Lemmy

Did I meet Lemmy once?

I’m not all that sure truth be told, it may just be a half remembered fevered imagining from a confusing time in my past where alcohol consumption played a pretty big part. I speak of course of the heady days of the Mid-2000s, a time which was still enjoying full blown media interest and success after its post Grunge late 1990s ‘Nu-Metal’ led boon in many areas of ‘Alternative Music’ and in our case it was no different. For we were Psychobillies and our time had come once again. Thanks to the ‘Big Three’ American Label bands- The Horrorpops, Nekromantix and Tiger Army reviving an interest in all things Cowpunk/Billy based the scene was enjoying what some dubbed its ‘3rd Wave’ (and others its ‘4th’ confusing enough). Kids were dumping their skate punk and Emo fashions to adopt an off the peg American punk meets Rockabilly image, this was the start of the cliche fad for all those young Roller Derby women donning the head scarves, retro rocker hair and striking the famous American war effort poster ‘We Can Do It!’ pose in countless selfies today…

Anyway, the long and short of it was that all this interest had encouraged the band I was nominally roading for to pack up their bags and head abroad to play a new American festival and for the next few weeks slob about California preying upon the kindness of other bands there to blag a few gigs. A busman’s holiday of sorts. So off we jetted to play a hurriedly organised festival dedicated to all things Billy… Things did not go well, on arrival it became obvious there was no festival yet bands and fans were arriving from across the globe only to discover the venue was closed up and hurriedly hand scrawled note apologising for the cancelation was pinned on the doors. To this day I’m not sure what happened there, did the promoter leg it with the cash or was he let down by the venue? Anyway, instead of breaking it big to a new legion of fans the band and I had to dust ourselves off and make the best of a bad situation. This seemed to involved no more planning than hiring a car and setting off across the great state of California armed with a few contact numbers and addresses. Thankfully it seemed to pay off and we had enough gigs booked to warrant heading to that nest of vipers, the home of the rock cliché and paradise of the tasteless- Los Angeles. Once there we made a visit of many watering holes and of course the famous Rainbow Bar & Grill – well, it would have been rude not to.

I’m almost certain he was in residence at the Bar & Grill on the week we were propping up the bar attempting to look oh so cool and nonchalant as though we did this sort of thing all the time and hadn’t arrived from Lancashire all giddy with the excitement of being in America and California to boot. All these old ‘Roadie era’ stories start to wear thin and increasingly seem to the desperate ramblings of a man all too aware his youth is well behind him now and an admission that since that time I probably haven’t done enough or I’d have a collection of really cringe worthy, ribald stories about my life since. I think everyone’s getting bored of them, not just me.

That night I know we met and briefly chatted to legendary blue movie monster, the human hedgehog himself Ron Jeremy but he seemed more keen on filling his doggy bags with other diner’s unwanted food than talking to yet another group of excitedly gibbering and rather immature men in a band from another country.

The Rainbow is an odd venue; it’s pokey and large and seems to offer many hiding places for all manner of also rans and nearly famous faces… not just ours. There, like other such bars, exists an unwritten set of rules to save the celebs form the overly excited fans who have wandered into the holy of holies and the staff are ever observant as to who might be pushing their luck with a valued regular.

As we drunk with a mix of jet lag and expensive booze wandered aimlessly around the place we picked up a posse of the similarly lost with no agenda, including the drummer of Hanoi Rocks oddly enough who seemed rather chuffed he’d been recognised and so stuck to us like glue.

If he had been there, and he very well probably was, I probably muttered something daft but intended to be flattering his way, probably offered to buy him a drink but then I would have slunk away to peer at the great man from a curtained corner. I seem to remember he was there but memories a funny bugger with the benefit of 15years past and the added problem of seeing things through a drunken fug.

Lemmy Bar & Grill

A few thoughts on 2015

Well, the year will soon be over and 2016 will be ushered in no doubt with much regretful imbibing of alcohol in the process. This is a wee baby of a blog though, sadly we hadn’t gotten around to sorting out and fully bringing it into the world until the year was almost done an dusted and it’s been at a time where I’ve had a fair bit on and couldn’t really justify logging many hours on scribbling opinions and articles on bands I like and feel others should like too. So here’s a quick rundown of somethings we wish we’d been up and about in time to cover and of what I think are the best albums of 2015… for what’s its worth.

Firstly we remember Brandon Carlisle drummer with the legendary pop punkers Teenage Bottlerocket who was so suddenly and tragically taken from us at the age of 36 in November. I haven’t been able to listen to them since without nearly shedding a tear and his loss sent a palable shockwave through the relatively small and tightknit community of Pop Punk both in the US and UK.

Brandon Carlise

There’s a tribute and benefit gig for the Carlisle family organised by Fraser of the Murderburgers and it’s scheduled for 23rd January at the venue: 13th Note, Glasgow. 8pm start and £5 on the door, money raised will be going to the Carlisle family to cover the costs of the funeral and medical expenses.

Bands booked to appear are:

Teenage Rammyrocket – a TBR tribute act made up of members of The Murderburgers, Kimberly Steaks and Lemonaids.

Manchester’s – Don Blake catchy stuff played by a great band who go from strength to strength whenever I’ve seen them live.

Glasgow’s: The Lemonaids– Surf Pop Punk inspired by the Queers, Ramones et al.

A great night of great music for a great cause. Check out the facebook page here for more up to date information when posted-

https://www.facebook.com/events/426289124226951/

Farewell of course as well to Lemmy, a man who lived the rock n’ roll lifestyle 24/7 and wonderfully hang up free and with no affectations. He was what he was, and if there are any such things as ‘rock n’ roll clichés’ it’s probably because he invented pretty much all of them. Let’s be honest though and admit we’re all a little bit amazed that he lasted to 70 given his diet, drinking and intake of class As over the years. How Death had the nerve to come for him is anyone’s guess. His finest moment for me will always be the raucous appearance on The Young Ones which sent school boys up and down the nation shaking their heads to ‘Ace of Spades’ … and not a pot noodle in sight.

Also we bid farewell to John Bradbury  the late drummer of the Specials and The Specials AKA and his own band the Soul based JB Allstars. Bradbury had joined the Specials  shortly prior to their break out year and  the founding of 2tone and he subsequently would go on to join the post break up version of the band  known as The Specials AKA. In later years he would play again with one of the reformed line ups for the Specials reunion tour.

John Bradbury

ALBUMS of 2015:

My own personal choice for four of the best from the crop of albums which graced my stereo this year are (in no particular order)-

Giuda: ‘Speak Evil’ on Burning Heart Records

Giuda Speaks Evil cover

A rip roaring trawl through some proper Bootboy era Glam Rock reimagined for the 21st century and played by Italians. Slade meets Streetpunk and all carried off with platform booted panache. This is their 3rd and possibly best album yet. For a fuller review check out the earlier post on this blog titled ‘Viva Giuda!’

 

Teenage Bottlerocket: ‘Tales from Wyoming’ on Rise Records

TBR Tales From Wyoming

The sixth and we hope not the last album to be recorded by the band prior to Brandon’s tragic death. TBR have matured well over their existence and it all accumulates in this release which sees a broader, deeper scope of sound whilst still retaining the recognisable TBR formula on the whole Pop Punk thing. As with all the other TBR albums made after Kody joined this one also sees Kody sharing frontman duties with Ray Carlisle and it’s a neat trick as both have very different vocal stylings and bring something entirely different to the songs they’re entrusted to sing.

I loved nearly every minute of it although the ballad-esque ‘For the First Time’ seemed a little out of place tagged on as the final track and had the effect of jarring the listening experience. It’s inclusion is evidence of the band wanting to add a bit more subtlety to their repertoire and it’s no bad thing to have that diversity of tracks rather than wall to wall Pop Punk all the time. This album is evidence enough of why TBR became one of the preeminent bands on the scene.

Desperate Journalist: self-titled on Fierce Panda Records

Desperate Journalist

Ohh! Lovely! Bit of brooding post-punk C86 styled Jangly guitar brilliance. You could almost forgive your ears for making you think this was a period 1980s indie band rather than the young fresh faced 21st century group of talented so n’ so’s which they are. At times the homage to the whole Post Punk/Darkwave thing can become a tad too obvious with song titles such as ‘Control’ and things aren’t helped in that respect by the band also being named after a Peel Session dig by The Cure directed toward formally very important music journalist (and now talking head for hire for all manner of naff retrospective documentaries on BBC4) Paul Morley. But hours of fun could be had by dissecting every minor yet important influence which goes into the melting pot. They’re really very, very good and in an wider indie scene which seemingly can only take its cues from Britpop, the 1960s, New Wave or the more mainstream side of the genre designed for radio playability it’s nice to have something more darker and created of far more earthier substance than the light fluff often tagged as being ‘Indie’ nowadays. Desperate Journalist hark back to the cold dark days after the joyous Punk boon in local bands doing it for themselves, the soundtrack not of the suburbs but of the greying concrete New Town, empty streets and the damp mid-winter of the Thatcher years. Angsty but wonderfully joyous in spirit at the same time and I’ve found them the perfect musical accompaniment to getting ready for a night down at the local ‘Goth Night’ in my home town. They will no doubt draw comparisons to Joy Division, Bauhaus, Echo & The Bunnymen, Siouxie & The Banshees and the early Cure and The Smiths amongst the most obvious on your first few listens but frankly they’ve added a lot more to the equation than just a rehashing the Darkwave sound of old. It’s fresher and far more exciting than being a simple retrospective group. Jo Bevan’s vocals are wonderfully eerie and uplifting cutting through the jangle and excellently crafted music the rest of the band provides. I’m in awe of this band and for once I agree with the plaudits which have been given them by the usually slow on the uptake glossy magazine music press. (a bit of a cheat as this is a 2014 release)

 

The Spitfires: ‘Response’ on Catch 22 Records

spitfires response cover

Let’s get it out of the way now, lead singer Billy Sullivan sounds a lot like Paul Weller in full Post-Punk Jam era swing. The comparison is unavoidable as Sullivan clearly wants to sound like the Modfather but the thing is you frankly don’t care. He’s very good at it and he’s got his own set of hard hitting and emotive songs to back him up. This band of Neo-Mods is well honed and tight and clearly influenced by the Jam rather than say fellow Mod 2nd Wavers the Merton Parkas or even the more recent Ocean Colour Scene but they’ve added enough of their own style and the here and now to make sure they don’t fall into the simple ‘era tribute act’ trap which so often befalls other bands who wear their influences on their short sleeved button down oxford shirts. According to the band’s website they’ve had interest from Paul Weller and even The Specials and have supported both (to say nothing of the sponsorship interest from Ben Sherman) thus further cementing their connection to the late 1970s/1980s Mod and Rude Boy revivals. Thankfully The Spitfires are not destined for the ever decreasing circles of playing the retrospective scene circuit such as Scooter Rallies or Punk/Skin festivals. They’re far too good to become just another roster filler for middle aged men who despite their middle aged spread and thinning hairlines still squeeze into the fashions of their youthful years and get misty eyed and nostalgic whilst drinking and dancing to this sort of thing. It’s about time we had a young band who married the best of the Mod revival with an undeniably modern twist and sound and they’ll appeal to the broader music fan base of whatever passes for the Indie market now.

 

Hello world!

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Punk, Rattle ‘N’ Roll was originally a radio show that ran locally in a small provincial city from 2009 until 2013 and showcased (as the title hopefully conveyed) the best in current and classic Punk, Rockabilly, Punkabilly (and many variations of that ‘Billy’ theme) Freakbeat, Garage Rock as well as Dark Cabaret and yes even Blues & Jazz. To be honest the show simply reflected the host’s many interests in music.

Now it’s the tile of this blog which will feature the odd review, gig report, band update and opinion pieces on everything from subcultural style and fashions to individual scene histories. In that way it is completely unoriginal to hundreds of other Blogs but I hope you’ll dip into it now and then anyway regardless of that admission.