A Life in Bands (continuation)

I don't fuckin' know how band politics work. I'm the new guy so I have to prove myself, right? Who else is in charge? That's what I'm askin' because after a botched recording session, right now I don't know where I fit. Do we really need a dictator in the band? Do we value respect? Or we just don't give a shit because we are rockstars. Are we getting swellheaded because we think we are a re-incarnation of those ye olde Mancunian bands. Right now, I just want to lay all the tracks on a fuckin tape and play music. I don't give a rats arse on how much useless Manchester trivia are there on my wee brain. I don't care what's playing on my MP3 player. I don't care now how much time searchin for a fuckin rare CD in a garage sale or how extensive my record collection are. Which is a few actually. Very few by rockstar standards. Right now, it's all about music. It's sounds a bit syrupy for a guy with battle scars from playing in different bands. But, I've been in the trenches for so long I don't know which is which. Which direction a band should take. I might been overreacting because respect is often earned and you don't need to say fuck you upfront to actually know it's been thrown at you. Just like fuckin' mustard gas, baby. Thank goodness for a massive headache that saved me from further embarrassment from a recording session where people wanted to be stand-up comedians and post-punk trivia wizards instead of shutting up for 6 minutes or so and just play the goddamn song. I shouldn't be blabbering like a cunt because it ain't my house we're using, not my food I'm serving, and last but not the least it's not my fuckin' money. Maybe we don't deserve to record because our minds are all fucked up. We are a good live band. Bloody, Finger Lickin' Fuckin' good. Probably too good for ourselves. Am I giving up? Fuck, can't wait for the whole new bloody session to start. Next time, without the bear necessities. No food, no aircondiltioning. The trenches. We've turned to fat ego-tistical rockstars. We need to get shittied-up. and yes, I'm not from fuckin' manchester.

I'm from fuckin' Salford. It makes a fuckin' difference.


RIP Martin Hannett, I wish I had a gun too...