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Post by dem bones on Mar 19, 2014 12:10:10 GMT
Adam Clayson - Death Discs: An Account Of Fatality In The Popular Song (Sanctuary 1997, originally Gollancz, 1992). Blurb: From the moment they learn to talk, children are taught to enjoy songs with the most gruesome themes: the mutilation of disabled rodents ('Three Blind Mice'), potentially.fatal head injuries ('Jack And- Jill') and even widespread plague ('Ring 0 Ring 0 Roses'). Death has always been entertaining. Top of the sheet music charts two hundred years ago were 'murder ballads' — grisly tavern tales of suffering and misadventure. 'The Five Pirates Of The Flowery Land' sold 3,000 copies within an hour of release, finally selling to 90,000 bloodthirsty fans. Nothing has changed. Tragic motorbike accidents ('Leader Of The Pack'), horrific murders (I Love The Sound Of A Severed Head Bouncing Down The Staircase') and tales of deranged wanderers calling a dead lover ('Johnny Remember Me') are all classics from the Golden Age of the Death Disc. Today, with violent rap songs and golden oldies' posthumous sales dominating the charts, the Death Disc lives on, long after the artists do not. Death Discs is about our fascination with tragedy in song and those artists whose success has been enhanced when they died too young. You would never have believed death could be so much fun.Has been referenced on here several times, but didn't have a copy - until now. It matters nothing that Mr. Clayson bypasses several personal grave faves, this is still arguably the definitive work on the subject (pre-eighties, at least: in truth, he's not much of a fan of anything after the tail end of the seventies and it's like Goth, psycho-billy and rap never happened), and a total must-have for the angst-ridden. The author's enthusiasm for his theme carries the day and leaves you with many a morbid masterpiece to hunt down. Gloriously macabre entertainment. R.I.P. Scott Asheton
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Post by franklinmarsh on Jul 1, 2014 12:13:24 GMT
Any mention of Jacques 'Mr Cheerful' Brel in there, Dem? I lucked (if that's the right word) on the good Mr Clayson's biography of the Belgian balladeer, and it's proving a lot more fascinating than I expected. The wily documenter has just fitted in a cheeky plug for Death Discs as Jacques has returned from self-imposed exile in Polynesia to attempt to lay down what might be his final waxing. I've never actually heard any of JB's Francais airs, but do have Bowie attempting Amsterdam, can recall The Sensational Alex Harvey Band's rather potent version of Next on the OGWT.and know that Scott Walker was rather taken with Brel's doom-laden chansons. I'm certain Matt may have heard that cheeky terrace adaptation of Seasons In The Sun (recorded by Jacques as Le Moribund). I'm enjoying these music biogs having sprinted through Les McKeown's Shang-A-Lang : The Curse Of The Bay City Rollers (paperback edition - the hardback was also called Shang-A-Lang but had the more upbeat subtitle of Life As An International Pop Idol). Les has some interesting things to say (with hindsight) about the Music Biz, and the book contains an hilarious (and unnecessary) warning about the sex, drugs and violence contained within, a cover quote from Lorraine Kelly and an introduction by Irvine Welsh (which remarkably isn't emblazoned anywhere on the covers) who mentions that Les was infamous during his schooldays as an older boy who'd left school unforgettably by setting off a 'shit bomb.' (?) Good on McKeown for mentioning their two 'punk' gigs - I was there at the Lyceum - to see the support bands The Adicts and The Stingrays.My brother and I weirdly had ticket no.s 7 and 8 - but left in disgust when the Bay Sweaty Roll-ons took to the stage with 'I Only Want To Be With You'- which the book confirms that they did record - I preferred The Tourists version. Synchonicity! Les and a version of the BCRs will be playing within walking distance of my hovel in September. Should I?
And he does mention John Peel's glorious recollection of a Radio 1 Fun Day, involving the Rollers, and Tony Blackburn in a speedboat driven by a womble. Great days!
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Post by dem bones on Jul 1, 2014 13:38:56 GMT
Tired of getting it in the neck from her square parents, Betty tells her Jimmy "we're through" A bleary-eyed shang-a-lang to you, Mr. Marsh. Yes, the ghost of Jacques Brel looms large over chapter 4, All My Sorrows, which also references, among others, Scott Walker, Alice Cooper ( Dead Babies), Terry Jacks, Charles Aznavour, and those main men of morbid, Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Titch. Mr. Clayson certain did his homework. H*gh**te Cemetery tomb raider, Marc "I'm in the Church of Satan, me" Almond also got his vocal chords around some JB, even scoring a minor chart smash with his interpretation of Jackie.
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Post by pulphack on Jul 4, 2014 7:41:45 GMT
Les used to drink in the Weatherspoons opposite the town hall in Mare Street, where some of us would retire to nurse the wounds of another home defeat in the days when Paul Brush was single-handedly trying to get the O's into the Conference. An amiable chap (Les, not Brush) who was acquainted with one of our number and would always exchange pleasantries. God help the idiot who mentioned the Rollers, though. Business is business, but when he was down the pub that was to be put to one side. Does anyone remember the C4 (?) documentary when Les confronted the snide pile of excrescence that was Tam Paton (about whom the whole of Edinburgh knew) and was totally bamboozled by him about where the money went? Anyone would think Paton handled them as a charity case... may he rot in hell. Nasty piece of work. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Les - nice bloke, glad to see he's getting better bookings these days.
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Post by franklinmarsh on Jul 9, 2014 9:17:22 GMT
Amid my current piles of 90s acts that I missed (Marilyn Manson, White/Rob Zombie, Insane Clown Posse and (waves Union Jack) Cradle Of Filth), I've obsessively spinning the meagre selection of Scott Walker I have access to. The Brel covers are monumental, but Montague Terrace (In Blue) and the Bergman-inspired The Seventh Seal are running them close.
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