I have been scarred. The most ridiculous statement was made to me today, which left me truly traumatised. It was such a surreal event I felt the need to put it in writing to prove to myself it was true.
It had been a weird day already. The picking of a home-grown first tomato of the season should have been a celebration of nature, manure and the power of the sun – but because the first picked tomato was the size, colour and shape of a pair of human male testes, the moment was slightly tainted. You could certainly tell it was organic.
The home-grown plums were no better (perhaps not surprisingly) with several of them mutating into weird double bagged little testie-like chaps, even down to the wrinkly skin…
We were to attend a 'do' that evening which was labelled a joint Wedding celebration and Christening and the invite said turn up at the stupidly early time of 5.00pm, so we duly arrived with presents for the happy three.
It was a ’work’ do as the proper wedding had happened several weeks earlier and the party had been tagged onto the christening for people deemed not good enough to attend the wedding proper. Held at a large sports arena it was a hideous affair. DJ “60’s Sounds” was playing, perhaps predictably, 60’s sounds, and small children were dancing with embarrassed looking aunts and uncles. Standard wedding stuff.
A spherical woman approached. I stood behind my wife as she was engulfed in a suffocating hug.
“Where are you working now?” was the pointless fucking enquiry.
Why is it every time I end up at a works 'do' the same question is asked as if there is nothing else in life? (which, lets face it, for a lot of these people there isn’t). Many of my close friends never talk about my/their work and that is precisely why they are my friends. Several of them I haven’t a clue what they do (although I have my suspicions) but I do not care.
Anyway, we were invited to join the fat woman and her similarly proportioned husband, Bill, for a few drinks and a chat about the “old times” (filing, PC breakdowns, tea/coffee club, working time directive, etc. probably) I had still not been introduced to said fat woman as my wife did not remember her name, which says something about their relationship. Sitting together in their stretch to fit clothes, our new ‘friends’ resembled two hideous, volumous bags of marshmallows.
The women proceed to talk uncomfortably about the “old times” whilst Bill and I cordially raised our glasses and tried to think of something we could talk about. Luckily a band of 4 greying blokes of pensionable age were setting up on stage. Suddenly and surprisingly they pulled their considerable stomachs in and launched into an energetic version of the Spencer Davis Group 60’s hit “Keep on Running”. Their version was loud, raw and really pretty good. I said to Bill that it was nice to hear some decent 1960’s music – my first mistake of the evening.
To engage Bill in conversation was as wise as a small fish engaging a large shark about its eating habits.
“You like 60’s music then?” he stared at me suspiciously.
“Well, yes” I replied cautiously.
“Right, what’s your favourite 60’s band then?”.
His response was terrifyingly aggressive, as if I had never heard any music pre 1990. (Note: I am 41 years of age and have been listening to music since the 1960’s). He might as well added the words “…you cunt” to every question, he was that genial.
“OK, I like Tamla Motown stuff – Temptations, the Miracles….errr,
The Kinks, beat stuff generally, ska music…”
I nervously replied as he was eyeing me like a farmers wife eyes a lump of cow
shit on her carpet.
“What 60’s stuff do you like” I tried to deflect his glare – and it worked. He was off and unstoppable, although I reckon the ravages of time had addled his undoubtedly small brain.
“Carl Perkins, Fats Domino, Eddie Cochran…"
Is it me or weren’t these performers primarily known for their 1950’s hits? I know Eddie Cochran died at the beginning of the 60’s but I thought it best not to start a pedantic argument with someone who was clearly used to having them.
“OK, here’s a question
for you” he said, the psychopath was sort of smiling – somehow the
ice had been broken.
“Who is the undisputed King of Rock and Roll?”
Before I tell you my answer let us carefully consider the question asked by breaking it down into segments.
Undisputable – this surely means beyond dispute – i.e. no-one could really argue with it. No question about the answer to this…. OK – easy first bit.
King – Top, best, supreme exponent of, better than the rest, etc. - another simple and straightforward statement I thought.
Rock and Roll – a bit trickier, as Rock and Roll music has been around for over 50 years but most amateurs and experts alike would probably describe the 1950’s as the first and proper Rock and Roll era. Some (not me) may argue that the Beatles or other 60’s innovators deserve this title but as Bill had been just discussing the 1950’s I correctly judged this was the era he meant.
“Carl Perkins” – I thought by repeating one of his answers I may actually get it.
“Nope”
I quickly followed up with the obvious answer he and I knew I would say, “Elvis Presley?"
“Nope” he laughed.
“Link Wray” I hesitantly offered, hoping not to piss him off again.
“Who?” he helpfully queried. I should have walked away in disgust at this point - (my 2nd mistake).
“OK, …. Little Richard?”
“Not even close”. Then the twat offered a bizarre clue, “Wrong side of the Atlantic”
This threw me a little, could he mean Cliff Richard? “Nope” was the answer. As RnR originated in the US I was a little confused how a European could be considered the King of it unless they really were an extraordinary talent but I continued the quest. Billy Fury, Lonnie Donegan and Marty Wilde brought the same response. I was getting fairly nervous and more than a little frustrated by this oaf’s complete lack of taste. Had I missed a true legend of British RnR? Suddenly it came to me,“Joe Brown?”
“Aha!” Bill exclaimed, ”Nearly, he is the Prince of Rock and Roll”
Joe fucking Brown? Can you believe it? This completely stumped me so I gave up and asked him to either give me the answer or kill me with a gun.
“I’m amazed you didn’t get it. The undisputed King of Rock and Roll is……” he paused as if he were introducing him at Wembley, “..Tommy Steele”
Fuck me, I should have guessed -
obviously the true King of Rock and Roll, who could dispute that? I couldn’t
even bring myself to comment on this incredible statement. I was in a complete
state of shock.
Then the final aggressive taunt, “If you haven’t heard his stuff you should be ashamed of yourself”.
That….from some cunt who doesn’t know who Link Wray is. That was the end of the conversation. I got rat-arsed on flat Guinness whilst the music lover ate the buffet almost single-handedly.
Next day feeling ashamed of myself,
I decided to do some research to see if I had missed maybe 50 raucous rocking
singles and maybe 25 or 30 top selling albums of self penned rock and roll classics,
and I was rewarded.
Apparently Steele had a hit with “Rock with the Caveman” which sounds
a bit like a novelty record to me, another with a song called “Egg &
Chips” (surely not another novelty?) as well as a few covers like Ritchie
Valens’ “Come on, let’s go” and that old chestnut, “Singin’
the Blues”. There followed such rockers (not novelties) as ”Little
White Bull”, “Half a Sixpence”, “What a Mouth, What
a Mouth”. Wow, the King of Rock and Roll lives.
So, yes, thanks for enlightening me Bill. I am burning all my Elvis albums, all my Link Wray, plus whilst I’m at it, Bo Diddley, Gene Vincent, Kinks, Ramones, Sonics, Velvet Underground, Byrds, Hendrix, Sex Pistols, Stone Roses, Captain Beefheart, Libby & the Family Cookin’, etc. It has, I admit become an obsession.
Whilst I’m at it I am also
burning all the books I can find, for the Cultural Revolution is nigh.