Happy Fucking Christmarse, New Year, etc etc grumble…
Pah, arse, minge, bah humbug. Motherfucking technology. Whorish inadequate fucking clockwork computers, stumbling blindly through the twentieth century like a fucking homeless card-trick con man at a magicians’ conference.
Over Christmas I tried to record a podcast with the whole family. I asked everyone to pick a couple of songs that made them think of Christmas – not necessarily Christmas songs you understand, just songs that sprung to mind – and then I dragged them all to the computer one by one and we had a chat and introduced the songs. It was almost a great podcast: haphazard, incoherent and yet entirely embodying that family atmosphere you get at Christmas where everyone gets jammed together in a wee house and you all have to make do with one another’s foibles as best you can.
The problem? Well my parents’ stone age fucking computer mostly. It just couldn’t handle the recording process, so all the conversations to introduce the various songs skipped and jumped, lurched and bleeped all over the place. And then, every once in a while, when the useless old fucker got really confused, it just replaced five minutes of conversation with deafening static. How fucking marvellous.
I tried to rescue the raw material on my computer at Proper Job this week, which really is a computer with some bite to match its bark, but no dice. The files were so corrupted it just wouldn’t export anything, so there is no Song, by Toad Yulecast this year I am afraid.
I thought it would be a lovely idea, and there is a great, if somewhat silly, podcast in there somewhere, but the inadequacies of technology have foiled the best laid plans of turds and toads I’m afraid. So, erm, here are a couple of really non-Christmassy songs from the podcast. Fuck.
Better luck next year, wot?
Sex Pistols – God Save the Queen (Mrs. Toad’s choice.)
Bruce Springsteen – Thunder Road (Dad’s choice.)
Frankie Goes to Hollywood – The Power of Love (My Bloody Mother’s choice.)
And, erm, yes. Before we all get too indie and pleased with ourselves, my sister in law dropped this depth charge of cheese into the middle of proceedings and ruined Christmas for everyone. Pa rup a pum fucking pum David? I thought you were cool you muppet.
David Bowie & Bing Crosbie – Little Drummer Boy
the podcast went down the fucking christmas drain, but the blog was fantastic. It gave me more than one good laugh (on the inside)
If your interested in how I get through december, I do it with Tom Waits. Preferably ‘on the nickel’.
crappy new year
On The Nickel may be one of the greatest songs with which history has ever provided us. Praise be to Good King Tom!
man, this is a good music blog;
only thing is you can not listen to the music on firefox on xp; just silence; shame that;
I am on Firefox and XP and I have no problems. Is your computer up to running the little Javascript players all at once and is your connection okay? I am pretty sure it should be working for you.
This makes for interesting reading:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peace_on_Earth/Little_Drummer_Boy
Campfires – I thank you for showing my ungrateful brother in law that David is still cool and that he didn’t even want to sing the song – but he did it for his mother, which is more than we can say for Toad. You should all be happy he didn’t put my other choice on today’s Toadcast…
And in any event, who could possibly be cooler than Bing Crosby? “White Christmas” for Chissakes! “White Christmas”!
Erm, I can’t help but feel that this blog is getting away from me somewhat at moments like this.
Well I happen to agree with your mum, Matthew. I think Frankie’s Power Of Love is nearly as good as the Huey Lewis original.
I also think that the video to the Bowie & Crosby duet is one of the most delicously uncomfortable performances ever committed to film. Bowie tripping his tits off on some dodgy substance or other, powdered essence of Indonesian baby probably; and Crosby standing there in utter bewilderment clearly thinking “…and precisely what the fuck am I doing here?!”
Fantastic stuff – just what Christmas is all about!
Bowie’s hair, too! So pricelessly sensible, from the man known for prancing about in silver jumpsuits!
And don’t egg her on about the Huey Lewis one – she loves that too.
During that performance – you almost see in Crosby’s eyes all the different ways in which he’s planning to torture and maim his agent as soon as the cameras stop rolling.