I was racking my brain in order to come up with an innovative and useful reviewing tool for this year’s Tapestry Festival, and eventually settled on a suitably western ‘Good/Bad/Ugly’ judging criteria. Originally this was going to take the form of a venn diagram, as one band might be as good as another, but a lot uglier, and this subtle difference could be made quite clear. But in the end I couldn’t be bothered, so you’ll have to make do with a simple list.
| The Good | The Bad | The Ugly |
| Alan Tyler | Ciruclus | Circulus |
| Archie Bronson Outfit | Peter Bruntnell | Leaf Hound |
| Simple Kid | The Pipettes | |
| The Rosinators | Salty Dogs | |
| Swearing at Motorists | ||
| Tokyo Dragons | ||
| Red Army | ||
| Loose Salutes |
As you can see, Circulus appear in two lists. This is because although their unique fusion of medieval English folk music and 60s psychedelia is a dandy proposition in theory, the fact that they’ve neglected to write any halfway decent tunes counts again them. Bad. And ugly. And embarrassing, if I’m honest. But I didn’t have a column for that. Or dogshite.
Anyhow, the weekend was a great success, despite almost constant rain and sub-arctic temperatures at night. There’s a much fuller write-up of the weekend at Wendywire (including a rare photograph of yours truly wearing my trusty stetson), while here at blogjam you’ll just have to settle for a single picture.
Stuff with prunes, roast at 180ºC, serves many.
I cried when I saw the Pipettes (because they were so bad, not because of how moved I was).
Horses, for courses, I guess – I thought they were utterly souless. It’s weird, cause they’re obviously influenced by the Shangi-Las, who I adore, and who move me in ways that very few bands manage.
But the Shangri-Las suffered real tragedy (one of them died, and also Aerosmith did a version of ‘Remember (Walking In The Sand)’, and best of all, never ever reformed. One of them runs an ‘upscale’ furniture shop. But she does not sing.
You’re spot on about the Pipettes, Fraser. Not bad as such, but who wants a Brechtian girl group?
Sod all that…I’m more concerned about the authenticity of a Wild west park that serves Guinness
I’ve just clicked on the Circulus link, laugh, I nearly cried, hints of very early Magnum, a smattering of Hawkwind and rather too mauch hey nonny nonny.
The Goose keeps looking at me. he doesnt want to be eaten, he wants to be my pal. Tasty goose, STOP LOOKING AT ME! Those pleading eyes will get you nowhere but the oven. Oh, just take the frikkin’ prunes and go…
That goose knows something’s up.
There’s a new butcher opening near me soon. Might see whether I canget hold of one of its goosey couisins when it does. Failing that, I’ll get some… mm, pork maybe, or a nice bit of lamb…
Please excuse me while I drift off into a meaty reverie.
Haa haaa, I wonder what he thinks about getting blow-dried by a giant deity-like birdhead.
He is a very confused bird, it all seems normal to him.
He has to have a gordon the gopher hand puppet next to his cage which he humps repeatedly. Ah well it seems to keep him happy anyway….but think how old tha gopher is and how ropey it must be by now :-)
Re: “brechtian girl band”
That kind of rings true (re. The Pipettes) but I preferred “soulless”. (Brechtian makes ’em sound more interesting than they actually were!) So many bands out there – who I’ve no doubt are sincere about what what they’re doing – end up with music that sounds utterly cynical. Strange days. Watching the ‘Pettes was like being harangued by head girls. Trilling and hectoring and unpleasant. Why don’t people realise, when they’re trying to be clever and funny, that if you have to try to be clever and funny you’re probably not clever or funny?