It Happens Like This

I was outside St. Cecelia's Rectory
smoking a cigarette when a goat appeared beside me.
It was mostly black and white, with a little reddish
brown here and there. When I started to walk away,
it followed. I was amused and delighted, but wondered
what the laws were on this kind of thing. There's
a leash law for dogs, but what about goats? People
smiled at me and admired the goat. "It's not my goat,"
I explained. "It's the town's goat. I'm just taking
my turn caring for it." "I didn't know we had a goat,"
one of them said. "I wonder when my turn is." "Soon,"
I said. "Be patient. Your time is coming." The goat
stayed by my side. It stopped when I stopped. It looked
up at me and I stared into its eyes. I felt he knew
everything essential about me. We walked on. A police-
man on his beat looked us over. "That's a mighty
fine goat you got there," he said, stopping to admire.
"It's the town's goat," I said. "His family goes back
three-hundred years with us," I said, "from the beginning."
The officer leaned forward to touch him, then stopped
and looked up at me. "Mind if I pat him?" he asked.
"Touching this goat will change your life," I said.
"It's your decision." He thought real hard for a minute,
and then stood up and said, "What's his name?" "He's
called the Prince of Peace," I said. "God! This town
is like a fairy tale. Everywhere you turn there's mystery
and wonder. And I'm just a child playing cops and robbers
forever. Please forgive me if I cry." "We forgive you,
Officer," I said. "And we understand why you, more than
anybody, should never touch the Prince." The goat and
I walked on. It was getting dark and we were beginning
to wonder where we would spend the night.

poem by JAMES TATE.

painting by MARC CHAGALL.

Post-Debord

Robert Montgomery:

Guy Debord:

The spectacle cannot be understood as a mere visual deception produced by mass-media technologies. It is a worldview that has actually been materialized, a view of a world that has become objective.

Bang, bang, said the clown

The internet and its ever increasing amount of relatively structured data about anything and everything has undoubtedly changed the way music lovers operate from how they did in the past century. What James Murphy described as internet-seeking, has provided us with a very structured and controlled way of drawing ever-expanding circles around our musical entry-points. If, for instance, someone would check out Stars of the Lid because of its high rating on Rateyourmusic, and take a liking to it, he can check out their collaborations, similar artists or recommendations on the basis of their music from various sites and sources on the internet and thereby expand his knowledge of the genre from a single point.

It used to be quite different. Though deliberate and structured exploration of the musical scene was not impossible say 40 years ago, it was definitely a lot harder, and more uncommon. My father used to tell me he'd just buy records from the store purely based on the album cover or an intriguing artist name. Radio, too, played a much larger role, resulting in a more centralized (inter-)national music taste.

Bang Bang Machine was one of those occurrences where the old and new ways just described kind of merged for me. Though I did find out about them in a way that is very concurrent with the internet-generation's obsession for complete data (that is: I was looking at a list of John Peel's Festive Fifty #1s), it caught my eye because it was one of the few items in it that was completely foreign to me and intriguing at the same time. And even though their influences include some of my personal favorites (mostly Cocteau Twins and the madchester scene), they seem to lack any connections to those bands and exist in a world of their own. This mostly because they have been largely forgotten.

I find it hard to see why on the basis of this single. Geek Love is a true tour-de-force, that is simultaneously catchy and ephemeral, dreamy and danceable, intellectual and emotional. It builds perfectly to a climax, and features one of the most fantastic female vocal performances I know of. While it is based on an interesting yet complicated novel on a freak show carnival, it perfectly captures that strange atmosphere in one strangely alluring and poetic line: To love, but never to be in love.

P.S. Be sure to also check out the (extended) album-version on YouTube which drags out the original in a wonderful way.

Grebo

Ned's Atomic Dustbin
Grey Cell Green
COLUMBIA RECORDS 1991

Ned's Atomic Dustbin is certainly an unusual bandname, apparently it was nicked from an episode of a British radio programme. The band itself has some unusual and interesting traits as well, like having two bass players and having belonging to a genre/scene that seems to have been completely forgotten by now: grebo. Though more a subculture and scene than an actually well-defined sound, grebo was a quite popular fashion-term for a few years (around the turn of the 90s). It had a garage-rock feel to it, but inflicted with a typical British flavor, with its bands taking cues from both the recent post-punk and jangle pop trends that ruled the alternative side of the 80s in the UK. It's influence and existence was ultimately killed by the onset of grunge.

Though a lot of the bands that are usually associated with the genre enjoyed huge chart success (The Wonder Stuff, Pop Will Eat Itself, Carter USM, etc.) they seem mostly forgotten and apparently not worth digging up for future generations. But it did play at least a minor role in the music history. While most of the popular bands at that time were either indulging in acid house or dreamy shoegaze, they were the ones holding up the pop tradition, and perhaps passing it on to the Britpop-generation.

Returning to the song at hand, Grey Cell Green is to me by far their most lasting testament, a punctual and gripping three-minute-pop song with quite a bit of sting. Though the attention often goes to their twin-basslines, it's really the drums that take the cake here. The guitar is hypnotic and repetitive, especially during the bridge that slows the song down for it's inavoidable climax, getting back to the chorus again. If you look at videos of their gigs at the start of their career, the song's motto "Desire, it has been found" seems appropriate. There's a lot of passion and energy in the crowds there. Truth be told, if I ever saw them live (I don't expect that to happen, not living in the UK) I'd probably go mad on this. It's just got that teenage adrenaline rush that only the best pop songs have.