|
| Foocha! is a non-profit Web site. We do it for kicks, not for cash. If you're interested in writing for the site, click here |
|
 |
|
|
 |
|
| Talk,
Justin Harries,
11 January 1999 | |
|
| |
| |
|
There have been horror stories running through the press recently. Stories that touch right to ones heart, so that you can feel the failing pulse of your mortality, and know that the death rattle is within earshot. Yes, I’m talking about the Smiths reunion tour, and the knowledge that a band of my youth has had the time to ascend the charts, break up acrimoniously, pursue separate though rather tawdry careers and then reunite. You know, bring it to the new generation rather like Star Wars. They could have a snthythised drummer and bass player (although suing the asses off messes Morrisey and Marr, I wager when they smell a whiff of the green evil, they’ll hop right back in).
I wasn’t entirely convinced by the Smiths the first time round, but was certainly aware of how their particular brand of jangled neurosis was affecting the kids on the street (or rather as I was concerned, the Home Counties). So these recent rumours about burying the hatchet and embarking on a mission to remind the masses of fat girls in seaside towns had me counting down the years.
When I was younger my friends and I stood against the regurited crap that we saw being played out in our Village halls. The nearly decomposing smiles of the bands of the ‘Golden Years of Pop’ tried to convince our parents that everything was all right, that the world was safe, caught in eternal time loop. This was proper music, made in an era when music really mattered they claimed, infact, so vilified by these greying reruns, the way they talked made you feel like throwing your record player out the window.
I really hope ‘the kids’ of today hate the Smiths. I want them to say things like – "I wanna kick that whiny old ponces haemorrhoids out" or "Kill them. Kill them all."
Just imagine how depressing and embarrassing it would have been if you had been an original Sex Pistols fan during their reformation. ‘It’s brilliant’ the papers gushed’ Yeah, the Sex Pistols where a load of crap in the first place, they were only in for the money, it’s the perfect end to their career’. I bet this would of made you feel a lot better, the band you staked your life upon were indeed a bunch of sad, money grabbing gits who had no integrity in the first place. You were fooled. You were a loser.
Let’s face it, no one gets out of the pop scene with integrity. As a pop star you have few options. One of them is you become an actor. This happened with Sting. Now, people who don’t hate ageing pop stars seem to dislike this man with bile usually reserved for Middle Eastern dictatorsÂ…. Go figure. You could become one of these mechanised Ye oldy roady shows as we spoke of earlier. I could just imagine the Backstreet Boys at Wigan peer. One band who seem to of got it right is Boyzone. Their music seems specifically aimed at senile old women already.
Anyway I was relieved to read later that the rumours of the reunion were utter tripe, completely unfounded! Thank God, no need to order that sit down bath as advertised on TV. Now one has to mark the time of the reunion, as Blur have just done whilst ‘splitting up’. The twilight career of a pop act is a sad and lonely road – one needs time to look back, to embrace the old days and remember yes, how good it used to be. Oh, and to finish paying off the mortgage too.
Top Home |
|
|
|
|
