Smiling with electric faces...

Brightdancing? Fucking shitedancing*, more like.

I know that Alex Chilton, as a member of Big Star, has proved hugely influential on the likes of Teenage Fanclub and er... others, but I'm totally sick to the back fucking teeth of hearing him sing the same dreary lines from The Box Tops' Neon arse-ing fucking Rainbow as it relentlessly soundtracks the Talk Talk sponsor stings bookending X Factor ad breaks. Like all such stings, they're hopelessly, dreadfully repetitive and are designed to do nothing more than simply get on my tits.

It all just gets in the way of my life. Surely, I'm not the only one who feels their very life force being sapped by this cack, am I?

[*Shitedancing? Now that would be a sting and a half, wouldn't it? The "dancers" could smear different shades of... ahem... fudge all over those glass panels, instead of whatever the fuck those light things are.]

Let's hit opening time down on Vaccination Street

Sky "Two Jags" Clearbrook

I got a letter from the government the other day... well... my local GP's surgery, to be more accurate. I opened it and read it, it said I was "at risk".

Yes, seemingly I am in the "at risk" group for catching swine flu. So, I made the necessary appointment and - after another early morning appointment where I spotted a fellow Dunfermline-based blogger hanging about outside Davie Gray's hairdressing salon in the Maygate at about 0815 this morning (there is a reason I didn't make presence known this morning, but  - depending how things turn out - I might explain why I didn't draw attention to myself this morning, this time next week - yep, very cryptic) - I duly turned up for the en-masse vaccination surgery at 1055 this morning.

I was quite impressed at the efficiency of the whole operation - not what I've come to expect from Nethertown Surgery, Dunfermline, in recent years. By the time I arrived, the waiting room was jam packed. It turned out they'd already vaccinated 250 patients and I was part of the second batch of 250, each of us roll-called with startling efficiency. The busy-ness of the waiting room was somewhat deceptive - nobody found themselves sitting down for too long.

Upon hearing my name, I was frog-marched into Room 11 to be met by my actual GP. I swear, I don't think I've seen this geezer in the flesh since about 2004! Such is life at Nethertown Surgery... you usually just get who you're given!

So anyway, he did that squirty thing where they make sure there are no bubbles about to come up the needle and then.. he was straight into the top of my left arm... Penetrating me to the hilt; a little prick (if you will) like he'd just thrown a fucking dart from the other side of the room. Anyway, needles don't bother me and I'm happy to watch the whole thing as though it was somebody else's arm. Fucking, yes!!! Then his accomplice sitting at the PC piped up and said, "Actually, Mr Clearbrook's* also due the 'normal' flu vaccine too."

"Fine," I said, "In for a penny... Bring it on, seldom seen GP. Picture me giving a damn," I said, "Never!". So he stood up to the oche and launched a second dart, this time into my right arm. Hahahaaaaaa! Your fucking needles don't bother me! As a parting shot, he said to me that a normal reaction would be to experience some flu-like symptons for a few days (even although I recently read something to the contrary; apparently the only way for this to be true would be if the flu virus was already in your system at the time you had the vaccination - you just don't know who the fuck to believe, do you?). Well, whatever the outcome, I know I just have to grin and bear the consequences. I must admit, I've felt quite "off piste" since this morning, but certainly I haven't experienced any flu-like symptoms.

Anyway, although my swine flu arm aches much more than my "normal flu" arm, it's such a small price to pay. Thank fuck for the NHS.

[* Because, you just know that really is name, don't you?]

He will knock four times...

Well... I really enjoyed The Waters Of Mars. Looking forward to the next episode!

Your groove, I do deeply dig!

I always knew that the main bassline of Massive Attack's 1991 classic, Safe From Harm, had been borrowed from a much older track, but I never really knew which. And frankly, I never could quite get round to finding out.

Well, anyway... whilst playing GTA IV recently (yeah... and???), I noticed that one of the tunes on the in-car radio stations was this kind of soul-jazz workout featuring the bassline in question. A quick look at the game notes indicated that this is a track called Stratus by virtuoso drummer, Billy Cobham. Great... an 18 year mystery is unexpectedly solved. Then I thought I'd have a look on YouTube to see if there were any performances of said track and what was the first thing I should find? Well none other than this brilliant clip which I have rather lazily embedded into this post.

At first I thought it was going to be another one of those oh-so "whacky" singalong clips, the sort which are lazily included on drek like Channel Four's Rude Tube (hosted by one of my least favourite presenters - after Vernon Kay, of course!), but this cat's so far out and gone that I just simply could not stop watching. I just loved that he's clearly so passionate about the track and - to paraphrase a lyric from Safe From Harm - I found that his enthusiasm spread through my system like a virus (ooh... I hope that didn't seem too shoe-horned in there!!!).

Like you, I rarely watch lazy YouTube embeds [c. Avenues and Alleyways 2006-2009] , but if you can be at all bothered to do so on this occasion, then you'll find you're in for a wee treat. I'd love to go to this man's house, just chill out, have a drink and listen to his music collection in his company. It'd be totally ace.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Billy Cobham's Stratus, featuring commentary from Profyousion.

Walkin' about with a head full of music... or perhaps not

Who fancies a 32gb Samsung YP-P3 mp3 player for the bargain price of £149.99? I fucking do.

Back in mid-August, my beloved Creative Zen Vision M bit the dust so I reluctantly began the search for a new player. After a bit of digging, I unearthed this wee corker on the ever-reliable Play.com. I kept an eye on it for a couple of weeks; the release date was not until the end of August, so there was no rush. Sadly, the advertised date came and went, but I decided to order it anyway; by that point in time, the release date was being advertised as 21 September.

Then that date passed too. I was in for another wait, this time until 15 October. So I waited again... and then... what do you think happened? Yep, no prizes for guessing... another delay. And I'm still waiting.

The frustrating aspect to all of it this (other than just not having something I've had on order for months) is that at no point in time have Play.com endeavoured to explain exactly what's going on. I'm fairly sure that the issue really lies with Samsung, but it's a pretty poor show not to keep us customers informed, particularly when an item has been delayed so significantly. Whenever a release date is reached, all that happens is that the website changes to, "Temporarily out of stock - this item will be dispatched as soon as it arrives." After a few days, the page will begin to advertise yet another release date.

Earlier on in this post, I described Play.com as being "ever-reliable" and in the four years I've been ordering from them, they've never been anything less. But this current scenario seems especially out of character.

I'm willing to cut them a bit of slack, but frankly, the whole thing has become dreadfully fucking tedious. I just want my new mp3 player!

And the sickest joke was the price of the medicine

Haha!

I've been feeling quite dizzy for a few days now and have been experiencing a dull ache in my chest for most of today. I can never get an appointment at the doctors' surgery, and even when I do, they just fob me off (haha - never heard it called that before!)...

But it's probably just wind, eh?

Who put the bomp (in the bomp-a-bomp-a-bomp)?

Showaddywaddy, eh?

I thought that Romeo Challenger was a great moniker and I remember always getting singer, Dave Bartram, mixed up with "Mr" Roy Get-It-Together North off of The Basil Brush Show. It's maybe just my memory playing tricks, but they never seemed to be off Top Of The Pops or Cheggars Plays Pop in the olden days. I always thought they were quite pish, but to be fair, they came across as willing to send themselves up; I'm pretty sure they were no strangers to an attack by the Phantom Flan Flinger in their time.

Jeez, I bet there's all sorts of funny 'Waddy-related stories flying about in blogland. What are your memories of the dreaded 'Wad?

[Post script: To be fair to The 'Wad, Under The Moon Of Love had quite a swagger to it. Fuck the Pistols, The 'Wad  were all over the place in '76.]

Oops! This link appears to be broken

What the fuck is going on with Blogger today?

Let's go on the witch's hat!

I never liked Showaddywaddy. They were as irrelevant in the 1970s as they were ubiquitous. In fact, they're so irrelevant, they're not even the subject of this post.

Look at this photie. There they are in their heyday; striking a pose on - of all things - a witch's hat in a children's play park.

We had a witch's hat in our local park. It was one of those rare pieces of play equipment on which you could accommodate practically all the 4 to 8 year old kids in the village at the same time! For the best fit, all the younger kids would squeeze up close sideways, one behind the other, with a leg on either side of the wooden seat at the bottom. The older kids would then stand up, star-shaped - on the metal bar - facing inwards.

Making the witch's hat go round was easy, but the real fun would start when the standing-up kids would make the structure sway in and out at the same time. As the momentum built, the whole thing would jerk violently as it went round and begin making a joyous clanging noise; the sound of a structure being pushed to its absolute limits. The sheer thrill of this crazy motion was heightened by the feeling that you could fall off at any moment if you didn't hold on tight enough! The real suicidal amongst us would shimmy up the metal poles to the top and sit on - or at least cling onto - the peak whilst all this was going on.

Pretty dangerous in many ways, but then I don't remember any of us getting killed! That said, I can totally see why they took the cheesecutter down. Oh heady days.

It is time for you to laugh instead of crying

Having said all that, let's look on the bright side.

It might be fucking autumn. It might be dark by about four or five o'-friggin-clock. I might be on my fucking knees after month's worth of mind bending work. But... I'm also on piggin' holiday. Come on Sky, stop your sobbing!

Happy, happy. Joy, joy.

You can't wrap your arms around a memory

Ho hum... feeling a bit glum. Maybe it's the time of year.

The Mission were a band that I really loved around about 1987 to 1990. I finally got the chance to see them when they played live in Pittencrieff Park, Dunfermline, as part of their Highlands and Islands tour in August 1989. Yes, Dunfermline - neither highland nor island - was the destination for my favourite band and, to my delight, they previewed a lot of material which would eventually find its way onto the following year's Carved In Sand album.

One track stood out in particular; Butterfly On A Wheel was a kind of yearning paean to love lost, delivered (as the title might suggest) in a fragile, delicate, heartbroken kind of way. It differed from previous and subsequent Mission tracks because there was no mention of perfumed paths or the hereafter, everafter or, indeed, the evermore (whatever they're supposed to mean). The lyrics were heartfelt and we could feel Wayne Hussey's pain. Oh yes. There are some truly cringeworthy elements within The Mission's back catalogue, but I feel Butterfly On A Wheel really stands the test of time.

Although the highs far outweigh the lows, I've had some really grim times over the past two decades and 1990 was the very first time I properly experienced complete and utter, helpless, debilitating despair. And as much as I love the song, Butterfly On A Wheel is so directly linked with that desperate time.

The dawning of the new decade saw The Mission release Butterfly as a single within the first few days of January. I was still just 18, but how could such a young lad be so very, very down? Well, that's for me to know, but I do remember that the knock-on effect was a descent into alcohol. A winter of discontent and rapid weight gain ensued as I began to spend my student grant (and then overdraft) on pint after pint after pint in an effort to escape from reality. It never got as far as an addiction, but I do know I had a serious craving and no night was ever complete without puking Newcastle Brown all over my Doc's at least once.

I'm surprised I can remember it, but I do recall being in a bar called Shenanigans/Whisky Joe's in Dunfermline's High Street (it was called the former and changed to the latter around about this time) when the DJ decided to play Butterfly. I walked out, very calm and quiet with my pint still in my hand. In the street, the snow was falling heavily - it was deep and fresh and everything was just silent, nobody else around - and I remember just sinking to my knees and sobbing my heart out. I don't know how long I was there.

When there's a snowstorm brewing, you really can smell it in the air, can't you? Everytime I smell that smell on a really cold night, it just takes me right back to that night in January 1990 and Butterfly On A Wheel.

There I was - as the song says - broken and torn, crushed like a flower under the snow. I was only 18. 18!

We just got swallowed up by the whole damn world

Who here likes The Noisettes?

Yeah. I do. Good pop songs, catchy choruses, a soaring string here and a grizzly guitar there. Yep... I like them. But...

There's this 1970s John Savident lookalike who gets on my bus (that's my bus) at the Co-Op stop in Rosyth most mornings and he always likes to play his iPod loud. So loud, in fact, that he might as fucking well have it linked up to a set of speakers for all the good his "earphones" do. I dread this bastard getting on. It's not just the loud music; his sweaty demeanour, halitosis breath and really cheap, stale footwear are also utterly unbearable. I pray he doesn't sit anywhere near me and, thankfully, he tends not to.

Anyway, this morning, the back (and probably the front) of the bus were treated to the sociable sounds of The Noisettes. Could be worse, I suppose. But which of their tip-top albums did our 1970s John Savident opt for? None actually. He chose only one song... the catchy toe-tapper, Never Forget You. He played it nice and loud for us all to hear. And then he played it again. Then again. Then again. Over and over and over and over a-fucking-gain. I counted at least eight plays, but that was only after I tuned into the fact that he had it on repeat, so fuck knows how long it had been going on for.

Another bus journey ruined. Another perfectly good song ruined. Forever.

No commercial potential

Some of you may remember this post from some time ago about a great band, called Sawyer, with whom I was (very briefly) involved and - more accurately - a big fan of.

In the original post, I made mention of the fact that I may embed some Sawyer mp3s if I got permission. Well, my good pal - and former Sawyer vocalist - JM gave that permission almost immediately, but for some reason, I never really got round to posting those mp3s.

Well, I'm delighted to say that your wait is now at an end. Thanks to an eager anonymous poster who left a comment on that original post today, requesting to hear some tracks, I have been spurred into action! And so... by the magic of embedded music players, here's the opportunity to evaluate the might of Sawyer for yourself. These tracks come from Sawyer's 1994 EP.

Sawyer - Ghetty Chasun


Sawyer - G.M.


Sawyer - Torn


Sawyer - Guy


For further information on Sawyer, have a look at this Wiki page dedicated to them.

Home of the hit men

Love lost. Fire at will. Dum-dum bullets and shoot to kill.


Now that my super duper, souped-up PC can play Grand Theft Auto IV, I've spent the past few days immersing myself in its incredible online multiplayer modes.

As I've mentioned previously, although I quite like Max Payne series, the GTA franchise is my one and only proper concession to PC gaming and GTA IV really is something else. There are a number of online multiplayer games, but the ones most users seem to play are Deathmatch and Team Deathmatch.

Essentially, Deathmatch is every player for themselves; kill or be killed. The one who pockets the most money wins. Team Deathmatch is pretty much the same, but with up to thirty-two players split into teams. It's fucking ferocious. Sometimes it's so unrelentingly brutal, I suspect some users may be using cheats.

Anyway, I know it all sounds very "boys and their toys", but frankly, I don't give a shit. GTA IV multiplayer is dizzyingly addictive - no matter how frequently you get peppered with machine gun fire.

All good, clean fun. Whatever that means!