I Am Not The Beatles

Click above for big pictures, click below to play me….

“What’s the matter with the way we look?” begins the lead singer.

One look at the record cover shows what a brave issue this is to raise. There are, it seems, many answers to his enquiry - but for now let’s just say his scarf was probably a bit of a mistake.

“Surely it’s not the end ?” he counters immediately.

Sorry what’s your name? Peter? Well no, it’s obviously not ‘The End’, Peter. There’s no need to overreact, it was just my opinion that’s all.

He interrupts me again: “I only meant to make my emotions clear…” Well, consider yourself very successful in this regard, OK? I won’t mention that bloody scarf again. Jesus.

From hereon, my already admittedly tense relationship with Peter begins to go downhill. He accuses me of worrying too much before completing a total U-turn, asking me to be his friend. This is disturbing bipolar stuff, but it’s not as disturbing as the way he is walking towards me and leaning against the wall - cutting off my only escape route out of the room. He looks at me deeply in the eyes. I try to back away but cannot. He speaks :

“When your heart is weak, I’m gonna pick the lock on it
My fingertips won’t fail me no matter what you do
The love you cannot see yet is about to witness a dawning
And you can twist and turn but you won’t get loose”

The love I cannot see yet ? Errr… Peter? I’ve known you for… what ? A minute and half ? Can I make something very clear : I am not in love with you. It’s not that I cannot ’see’ it ‘yet’, it just isn’t gonna happen. Ever. Also, I don’t like your rather sadistic allusion to me twisting and turning and trying to get ’loose’…

The mood hardens further in the second verse, as Peter’s eyes narrow : “Better forget getting rid of me, I don’t see how you can…”

Oh shit. Now he’s really starting to worry me.

“You put me off and I will hunt you down… again… “

It is at this point that I note it appears Peter really hasn’t forgiven me for that comment about the scarf.

“I’m mighty patient when I have to be, you have given me that
Still I look forward to the day you let me in”

Hang on a minute. First up I haven’t bloody well given you anything apart from a now obviously misplaced snippet of fashion advice. Secondly, if we ever do meet again, I’m not letting you ‘in’ anywhere : not into my group of friends, my house, and certainly not any of my bodily orifices. I am leaving. Now.

I’m starting to panic. After another chorus of Peter trying to make me ’see’ my ‘love’, he frowns at me like a constipated toddler. Oh shit. It’s the middle 8. He jabs me in the stomach :

“I’m gonna prove myself worthy, no more just hanging on without a prayer of a chance”

Will you get out of the way of the door please ? I want to leave.

“I’m gonna come without warning”

Oh no you’re bloody well not. Get your fucking hands off me.

“When your defences are down and you’re in a desperate need”

What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I have no desperate need that involves you, thanks very much - and those are not my ‘defences’ you’re trying to violently pull down Peter, they are my fucking trousers and I am not fucking interested, OK ?

“Oh, I bet you then, you’ll welcome me…”

What exactly am I saying that is so uncomprehensible? I am not ‘welcoming’ you anywhere, Peter. Particularly not there. Now get off me.

Right - this is ridiculous. This conversation is finished. I’m calling the police…

Errrr…..Peter? Peeeeterrr…

… put… down… the knife…

Song Any Good ?

Yeah, it’s alright - it’s one of those songs that you know you’re not supposed to like, but then find yourself inexplicably singing as you walk around Sainsbury’s. You’ll quite enjoy it, as long as you don’t start imagining that you are in a conversation with the lead singer which ends with your own brutal rape and murder.

‘Cock Robbing?’

Stop it.

‘In Your Parted Cheeks’ ?

I said stop it.

Would You Like To Clarify Anything ?

Yes. I would like to categorically point out that Peter Kingsbery has definitely never either raped or murdered me. Nor, I am sure, would he ever have the inclination to do so for one very good reason : he is the lead singer of Cock Robin and definitely not a rapist, a murderer, or a delusional lunatic. In case there is any doubt whatsoever, I am designing a new T-Shirt for our shop :

“Peter Kingsbery Is Innocent’

Please show your support.

So Where Is The Non-Sexually Violent Peter, and His Non-Rapey Friends ?

Well, they’re not here, that’s for sure :

http://www.cockrobinband.com/

unless Peter likes to be called Jim ‘Buzz’ Rummings of a weekend - and this is not their boat :

http://www.cockrobin.com/

But, this is their myspace page and - like so many others on this website before them - they have only gone and bloody reformed :

http://www.myspace.com/peterkingsberycockrobin

Try not to snigger at the fact that the myspace music player shortens the band name to ‘Peter Kingsbery and Cock’. I certainly didn’t.

Tempted ? Then buy their newest album :

http://tinyurl.com/32kwp4

Not tempted - but want the old one ?

http://tinyurl.com/2yznqg

Anything To Add ?

Yes, the name of the keyboard player - Anna LaCazio - is actually a hilarious pseuydonym coined by our Peter because she turned up for the band audition with a shitty Casio keyboard rather than something posh like a DX7 or something.

He would have to eat his words these days though - the latest Casio keyboard has 61 keys, 500 ‘high quality tones’ a whopping 120 rhythms and a ‘Voice Fingering Guide’ :

http://tinyurl.com/2bgh53

You can’t ask for much more than that can you ?

Money Update

Cost : 8 pence

Current value : 2 pounds and 89 pence. Neither exciting, nor crap.

Current profit : 91 pounds and 35 pence. Incidentally, a few posts back I claimed that Randy Travis was the most successful song on here, because everything else had completely failed to chart. It turns out I was wrong. One other record here did chart - and get to a higher place than Randy. Number 50 to be precise. Who ? Gay Gordon. And The Mince Pies

Bloody hell.

Click above for big pictures, click below to play me…

The breakdown of any long term relationship is a devastating time for everyone involved.

If you are friends with the two poor suffering individuals, it can be an emotionally fraught experience for you too. The word ‘divorced’ is clinical law based phraseology hiding all the bitterness that flows like molten lava beneath the surface, burning and scolding everything in its path. We have all seen friends get divorced, and to watch people you care about go through such intense emotional hardship is beyond words.

In the case of marriage, two people are so utterly convinced in the loving bond of trust they have discovered in each others inner selves, they express this commitment and desire to be together for the rest of their lives in the form of vows - in front of overjoyed friends and family. To see this kindness and sensitive openness years later descend into vitriol, hate, humiliation and disgust in each other is a lesson into how fragile the human condition truly is.

At least, that’s my opinion.

Alan Darby disagrees.

There is a common truism in the recycling world that there is no ‘away’ to throw things. This maybe correct, but you get the feeling on this record that Alan seems to believe that he has at least found an ‘away’ to throw his end - into a friend of his : a scared, emotionally scarred and about to be divorced woman. He keeps trying to appear caring and loving and not thinking about her pants but no matter how many times he re-phrases his words, his penis keeps rearing it’s ugly head.

The main chorus, for example, starts with a really lovely image of the couple in question at the beginning of their love affair. They are a ‘boy and girl’, with heads in hearts. That’s an arresting thought isn’t it? Your head in both your own heart and the heart of your lover. These two intertwined people then sadly turn, years later, into a lonesome ‘man and woman, dancing apart’. Nice, eh?

He soon ruins it though. He can’t help using this distance on the dancefloor between the two estranged lovers to his own advantage, and motions over to the lady in question to “Come closer, and talk to me.” If I was this woman I wouldn’t be tempted, as I suspect the word ‘closer’ in Alan’s strange world actually means ‘into a toilet cubicle’ and ‘me’ means ‘my penis’.

The dirty bastard.

What’s the music like ?

Disturbing.

If you make it to two minutes, this song has the worst guitar solo you will perhaps ever hear. It’s like listening to a gurning middle aged man cutting down metal trees with a chainsaw.

Then in the outro, having demolished them, he inexplicably turns into Sting – and there’s no need for that.

Ok, We’ve Suffered, Is Alan Still Around ?

Yes he is, and what is more I can guarantee that some of you have actually seen him play live recently…

http://www.wwry-london.co.uk/index.php?page=band

Yes, in the past he has been incredibly successful as a session musician with Eric Clapton and his ilk, and is now… a member of the house band for the Queen musical ‘We Will Rock You’.

Now, Alan and I differ in alot of ways. I wouldn’t use a friend’s catastrophic relationship collapse to try and sleep with them, and I also wouldn’t go anywhere near ‘We Will Rock You’ the musical as I believe it is unlikely to be anything other than a rather large pile of poo. Alan, however, I am sure doesn’t care in either respect - and I don’t blame him. I am sure he is getting paid more than I do and he is doing something that likes. In short : I Hate Him.

The link above also tells us that dear old Alan also writes music for the telly… let’s have a look… errr… well it is a slight misnomer, but he does write library music that possibly could turn up on the TV…. oooh, hang on… calm yourselves… here is a whole album of the stuff streaming online for your delectation :

http://www.dewolfe.co.uk/musicsearch/cd_tracks.php?cdnumber=RMCD%202051

Need to remove tension and stress ? Why not pour yourself a relaxing bath of Radox and listen to ’Turtle Watch’ ? ‘Peaceful, Reflective, Uplifting’… it’s bound to work.

Gosh, he’s done loads our Alan : he seems to have kick started his career by writing the theme music for a 1984 film about Barry Sheene called ’Space Riders’

which, according to IMDB, also features a young Marina Sirtis in the rather unenviable role of ’Girl In Porsche’ and music by Queen. In an odd way then, Alan’s career has come full circle - starting and ending (at least for now) under the gaze of Brian May and his loveable spandexed chums… and, for some reason, I find that all vaguely comforting - now, where did I put that Radox?

Money Update

Cost : 8 pence

Current Value: They are hilariously wide ranging. From somebody trying to cash in on all that ‘We Will Rock You’ nonsense by charging 26 pounds, to somebody who is being a little more realistic and asking for, well, 1 pound and 65 pence.

Current Profit : 88 pounds 44 pence. The nineties lie tantalizingly ahead of us – but it’s slow going. Though not exactly still, we are definitely suffering.

EDIT : New information available in ‘Corrections and Clarifications’

Click above for big pictures, below to play me…

“Perfume from Spain again and all I want is eggs for tea” the vocalist sings in the chorus. How strange. What a weird couple of disparate objects to be presented with – perfume and eggs. I am not sure I could express a preference for one over the other.

My local pub for example serves the best double egg and chips in the world and only charges me 1 pound 99 pence for the privilege of eating it. If I was peckish, in the vicinity and only had a few quid on me I would be choosing those eggs over any Spanish perfume, no matter how delightfully pongy it may be.

However, if a good looking stranger then suddenly swept into the bar wearing my favourite scent, blatantly eyed me up and down, then whispered into my ear precisely what wonderfully filthy things they wished to do to me, I would be hard pressed to say “Hmmm… No, I don’t think so. Just the eggs for me thanks”.

Context is all, and perfume and eggs are two totally random items that should never need to be compared. It’s like asking me if I prefer crocodiles or oral sex – I can think of no situation where both would be needed at the same time, so why choose ?

The female singer in Dr Calculus has no such qualms about expressing preferences between apparently unconnected things such as perfume and eggs. For her she wants the eggs - every time.

What’s The Song Like ?

Absolutely totally fucking brilliant. How did this manage not to be a hit ? I am genuinely perplexed. All it needs now is to be picked up by an ad agency and used as a cool retro soundtrack for some suntan lotion or whatever – and the hit it so deserves to be can still happen.

Do you work in advertising ?

Go on… you know you want to.

What’s So Good About It ?

It’s got everything you could possibly want in a pop song : perfume, eggs, a bassline Jah Wobble would be proud of, a posh woman who can’t really sing, a nice bit near the middle that sounds like Pigbag, the best ending on here yet, a couple of totally nonsensical raps, a sample of someone going ‘Yep’ in a deep voice every now and again, much use of the word ‘groovy’ and the line

“When you let go, your mind goes Yo”

What’s not to like ?

Who were Dr Calculus ?

Take a look at the back cover and all is suddenly revealed : it’s only bloody Stephen ‘Tintin’ Duffy – or the best pop star the eighties lost.

Kiss Me ? Pop genius.

Icing On The Cake ? Bloody marvellous.

The Lilac Time ? Lovely.

* Important note : In this deification of Mr Duffy we are purposely ignoring all that nonsense with Robbie Williams. Everyone’s allowed an off day.

Where Is Lovely Stephen Now ?

He’s here with his new album ‘The Passenger’ :

http://www.thelilactime.com/newsblog.php

I must announce yet another I Am Not The Beatles coincidence : the Dr Calculus album ‘Designer Beatnik’ after being unavailable for 21 years was re-released just three and a half weeks ago on that new fangled Internet for download only. Track it down and download it now. I have and it really is quite delightfully silly : like Art Of Noise, with extra chunks.

http://www.ireallylovemusic.co.uk/dance/dr_calculus.html

Weird though innit ? In the three of the last four posts, two people have reformed at that exact moment (FM, When In Rome) or, in this case re-released stuff. If this happens again I’m going have to give God a right talking too – he’s starting to freak me out.

The Sleeve Also Mentions Paul Stavely O’Duffy… are they perchance related?

I don’t think so – but the fact he worked on it does mean that this record is strangely connected to homeless hedgehogs. How so? Well, he is the man behind the buttons for… Swing Out Sister.

He has also worked with Was (Not Was), John Barry, Dusty Springfield, Curiosity Killed the Cat, The Pretenders, Lisa Stansfield, Barry Manilow, Culture Club and, errr, Bellefire.

http://www.bellefiremusic.com/

The Cole Porter Connection

OK, this is really interesting…

The original lyric to Cole Porter’s 1934 song ‘I Get A Kick Of You’ was

Some get a kick from cocaine.

I’m sure that if I took even one sniff

That would bore me terrifically too,

Yet I get a kick out of you.

The cocaine reference in the first line was changed to the words ‘perfume from Spain’ when re-recorded as a single by Frank Sinatra in the 50’s, so as not to be controversial.

Now, Stephen Duffy looks like a clever chap – and it seems highly unlikely he stumbled onto the same phrase by complete accident - so this gives the very real possibility that the Dr Calculus song is using the phrase ‘Perfume from Spain’ to make an allusion (to an allusion) to cocaine. Clever, eh ? So, just like Cole Porter’s original, Perfume From Spain could actually be all about boredom with drug taking. ie I Get A Kick Out Of You, but with the ‘You’ bit transposed to eggs. In other words, I Get A Kick Out Of Eggs :

“ A line of cocaine again

But all I want is eggs for tea”

For the interested, you can read all about the Cole Porter word change here :

http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_qa3822/is_199904/ai_n8838482/pg_2

When you’ve read that, stick with me – here is where everything gets really weird…

The Eggs

For the sake of this investigation, Venezuelans do three very important things :

a) They speak a dialect of Spanish

b) They produce shitloads of cocaine

c) They have a famous dish prepared with butter, sautéed diced onions, tomatoes, and eggs. It is considered to be a tropical version of the British scrambled eggs, and also includes ground pepper, annatto and occasionally ají.

Spain, Cocaine, Eggs.

The egg dish is called ‘Perico’.

‘Perico’ also means ‘Parakeet’ and ‘Parrot’ in the Venezuelan language and it is also street slang for… ‘Cocaine’ - because cocaine is known for making people squawk and speak non-stop, like a parrot. Apparently, when the word ‘Perico’ became too well known to the police, suppliers of cocaine thought for a bit and then reverted to the original Venezuelan double meaning of the word ‘Perico’ and started calling cocaine… ‘Eggs’.

The Conclusion

If this theory is correct, this is not a song about boredom with drugs but the addiction to them – and the chorus of ‘Perfume Of Spain’ should actually read

“ A line of cocaine again

And then more cocaine for tea.”

And let’s not forget : “when you let go, your mind goes Yo”

Do You Have A Really Desperate Link to Try And Substantiate This Almost Libellous Cocaine Theory About That Nice Mr Duffy?

Errr… yes I do.

I think that so called ‘doctor’ who keeps pestering the posh woman with postcards from San Francisco bay is in fact her drug dealer waiting for the next shipment. According to this article

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2006/03/26/TRG02HFH0120.DTL

‘tourism’ from San Francisco to Venezuela is on the increase. Yeah right.

Suspicious, or what ?

Money Update

Cost : 8 pence

Current Value : 4 pounds and seven pence, which isn’t bad.

Current Profit : 86 pounds and 67 pence. For a final piece of cocaine related madness, here is a word document looking at cocaine using (ahem) calculus :

http://tinyurl.com/322o34

Apparently, the cocaine market looks like this :

Gosh. One second we’re talking about Mike Berry shitting on a table, the next we’re discussing the cocaine market with the help of calculus. This pop music malarkey certainly takes you to strange places, doesn’t it ?

EDIT : New information in ‘Corrections and Clarifications’