About Song, by Toad
If you’re looking for the Rough Guide to Self-releasing an Album, it is here.
The Toad Manifesto
Hello Toadlings. I thought I might as well bung up a page on what Song, by Toad is going to be all about, just in case you are even remotely interested.
Popular Music – Honestly, I’ve just lost interest, sorry. I don’t mean this to be a snobby statement about all mainstream music being shit, it’s more that we all only have a limited amount of time for music and I have been so focussed on the more obscure stuff for the last few years that I have to confess I don’t have time for much better-known stuff, and I don’t really feel like I’m missing out, either. So there will be some Nick Cave and some Kurt Vile and some Tom Waits and some Yo La Tengo on here from time to time, but for the most part I am perfectly happy poking around on the margins.
Duplications – I will treat this as if it’s the only music blog you ever read. I know this isn’t true, but it’s nice for me to have a full record of my musical musings as well, so even if The Arcade Fire have been hyped to death everywhere else, I’m still going to stick in my tuppeny’s worth. This means you should always find something here if I’m into it, which I think is also helpful.
Criticism – I will sometimes – not very often – dish out some fairly harsh criticism. I try not to lay into small bands, because I don’t think that’s fair. Once you’ve been in the NME a few times though, I reckon you’re probably big enough that one lone blogger shooting off his mouth is probably no big deal for you, so I’ll consider you fair game. And once you’re Chris Martin, you’ve really got no chance. But then, once you’re Chris Martin do you really give a fuck what anyone says anyway? Honestly though, please don’t take any of it too seriously. Most of it really is quite tongue-in-cheek, or at the very least deliberately exaggerated, so don’t get worked up too much, I’m just taking the piss really. If I particularly irritate you though, do get in touch. Comedy ranting aside, you’ll find I’m surprisingly reasonable, and will happily print someone else’s side of the argument. And always remember, if I had the skills, I’d far rather be writing music than writing about music. Even if I don’t like what you’ve done, I’d still rather be in your shoes.
Personal and off-topic content – I am going to talk a fair bit about my life and random things in the press that interest me and so on. I feel no need to maintain any sort of ‘journalistic integrity’ or ‘professionalism’ unlike some bloggers because, obviously enough, I am neither a journalist, nor do I make any money out of this. Also, music is a personal thing, and I like the personal stories about why people like certain things. I’m guessing there are enough slick, professional sites out there for you if you want something like that. If you want scruffy enthusiasm, this is where you belong.
That’s about it – I think so, anyway. So lots of music chatter, and lots of random nonsense. Get in touch and have your say, it’s more fun like that. Cheers, all – hope you enjoy it.
Swearing - oh yes, forgot this one. If you don’t like the swearing and the inappropriate sexual content… honestly, just fuck off and try pulling that gherkin out of your arse and relaxing a little. Look, it’s all just language, it’s not exactly dangerous. If you really think that any one word in the English language is so traumatising that it is in some way damaging to hear or to read it then honestly, it’s about time someone stuck their dick in your ear and tried to fuck some sense into you. Using the language well, and with wit and enjoyment and passion is a fine thing, and why the flaming bollocks should that preclude a small list of a dozen or so words that you find just that little bit too gauche to be fit for public consumption. Shit piss tits fuck bastard minge flaps cunt arse bollocks and a ratty old growler. Actually, I think ratty old growler might be my favourite naughty euphemism for ladybits in the whole world.
Why Song, by Toad?
Toad of Toad Hall is a character from the fantastic Kenneth Grahame book The Wind in the Willows (full text here). Due largely to my having been a little shit as a kid my Mum always used to call me Toad, because ‘you insufferable little twat’ is apparently not a nice thing to say to a small child. We had a copy on tape, read by the inimitable Kenneth William, which we used to listen to all the time on long car journeys. This tape is where the excerpts on this page come from.
Anyhow, when I was thinking about a name for the blog I was reminded of a passage towards the end of the book. Once they reclaimed Toad Hall from the Stoats and Weasels Toad imagined his triumphant banquet, full of pomp and boasting:
“He quitted the room, accordingly, in the direction of the kitchen, and as soon as the door had closed behind him, Toad hurried to the writing-table. A fine idea had occurred to him while he was talking. He would write the invitations; and he would take care to mention the leading part he had taken in the fight, and how he had laid the Chief Weasel flat; and he would hint at his adventures, and what a career of triumph he had to tell about; and on the fly-leaf he would set out a sort of a programme of entertainment for the evening- something like this, as he sketched it out in his head:
SPEECH By TOAD (There will be other speeches by TOAD during the evening.)
ADDRESS BY TOAD
SONG BY TOAD (Composed by himself.)
OTHER COMPOSITIONS BY TOAD will be sung in the course of the evening by the… COMPOSER.
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The idea pleased him mightily, and he worked very hard and got all the letters finished by noon, at which hour it was reported to him that there was a small and rather bedraggled weasel at the door, inquiring timidly whether he could be of any service to the gentlemen. “
Naturally Badger and Ratty forbade this sort of preposterous nonsense immediately:
“‘Now, look here, Toad,’ said the Rat. ‘It’s about this Banquet, and very sorry I am to have to speak to you like this. But we want you to understand clearly, once and for all, that there are going to be no speeches and no songs. Try and grasp the fact that on this occasion we’re not arguing with you; we’re just telling you.’ Toad saw that he was trapped. They understood him, they saw through him, they had got ahead of him. His pleasant dream was shattered.
‘Mayn’t I sing them just one little song?’ he pleaded piteously.
‘No, not one little song,’ replied the Rat firmly, though his heart bled as he noticed the trembling lip of the poor disappointed Toad. ‘It’s no good, Toady; you know well that your songs are all conceit and boasting and vanity; and your speeches are all self-praise and- and- well, and gross exaggeration and- and-’
‘And gas,’ put in the Badger, in his common way.”
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Acceding to their demands, Toad has to make do with shutting himself in one of his palatial rooms and singing his song to an imaginary audience:
“At last he got up, locked the door, drew the curtains across the windows, collected all the chairs in the room and arranged them in a semicircle, and took up his position in front of them, swelling visibly.
Then he bowed, coughed twice, and, letting himself go, with uplifted voice he sang, to the enraptured audience that his imagination so clearly saw, TOAD’S LAST LITTLE SONG!
The Toad- came- home!
There was panic in the parlours and howling in the halls,
There was crying in the cow-sheds and shrieking in the stalls,
When the Toad- came- home!
When the Toad- came- home!
There was smashing in of window and crashing in of door,
There was chivvying of weasels that fainted on the floor,
When the Toad- came home!
Bang! go the drums!
The trumpeters are tooting and the soldiers are saluting,
And the cannon they are shooting and the motor-cars are hooting,
As the- Hero- comes!
Shout- Hoo-ray!
And let each one of the crowd try and shout it very loud,
In honour of an animal of whom you’re justly proud,
For it’s Toad’s- great- day!
He sang this very loud, with great unction and expression; and when he had done, he sang it all over again.
Then he heaved a deep sigh; a long, long, long sigh.”
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And, hence, Song, by Toad. Does it all make sense now?
