No, the only wastrel who seems to me to bear any resemblance to Mr. Doherty is that other tabloid-loving dilettante, Sid Vicious, and just look what happened to him.
Morton Valence were recently billed as having "the greatest singing pervert since Serge Gainsborough" within their ranks. I am happy to report this is completely true.
In my politest New Yorkian, I said, “hey, if you want to talk, go to the FUCKING back, but I'm here for the concert.
In addition, the instruments that are played on this work seem to have been assembled from various garden sheds.
It is an album of almost unimaginable folly, of incredible indulgence?
Bring your own poison? Make mine a pint of bleach.
There's no grass for cows to eat and there are big skies
Oh… I love Chai-Ovna
a man who resembled Jason King wandered onstage, clutching an acoustic guitar and accompanied by a girl who resembled the star of Der Neue Schulmadchen Report 2 Teil: Was Eltern den Schlaf Raubt
Lycanthropy is a work of massive scope; it is the result of five years of song writing and is intended to showcase what an incredibly talented child can do.
Singer Alec Onsworth had an awkward look on his face the whole show, but somehow it really worked, maybe he can only sing in his charmingly awkward way whilst making nervous looking faces.
You realise when hearing stuff like The Back of Love that the Bunnymen still retain their air of hypnotic, ethereal, abstract strangeness. It's like musical non-music if you see what I mean.
Grass, incidentally, is Animal Collective's three-minute pop song – at least it would be if the chorus wasn't screamed.
This is what makes up the bulk of the film: the British wave of punk bands, the fuss they caused in the UK, the catalyst they were in the US to impressionable young things like Henry Rollins. And this is what makes the film a bit of a disappointment for me.
Berman has been through some kind of personal hell. To quote Kinky Friedman, he spent the time so high that he needed a stepladder to scratch his ass.
..things never seem to be quite so simple these days. Pubs have crèches in them, petrol stations try to be mini-supermarkets and so on: everything becomes blurred.
I found myself casting my mind back to 1981, when, asked by my form teacher to put on a show for a class assembly, my friends and I decided to imitate the Human League. We did it in front of our class and it was fairly well received.
Don't let me forget to mention their incredible cover art, a bambi-esque cartoon of a rabbit sniffing a young deer's butt. It is absolute genius.
"The solution, in Moondog's mind, was to dress up like a Viking and so he took to wearing a horned helmet and carrying a spear."
You know how men are said to be controlled by tits and ass? I think it can be the same for women and it's sort of an obsession with the male genetalia and the power it can have over you if you're lonely or you need affection or attention or to get fucked or whatever – pardon my french...