, to laugh at John seeing as, not only had he become worried about us not playing, he had also neglected to order any more nuts.
That is the end of that, another thrilling episode of the Smokey Bastard blog. I thank you.
Kisses.
Chris
Friday, 22 February 2008
Degrees of Uselessness
Tick Tick Tick
In very roughly three months I and a few others in the band graduate from university (all things being well).
It's getting hard to avoid speculation about what might happen when I drop off the end of the playschool-infants-school-college-uni conveyor belt.
One thing is for dead certain:
(I can't work out whether I've put this image here illegally - AppleGeeks Lite kicks total ass, find and love it (and my favourite strip from it) here; that might get me off the hook...)
Degrees don't have the power they used to - I think most people admit that these days - but I'm pretty chuffed about having studied philosophy, since the real value of having studied it is not to be found on the (probably metaphorical in the UK anyway) piece of paper in the 'mail'. The value is that it means I can be philosophical about stuff, man (/dude etc.).
For example:
Hey, so maybe our degrees are useless - but who cares? So's our band, and that still kicks arse...
-Alex
In very roughly three months I and a few others in the band graduate from university (all things being well).
It's getting hard to avoid speculation about what might happen when I drop off the end of the playschool-infants-school-college-uni conveyor belt.
One thing is for dead certain:
(I can't work out whether I've put this image here illegally - AppleGeeks Lite kicks total ass, find and love it (and my favourite strip from it) here; that might get me off the hook...)
Degrees don't have the power they used to - I think most people admit that these days - but I'm pretty chuffed about having studied philosophy, since the real value of having studied it is not to be found on the (probably metaphorical in the UK anyway) piece of paper in the 'mail'. The value is that it means I can be philosophical about stuff, man (/dude etc.).
For example:
Hey, so maybe our degrees are useless - but who cares? So's our band, and that still kicks arse...
-Alex
Wednesday, 20 February 2008
Monday, 18 February 2008
A Productile Post
Productivity
After the rhythm section of Bastard spent a long evening on Saturday night songwriting in the Ness Family Care Home, we agreed that Sunday would be a long day, an early start, a generally productive enterprise. "What?!" Bastard gasped, "get back here tomorrow for WHAT time in the frost-bitten god-forsaken winter morning?!" Ten o clock. No excuses.
So, come half past ten i was standing over the mumbling, sleeping form of Mike, in Chris' spare room, while Chris stumbled to the loo in his pyjamas (I say 'pyjamas' - I'm relatively sure they were his clothes from the day before), and a sleepy Andy on the other end of a mobile phone was explaining that Sophie hadn't yet got him breakfast in bed and so they might be another hour or so. Matt, to his credit, was already at the rehearsal, but it's his damn house. That just leaves Pat.
Hi Pat, if you're out there, somewhere.
Producibles
A solid TEN HOURS of songwriting later we've finished the weekend with some half-covered folk standards, a few half-written bits and bobs and two shiny and complete new songs: an original acoustic folk punk number called "Steve the Finchampstead Twat" and an original balls-out punk ejaculation called (something like) "Old Boys' State".
Product
I think it's interesting that although the lyrics for the two finished tunes were written by different band members completely independently of each other, they both reflect the same subtle change in theme (or maybe attitude) for Bastard. Although we still haven't written a single track which doesn't at least mention drunkenness, drink, drinking or drunks (ahem), both the new tracks seem to be noticably lacking any respect for the whole old-drunken-man-of-wisdom folk tradition that you find glorified even in our own early tunes like Old Jack.
I personally wonder whether the looming prospect of making an album might be having the interesting effect of making us focus more closely on what a folk punk record from our own hometown sounds like, and on writing and saying what we as individuals and as a band have to say and write. That is, as opposed to coming from some abstract idea of what folk punk bands do or say, we might really be heading towards making our very own product.
ok, just to avoid confusion, I should point out that no matter how righteous I get about our philosophy, we're still just a bunch of cunts shouting about stuff, I just think too much.
in other news:
prodManager
A tiny update: Smokey Bastard gave an official go-ahead to Barrie Barlow, signalling that we're well up for welcoming him on board as our manager subject to blah blah blah. With all his connections and experience as a real musician in the real business, friendly connections to us through the Crabtree Dynasty and an obviously genuine enthusiasm for what we're up to, he looks like just the right man for the job - let's hope it comes to pass!
Fingers crossed also that we get within sniffing distance of John Leckie producing us, though obviously who knows at this point, busy man, etc etc. Getting a really nice album made was the subject of the very first conversation I ever had with Barrie when we met in the Eldon Arms in December, and so I think he knows how much it means to us to get it right - the suggestion that Mr. Leckie might be able to have a hand is one to really get us salivating!
Producer?
For those of you who aren't wikipedia: John Leckie's production credentials go in one swoop from really well crafted raw early punk (e.g. The Adverts? Well worth a listening at) through the crunchy sounds of Britpop to the modern, more slick and complex rock, punk and pop (even music chumps will have heard these names: Radiohead, Muse), to the very subtly produced acoustic sounds of artists like Rodrigo y Gabriella or Shiv Kumar Sharma, and beyond. For an almost literally insane list covering Leckie's career, look here.
That John was also involved in the only even slightly celtic offerings that The Silencers ever recorded is probably a good sign, but as far as I can see it'll be mostly the fact that he uniquely has huge amounts of experience in both punk and world music that would make him absolutely THE man to put our sound on a disk.
I said: "that would make him absolutely THE man to put our sound on a disk!"
You think he heard?
-Alex
After the rhythm section of Bastard spent a long evening on Saturday night songwriting in the Ness Family Care Home, we agreed that Sunday would be a long day, an early start, a generally productive enterprise. "What?!" Bastard gasped, "get back here tomorrow for WHAT time in the frost-bitten god-forsaken winter morning?!" Ten o clock. No excuses.
So, come half past ten i was standing over the mumbling, sleeping form of Mike, in Chris' spare room, while Chris stumbled to the loo in his pyjamas (I say 'pyjamas' - I'm relatively sure they were his clothes from the day before), and a sleepy Andy on the other end of a mobile phone was explaining that Sophie hadn't yet got him breakfast in bed and so they might be another hour or so. Matt, to his credit, was already at the rehearsal, but it's his damn house. That just leaves Pat.
Hi Pat, if you're out there, somewhere.
Producibles
A solid TEN HOURS of songwriting later we've finished the weekend with some half-covered folk standards, a few half-written bits and bobs and two shiny and complete new songs: an original acoustic folk punk number called "Steve the Finchampstead Twat" and an original balls-out punk ejaculation called (something like) "Old Boys' State".
Product
I think it's interesting that although the lyrics for the two finished tunes were written by different band members completely independently of each other, they both reflect the same subtle change in theme (or maybe attitude) for Bastard. Although we still haven't written a single track which doesn't at least mention drunkenness, drink, drinking or drunks (ahem), both the new tracks seem to be noticably lacking any respect for the whole old-drunken-man-of-wisdom folk tradition that you find glorified even in our own early tunes like Old Jack.
I personally wonder whether the looming prospect of making an album might be having the interesting effect of making us focus more closely on what a folk punk record from our own hometown sounds like, and on writing and saying what we as individuals and as a band have to say and write. That is, as opposed to coming from some abstract idea of what folk punk bands do or say, we might really be heading towards making our very own product.
ok, just to avoid confusion, I should point out that no matter how righteous I get about our philosophy, we're still just a bunch of cunts shouting about stuff, I just think too much.
in other news:
prodManager
A tiny update: Smokey Bastard gave an official go-ahead to Barrie Barlow, signalling that we're well up for welcoming him on board as our manager subject to blah blah blah. With all his connections and experience as a real musician in the real business, friendly connections to us through the Crabtree Dynasty and an obviously genuine enthusiasm for what we're up to, he looks like just the right man for the job - let's hope it comes to pass!
Fingers crossed also that we get within sniffing distance of John Leckie producing us, though obviously who knows at this point, busy man, etc etc. Getting a really nice album made was the subject of the very first conversation I ever had with Barrie when we met in the Eldon Arms in December, and so I think he knows how much it means to us to get it right - the suggestion that Mr. Leckie might be able to have a hand is one to really get us salivating!
Producer?For those of you who aren't wikipedia: John Leckie's production credentials go in one swoop from really well crafted raw early punk (e.g. The Adverts? Well worth a listening at) through the crunchy sounds of Britpop to the modern, more slick and complex rock, punk and pop (even music chumps will have heard these names: Radiohead, Muse), to the very subtly produced acoustic sounds of artists like Rodrigo y Gabriella or Shiv Kumar Sharma, and beyond. For an almost literally insane list covering Leckie's career, look here.
That John was also involved in the only even slightly celtic offerings that The Silencers ever recorded is probably a good sign, but as far as I can see it'll be mostly the fact that he uniquely has huge amounts of experience in both punk and world music that would make him absolutely THE man to put our sound on a disk.
I said: "that would make him absolutely THE man to put our sound on a disk!"
You think he heard?
-Alex
Monday, 11 February 2008
Curbing Our Enthusiasm
Greetings kittens,
GOOD NEWS and terrifyingly amusing news for you all this Happy Monday.
Firstly, we met with Barrie from Jethro Tull and things sound sexy and boy did he LOOK sexy. We still need to run things past Mike and Pat who were busy bumming each other elsewhere at the time of the meeting but we're getting close.
The exciting news is that the producer he's asked to record our album is none other than John Leckie, who worked on 'The Bends' with Radiohead and Muse's 'Origin of Symmetry'. COOL! Yes it is cool. As a result, we're pretty much going to TELL Mike and Pat that this is going ahead.
More news soon after we beat them into submission.
In other news, there has been a quite ludicrous turn of events in one band member's eternal quest to "get some ", as it were. For the sake of the story we shall call him MATTHEW NESS. Those of you familiar with Larry David's 'Curb Your Enthusiasm' will be ready for the cringe factor. Others may want to wear protective goggles.
So, one evening, Matt was out with boons*. Matt makes a habit of going out with boons. Nobody knows why. Anyway, he was making eyes at some chick. You know the kind of deal where you see a girl, register that she's hot, look away and carry on with your own business but can't stop turning around for another little peek? WELL IT WAS THAT. Turned out she was looking back so the lady's man thought "I'm in". He was not yet in.
She went out into the smokers' alley and Matt sat and contemplated whether he could bring himself to be so contemptible as to pretend he smoked so he could go and talk to her.
While his mind was in turmoil one of the aforementioned boons had already taken action, lit up and told the chick that Matt was all about that shizzle. Not being the quickest of cats, when questioned as to why Matt couldn't have told her this himself, the boon replied "I ....well....erm.....I dunno" and ran away.
This left Matt in dire straits. Upon hearing of this boon's foolish endeavour, he was left to explain to his newfound love interest that he was not, as had been made out, a massive baby and that he could talk to girls if he wanted to.
Come the end of the evening, and after much explanation, she said something like "see you next week" and Matt breathed a sigh of relief and went back to thinking "I'm in". He was not yet in.
This is where it gets a bit silly.
The next week Matt returned with a new entourage of boons, found his woman and initiated proceedings portending to coitus.
Immediately, and without hesitation, a boon arrived to ruin the day.
"Matt's in a band", she blurted.
Matt didn't know what to do. He panicked, as many would, as he worried that he looked like even more of a dickhead. Being sharp of mind, Matt quickly responded "Shut up. Don't say that", turned to the chick and told her, with firm authority, "I'm not in a band". Matt is in a band.
He now has a date with this chick, during which he must not divulge that he is in a band. Unfortunately, Matt and the band are one and the same. Without the band, Matt is a man with no interests. He will also no doubt tell ALL of his friends about this production deal lark so chances of keeping the band a secret are very low indeed.
Safe in the knowledge that she will never find out about the band or the blog, and if she does then it will all be ruined anyway, there will be more news when Matt fucks it up.
Kisses,
Chris
*Boons idiots, cretins, imbeciles, simpletons, chumps, pillocks, mongoloids, troglodytes, dimwits, dunces, morons, twits, weakest links, checkout supervisors.
GOOD NEWS and terrifyingly amusing news for you all this Happy Monday.
Firstly, we met with Barrie from Jethro Tull and things sound sexy and boy did he LOOK sexy. We still need to run things past Mike and Pat who were busy bumming each other elsewhere at the time of the meeting but we're getting close.
The exciting news is that the producer he's asked to record our album is none other than John Leckie, who worked on 'The Bends' with Radiohead and Muse's 'Origin of Symmetry'. COOL! Yes it is cool. As a result, we're pretty much going to TELL Mike and Pat that this is going ahead.
More news soon after we beat them into submission.
In other news, there has been a quite ludicrous turn of events in one band member's eternal quest to "get some ", as it were. For the sake of the story we shall call him MATTHEW NESS. Those of you familiar with Larry David's 'Curb Your Enthusiasm' will be ready for the cringe factor. Others may want to wear protective goggles.
So, one evening, Matt was out with boons*. Matt makes a habit of going out with boons. Nobody knows why. Anyway, he was making eyes at some chick. You know the kind of deal where you see a girl, register that she's hot, look away and carry on with your own business but can't stop turning around for another little peek? WELL IT WAS THAT. Turned out she was looking back so the lady's man thought "I'm in". He was not yet in.
She went out into the smokers' alley and Matt sat and contemplated whether he could bring himself to be so contemptible as to pretend he smoked so he could go and talk to her.
While his mind was in turmoil one of the aforementioned boons had already taken action, lit up and told the chick that Matt was all about that shizzle. Not being the quickest of cats, when questioned as to why Matt couldn't have told her this himself, the boon replied "I ....well....erm.....I dunno" and ran away.
This left Matt in dire straits. Upon hearing of this boon's foolish endeavour, he was left to explain to his newfound love interest that he was not, as had been made out, a massive baby and that he could talk to girls if he wanted to.
Come the end of the evening, and after much explanation, she said something like "see you next week" and Matt breathed a sigh of relief and went back to thinking "I'm in". He was not yet in.
This is where it gets a bit silly.
The next week Matt returned with a new entourage of boons, found his woman and initiated proceedings portending to coitus.
Immediately, and without hesitation, a boon arrived to ruin the day.
"Matt's in a band", she blurted.
Matt didn't know what to do. He panicked, as many would, as he worried that he looked like even more of a dickhead. Being sharp of mind, Matt quickly responded "Shut up. Don't say that", turned to the chick and told her, with firm authority, "I'm not in a band". Matt is in a band.
He now has a date with this chick, during which he must not divulge that he is in a band. Unfortunately, Matt and the band are one and the same. Without the band, Matt is a man with no interests. He will also no doubt tell ALL of his friends about this production deal lark so chances of keeping the band a secret are very low indeed.
Safe in the knowledge that she will never find out about the band or the blog, and if she does then it will all be ruined anyway, there will be more news when Matt fucks it up.
Kisses,
Chris
*Boons idiots, cretins, imbeciles, simpletons, chumps, pillocks, mongoloids, troglodytes, dimwits, dunces, morons, twits, weakest links, checkout supervisors.
Thursday, 7 February 2008
Jethro, The Prosthetic Limb and The Ever-Questionable Dentist
Morning kids. How's tricks?
The majority of the band are meeting with Barrie Barlow this weekend to discuss this here production deal lark. This should hopefully result in some more solid plans which I can then relate to you via this exciting blog so stay tuned.
Apart from that I'm mainly just going to voice some thoughts.
Firstly, I was watching The Empire Strikes Back the other day because I'm fucking cool. Anyway, it got to the very end and it showed Luke's new robotic hand and I got to thinking; Would you get tired using a robotic limb?
I guess this boils down to whether a fully functional prosthetic limb would be actually robotic or just a synthetic replica of the limb it is replacing. Either way it would have to take motor neurone input to be at all useful but would it require oxygen from blood or would it function on a different power source. Would your robotic hand have a charger like a phone? If anybody knows I would greatly appreciate answers.Sceondly, I'm no dentist but I went to my dentist the other day and I'm having my doubts as to whether he is really a dentist. It didn't used to bother me when I was a kid - The sooner I was out of that chair, the better - but now It's starting to irritate me. I am going to ask you to read the following aloud to yourself.
Eight, Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, Two, One
One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight
No Eight, Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, Two, One
One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, No Eight
How long did that take you? Fifteen seconds? Well however long it was, that is how long my dentist appointments last. He just counts my teeth and then I can leave. No other comments. He doesn't even verify if that is the right amount of teeth. Is it?
In conclusion, not a dentist.
Anyway, I'm done. I'll catch y'all for an update next week sometime, as this weekend I shall be rocking out to Dropkick Murphys and The Mad Caddies.
Kisses,
Chris
Monday, 4 February 2008
Johnny Loxley and the Infinite Baffle
So I found out today that apparently you can get different sized infinities. My argument goes like this:
Say you flip a coin an infinite number of times. The probability of getting, say, four heads in a row is 1. It is definitely going to happen, given the number of times the coin is flipped. By the same argument, the probability is 1 that ten heads in a row will show up. And twenty. And a million. But also, an infinte amount of heads, since there's infinite time to do it in.
So, I argued, the chances of getting an infinite number of heads, with an inifinite number of flips is 1. Surely that would mean that the possibility of getting a tails at any time is 0 (which obviously isn't true).
My maths friends told me it's something to do with different sized infinities, so that even though there are two infinities involved, one is bigger than the other. Which is why the probability of getting a tails is not 0. What?
I don't know, it made me think is all.
In other news: a) Drinking tea and beer only staves off hunger for so long, b) Real food is expensive and c) Toast is a life saver.
Don't am stupid,
- Mike
Say you flip a coin an infinite number of times. The probability of getting, say, four heads in a row is 1. It is definitely going to happen, given the number of times the coin is flipped. By the same argument, the probability is 1 that ten heads in a row will show up. And twenty. And a million. But also, an infinte amount of heads, since there's infinite time to do it in.
So, I argued, the chances of getting an infinite number of heads, with an inifinite number of flips is 1. Surely that would mean that the possibility of getting a tails at any time is 0 (which obviously isn't true).
My maths friends told me it's something to do with different sized infinities, so that even though there are two infinities involved, one is bigger than the other. Which is why the probability of getting a tails is not 0. What?
I don't know, it made me think is all.
In other news: a) Drinking tea and beer only staves off hunger for so long, b) Real food is expensive and c) Toast is a life saver.
Don't am stupid,
- Mike
Wednesday, 30 January 2008
Band Biology
Funny how these things happen in waves. Right about when macca was bitching and whining in his last blog entry about how bloody annoying computers can be I was busy watching facebook munch up and dispose of a great big long band bio which I wrote (ok my fault for choosing to write it on the web page instead of copy pasting but i'm still angry) and then failing to log into this blog to post the re-written version despite definitely having the right password.
Now I have the right password, here's a shot at potting the personnel history of the band:
BIO
Smokey Bastard are a mixture of seven English punks, folkies and bewildered musicians, playing original material and arrangements of folk tunes from whichever country we pinch them.
The Smokey Bastard song 'The Boys Who Left the Band' is ostensibly an autobiographical punk outpouring in the form of a twisted morality tale, finding meaning and motivation in the sordid history of the band.However, it was almost the first song Smokey Bastard ever wrote, it consists pretty much entirely of lies, and the only true things in it BECAME true after the song was written, so if you're looking for a biography of the band, ignore it.
Jonny the drummer didn't so much leave the band as disappear, since after recording 'Boys' with him we havn't actually managed to find the guy.
Cookie the banjoid also hasn't very literally left the band, in his case because although he's no longer a member of the band he's often still here.
Alex the drummer turned up and played the bodhran first try, so he's in.
Sophie the fiddler turned up and played the whole set first try, so she's in.
Everone else has been there pretty much since the band's messy beginnings, rising as it did out of the drinking, smoking, firegazing, singing and crassly insulting sarcastic behaviour which were and are the staple activities in the Ness Family Care Home for Lost Waifs, Strays and Musician-types.
These days, underneath the smell of alchohol and weird green vomit, Smokey Bastard is actually fairly coherant and is pretending to be 'businesslike'. We think this means hats, but we're not sure.
Summer 2008 will involve a uk tour, and milk bottles full of Guinness.
"the end" etc.
Tell me what you think...
Alex
P.S.
I'm in Germany at the moment where my girlfriend's flatmate is chinese. She puts this on her hair I think, or face:
Yes, "SOD Milk".
Now I have the right password, here's a shot at potting the personnel history of the band:
BIO
Smokey Bastard are a mixture of seven English punks, folkies and bewildered musicians, playing original material and arrangements of folk tunes from whichever country we pinch them.
The Smokey Bastard song 'The Boys Who Left the Band' is ostensibly an autobiographical punk outpouring in the form of a twisted morality tale, finding meaning and motivation in the sordid history of the band.However, it was almost the first song Smokey Bastard ever wrote, it consists pretty much entirely of lies, and the only true things in it BECAME true after the song was written, so if you're looking for a biography of the band, ignore it.
Jonny the drummer didn't so much leave the band as disappear, since after recording 'Boys' with him we havn't actually managed to find the guy.
Cookie the banjoid also hasn't very literally left the band, in his case because although he's no longer a member of the band he's often still here.
Alex the drummer turned up and played the bodhran first try, so he's in.
Sophie the fiddler turned up and played the whole set first try, so she's in.
Everone else has been there pretty much since the band's messy beginnings, rising as it did out of the drinking, smoking, firegazing, singing and crassly insulting sarcastic behaviour which were and are the staple activities in the Ness Family Care Home for Lost Waifs, Strays and Musician-types.
These days, underneath the smell of alchohol and weird green vomit, Smokey Bastard is actually fairly coherant and is pretending to be 'businesslike'. We think this means hats, but we're not sure.
Summer 2008 will involve a uk tour, and milk bottles full of Guinness.
"the end" etc.
Tell me what you think...
Alex
P.S.
I'm in Germany at the moment where my girlfriend's flatmate is chinese. She puts this on her hair I think, or face:
Yes, "SOD Milk".
Tuesday, 29 January 2008
Fuck Computers
Howdy.
I am going to use this space to have a brief rant about computers as their antics have hindered several beautiful advancements in the glorious kingdom of Bastard.
Firstly, our new website is nearly complete. "GOOD" is what you might be thinking. The trouble is, some stuff doesn't work right in Firefox and some entirely different stuff doesn't work in Internet Explorer. I don't know why Microsoft and MoZilla don't just sit down, have a nice cup of tea, decide how the internet works and settle for some universal formula. It shouldn't be this hard. Anyway I think most of the Firefox problems are sorted so if you don't have Firefox, get it. It was always better anyway.
The website in progress can be found at http://www.smokeybastard.com.
I think you'll agree that it's looking pretty sexual.
Secondly, I intend to start doing some animated blogs but I am rubbish at Flash so I have settled for the "Animation for Dummies" route: MS Paint in conjunction with Windows Movie Maker. Unfortunately this is proving more difficult than I expected after hours of crafting some really rather spiffy Smokey Bastard characters to animate. I'll have to spend more time fiddling with the damn computer-mo-phone in order to work this one out.
Thirdly, I did some basic T-shirt designs for y'all to have a goose at but my interweb is being a whiny little bitch (and, as a result, so am I) and won't let me upload them to the blog.
In other words, Grah.
That is all.
Snog y'all later.
Chris
I am going to use this space to have a brief rant about computers as their antics have hindered several beautiful advancements in the glorious kingdom of Bastard.
Firstly, our new website is nearly complete. "GOOD" is what you might be thinking. The trouble is, some stuff doesn't work right in Firefox and some entirely different stuff doesn't work in Internet Explorer. I don't know why Microsoft and MoZilla don't just sit down, have a nice cup of tea, decide how the internet works and settle for some universal formula. It shouldn't be this hard. Anyway I think most of the Firefox problems are sorted so if you don't have Firefox, get it. It was always better anyway.
The website in progress can be found at http://www.smokeybastard.com.
I think you'll agree that it's looking pretty sexual.
Secondly, I intend to start doing some animated blogs but I am rubbish at Flash so I have settled for the "Animation for Dummies" route: MS Paint in conjunction with Windows Movie Maker. Unfortunately this is proving more difficult than I expected after hours of crafting some really rather spiffy Smokey Bastard characters to animate. I'll have to spend more time fiddling with the damn computer-mo-phone in order to work this one out.
Thirdly, I did some basic T-shirt designs for y'all to have a goose at but my interweb is being a whiny little bitch (and, as a result, so am I) and won't let me upload them to the blog.
In other words, Grah.
That is all.
Snog y'all later.
Chris
Thursday, 24 January 2008
Happy Sharks
Here, for you viewing pleasure, is the latest from Cooky's "Happy Shark" Scrapbook.
"I just ate a whole fat person - heh heh heh."
"Look Ma. I cleaned my teeth real good. No people at all. Also my nostrils look like my eyes."
Possibly more soon. We can't really remember if we made this up about Cooky or if it's something he actually does. The line between reality and fiction has become somewhat hazy. Oh well. Stay Tuned.
Chris (Happy Sharks © Cooky 2008)
"I just ate a whole fat person - heh heh heh."
"Look Ma. I cleaned my teeth real good. No people at all. Also my nostrils look like my eyes."
Possibly more soon. We can't really remember if we made this up about Cooky or if it's something he actually does. The line between reality and fiction has become somewhat hazy. Oh well. Stay Tuned.
Chris (Happy Sharks © Cooky 2008)
Tuesday, 22 January 2008
Banjo haiku
Cooky is our occasional stage-fellow, he was in the band and now plays with us sometimes. These Haiku are about him.
i am hugely drunk.
whisky whisky whisky whis-
ky whisky whisky
look in my glasses
your drunken soul is upon
my enormous face
banjo is easy
see, i don't need finger picks
my beard is so FAST
Further suggestions welcome.
Alex
Additional:
Aled sent in these Smokey Bastard Haiku and I thought them too good to leave them rotting in the comments box so I shall add them here. - Chris
Bastard Haiku
A smokey bastard
Once told me about a band
Called "Smokey Bastard"
He smelled quite smokey
And was born out of wedlock
Thus "smokey bastard"
By pure happen-chance
This fellow enjoyed folk-punk
Played by his namesakes
(When I say namesake
I am not quite accurate
His name's not "SB"-
It is just a neat
And relevant description
of his aroma
And of his parents'
Marital situation
In his infancy)
Anyhoo, this chap
Who doesn't really exist
Had introduced me
To Smokey Bastard
(That's the band, not the person
who I just made up)
i am hugely drunk.
whisky whisky whisky whis-
ky whisky whisky
look in my glasses
your drunken soul is upon
my enormous face
banjo is easy
see, i don't need finger picks
my beard is so FAST
Further suggestions welcome.
Alex
Additional:
Aled sent in these Smokey Bastard Haiku and I thought them too good to leave them rotting in the comments box so I shall add them here. - Chris
Bastard Haiku
A smokey bastard
Once told me about a band
Called "Smokey Bastard"
He smelled quite smokey
And was born out of wedlock
Thus "smokey bastard"
By pure happen-chance
This fellow enjoyed folk-punk
Played by his namesakes
(When I say namesake
I am not quite accurate
His name's not "SB"-
It is just a neat
And relevant description
of his aroma
And of his parents'
Marital situation
In his infancy)
Anyhoo, this chap
Who doesn't really exist
Had introduced me
To Smokey Bastard
(That's the band, not the person
who I just made up)
Topsy Turvy
The life of a rock star is erratic, unpredictable and gut-wrenchingly exciting. One minute you're rocking out hard as life, the next you're eating breakfast for dinner. I mean that is just mental.
Mike and I would like the fans to know that we frequently have breakfast for dinner and, although we haven't asked them, I'm sure some of the other guys do too.
It's just how we roll.
Thanks for listening.
Chris
Mike and I would like the fans to know that we frequently have breakfast for dinner and, although we haven't asked them, I'm sure some of the other guys do too.
It's just how we roll.
Thanks for listening.
Chris
Tuesday, 15 January 2008
New Blog
'ssup, you crazies?
I have recently been commanded to do something I once swore never to do and, as a result, I have created this blog. My excuse is that it is a band blog and not a personal one, and henceforth is at least a little bit less lame.
I think the intention is to be informative with a hint of light-hearted mirth thrown in for good measure but I think the inverse is more likely. I for one don't have much information to share on anything and am mostly going to use this blog to jibber aimlessly about stuff that amuses me.
Expect, in future to find anything from gig and recording info through to stories by Mike about mice making cars out of buttons and the like.
Could be fun. LET'S SEE.
Until then...FLY MY PRETTIES.
Chris
Mwah Mwah
I have recently been commanded to do something I once swore never to do and, as a result, I have created this blog. My excuse is that it is a band blog and not a personal one, and henceforth is at least a little bit less lame.
I think the intention is to be informative with a hint of light-hearted mirth thrown in for good measure but I think the inverse is more likely. I for one don't have much information to share on anything and am mostly going to use this blog to jibber aimlessly about stuff that amuses me.
Expect, in future to find anything from gig and recording info through to stories by Mike about mice making cars out of buttons and the like.
Could be fun. LET'S SEE.
Until then...FLY MY PRETTIES.
Chris
Mwah Mwah
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