Sinister: I Know Ellman Crasnow Would Approve

[P F]

Romance is over. Shocks are apparently still on. Will
their paths *ever* cross again, anywhere in the
*world*?

Slot Jockey retain title by default as reported
earlier.

Other results now in.

In a secret ballot in London's important London Bridge
area, some geezer from Chelmsford was voted 'Hero of
the Festival'. It was secret because most of the
people at the festival didn't participate, because it
was a secret. So I wouldn't set too much store by the
result.

In a pub in sleepy Rye it was revealed that Heart's
'Magic Man' was the original inspiration for
chickfactor. No, not the song, dummy - what do you 
think this is, The Belle and Sebastian Mailing List?

Some BOYS (yawn) watched some FOOTBALL GAMES or
something (zzz). Bo-ring!

Ross MacManus Aware for Secret Drinker of the Festival
went to longtime Jim Taylor for smuggling in a
different drink each set, hidden in his comedy David
James Gloves (TM). One night it was Jack Daniels, then
on came the red wine, then orange juice, then Aztec
Camera.

Camera of the weekend was the pinefox's for
double-exposing 20 shots and hence putting Alasdair
Cook on top of the top of the bar or something,
probably, whatever, who knows, when they come out,
whenever that is.

Ruralism of the weekend was Hopkins' 'There've been an
accident *up countree*'. It reminded me that his
definition of rural is short and sweet, as he has
virtually announced somewhere or other.

Joke of the weekend was a late entrant, and involved
Jim('my') White saying that pool was not really his
game. It's a good 'un, innit? You have to admit it.

Meanwhile, thrills on the various stages were at fever
pitch. Things got off to a flyer with I Can't Believe
It's Not Sun Ra, La, and moved on to Porpoise's
five-hour set of oceanic flipper noises. Only DaMo was
unimpressed. On the second stage Mike Ladd performed a
moving reminiscence of his childhood in Wales, to the
sound of a lonely pendulum. The pace picked up as the
reformed Run-DMC took the stage. Can I just say at
this point: Run-DMC, you rock 'da' house!!

On Saturday Tony Hares' disappointing set was ended
abruptly by an incident involving a television aerial
and half a bottle of Blue Nun. Nabisco showed us that
the trumpet was the future of disco biscuits. (When I
was growing up, 'biscuit' meant a gothic girl.
Whatever happened to that usage?) Porkbarrel bid for
the Guinness Book of Records by playing one song for
the longest extended period of time, roughly 90
minutes, with occasional dramatic pauses, without
removing headwear.

Drama.

The Eternals were fined for playing a mere hour. Derek
Bentley appeared in the form of a cardboard cut-out,
demanding justice for victims of Elvis Costello
lyrics. The MacManus winner (as mentioned above)
intervened forcefully, true to a recent history of
activism, and got the bar closed early. TCP was
cancelled. Infections spread, infectiously.

Back in the Queen the question must be asked: Is Vic
There? Tim Hopkins was at it again, bidding for a
place in the Guinness Book of Guinness, and listening
to Records. Bored Of Woking rounded off the night by
playing Style Council records backwards. It's not
easily done. CAMpbell, for one, was impressed, and
soon took a knock. She may be out for the rest of the
festival season.

On Sunday the bells had barely ceased, and romance had
only just been declared dead, when Testcard entered
the fray. Stobes strobed the room. People were so
affected by the strobe lighting they couldn't find the
signs telling them that they should be careful of the
strobe lighting. It didn't matter too much, though, as
its effects were dissipated by a numbing, unlistenable
sonic dirge. Phew!

Ko-E Akiburo plugged in for the first time in this
listener's experience since that rehearsal in The
Gadget Rooms in Plymouth, when they played that
15-minute version of 'She's In Clouds'. Listening to
the three chords pummelling away for hour after hour
was like coming home. Ivan Salcedo was spotted smiling
with fond memories of Endless Drone. When Ko-E sang
'Rocket #149 has just taken off for Venus', one could
almost see the rocket taking off for Venus. It was as
though that 'Venus-Rocket' had been conjured up in our
imaginations with the sheer power of words - and
music! 
For an encore Ko-E were replaced by Dave and the
Moonbeams, rushed in from the Good Companions (Old
Costessey), with covers of old Ramones and Blondie
numbers. Nice one, Dave! And Sheila's still looking
good on keyboards! Hey, mate - if you're reading this
- you owe me a pint!!

The weekend's major disappointment came from Lloyd and
the Verlaines, who made sure their instruments were in
tune and kept playing notes in the 'relevant' 'scales'
on their guitars. In many ways they totally misjudged
the whole ethos of the event. They had reportedly
reformed ten years previously in order to start
practising for this show, and it showed. At one point
Lloyd declared 'We like to play cool virtuoso
intertwining lead guitar parts that seem to leave the
air smouldering so much more than we like to make a
barrage of tedious, uninspired, witless and irritating
Emperor's-New-Clothes noise'. That did it for me. The
irony was lost on me, and I left.

In many ways football was the loser.



Ron?


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