Bile chanter Jeff Stuka gets carried away with his acidic poetry, attacking your editor and seemingly devising his own set of rules for the chart and points system. More of Stuka’s words can be found at http://eyesofdiesel.blogspot.com/
Check out twitter.com/discardarama for another Stuka project
Here bitchtits. Eat my dingles.
Yeah, rite, wateva… now we’ve finished with Mr Roberts detailing his favourite shades of beige, let’s step outside the comfort zone and insult our way across ten years of posturing shitheads from the 8th greatest music city of the 21st century.
Let’s start with three bands who inexplicably got a record deal:
A band who took the use of hairspray to epic levels and whose unsurpassed opinion of themselves was only matched by the unsurpassed indifference of a record buying public. Scraped the bottom end of the charts with their scraggy glamgoth wailings and carved a subsequent career in swaggering around Birmingham being preposterous self important pricks.
Boring Joy Division meets Coldplay for 13 year old girls who’ve just discovered they hate their parents. I was bored when they were Snowfield and I’m still bored now. I’ve deliberately called them The Editors as I read somewhere it pisses them off and I want to provoke a response to see if it makes them any less boring.
Lovely bunch of lads, really pleased they got a nice fat advance and everything but by Santa’s cocking fairy lights, what the fuck happened there? A band who’d ploughed their baggy furrows across many an indifferent review suddenly become the centre of an A&R bidding war thanks to a certain Radio 1 DJ with a penchant for bad music. They now have two albums worth of indifferent reviews in those baggy pockets of theirs and they seem happy as ever. Lucky bastards.
Phew! I needed that. Now for some good bands
Fondly remembered, C86 obsessed band whose wit in some ways outmatched their musical ouput A few decent releases on the Bearos label before they ultimately imploded under the weight of their own weight at the very start of the decade
The New Electrics
Contemporaries of King Adora and a band believed to have killed off at least two record labels. Certainly, their great lost album ‘A Map of the World’ (later issued after rebranding themselves Sundown) was a corker, full of epic glam rock and marvellous tunes that knocked the efforts of King Adora, into a cocked hat (cock being the operative word). Ended up changing their name to escape the bad juju that had dogged them and went their separate ways not longer after.
The Cult Classics Film Club
Nobody’s favourite band but mine but then I have lived and breathed those shitastrophes for five years now. I’ve seen the things they’ve done, I’ve heard the music they play, I’ve given them life and I’ve taken it back and I’m magnificently proud of them in every respect except my failure to finish their story. The best imaginary band to get a review in Salvo magazine.
Not much of a live act to my mind but by the power of Greyskull, they could write a tune. 2000 album Slippin’ Out was a fantastic example of how for some bands, the studio not the stage is the natural medium to display their talents.
Untitled Musical Project
Never failed to blow my fucking ears off in a rage of McLusky derived scuzz. A sonic blitzkrieg of great songs (and great song titles e.g. I may not be Jimi Hendrix but at least I’m not dead) delivered by what I can only describe as effete dandies. And none the worse for that I might add.
The Racists/Miss Halliwell
Powered by a musical polymath/borderline autistic with too much imagination and too much time on his hands, The Racists were one of my tips for the future before I’d even seen them live, thanks to one of the most astonishing catalogues of home recordings I’ve ever encountered. As the Racists, they performed a number of incendiary live shows before changing the name to Miss Halliwell in a fit of pique after being asked “are you really racist?” for the MILLIONTH FUCKING TIME! Apparently irony is a concept of limited distribution amongst gig goers. Personnel changes have been many over the years but the musical ambition and creativity of Matt “Miles Per Hower” remains constant and their profile continues to grow.
So there you go. I could have easily waffled on about so many other bands, Johnny Foreigner, Envy and other sins, Distophia, The Gravity Crisis, Adventure Club, The Ripps, Vijay Kishore, Panda Love Unit, The Graham Parsnip Liquidiser Torture Thinktank, The Palantines, Broadcast, Sunset Cinema Club, Photo, The Scarlet Harlots and many more who have been bright moments of joyous rest whilst wading cock-deep in the muddy field of shit that is Birmingham’s music scene. Share 30 points amongst yourselves.
Unfortunately, time and space are at an and I can no longer continuum. I’ve enough energy left to sign off with my nomination for the greatest Birmingham band of the last decade.
Misty’s Big Adventure
I can say nothing further than that I have had more fun watching Misty’s Big Adventure than any other Birmingham band I’ve seen in the last ten years and I fucking love them for it.
As for the next decade, let’s hope Tantrums, The Carpals and Goodnight Lenin all live up to the promise they’re showing.
Fancy having a pop at the top 10 Brum bands of the decade? Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org