When Japan produced the strangest discordance

Such a superficially happy place Japan seems today. No anger is displayed outwardly; and I feel little is felt inwardly. This can't be true. Dormant volcanoes bide their time after seeming inactive for centuries. The aftermath of rapid economic growth and the appearance of meat-munching middle-class offspring, whose height towers over westerners brought up on junk food, signal there has been a big change. Why wouldnt they be satisfied? Smiles are everywhere, which is good, what what?

It's a long time since there were riots in Tokyo and Kyoto, and according to a colleague I spoke to last week this was mainly in protest of the Vietnam war. A generation tired of kowtowing to a foreign master exploded - for a short while. That foreign master has taken over the culture, though not the language. English is held at arms length and a Japaanising of English took place.

Around the time of the above riots, the bass player from Les Rallizes Denudes is said to have taken part in the hijacking of a plane bound for Pyongyang. The singer was asked to participate - such was the groups connections to radical groups formed whilst at university - in terrorism. But who knows the truth? I suspect much is mythmaking. I don't even believe the story that they handed out political texts to junior high school students for their concerts. How could such a group be invited to play to JHS students? If ir happened, what a treat for the creative!

There is no sign of radicalism with today's students. Campuses without beer, few after-hours meetings, or even radio stations. No lingering on campuses either. Get them bussed out quick sharpish. Back in the 1970s, singer Takashi Mizutani suggested rebel culture existed. He wasnt merely aping Lou Reed and psychedelia as I first thought. His group veered into drone rock with texts tinged with subversiveness, which is hard to imagine coming from this current crop of eager-to-please conformists. Maybe I'm not looking in the rite places?

But yes, their music from this period was great. Les Rallizes Denudes, combo who had political links with a whole host of groups antagonistic to the state, and who functioned sporadically between 1967 and 1982. Julian Cope has just put a stream to a newish collection on his website, and, in a week when many are talking about the Jesus and Mary Chain revival, it's good to hear some music which covers the pure path they once trod. Perhaps the Chain knew of Rallizes as a definite link is there.

The savage guitar in the tracks mid-way through Fightless Bird tramples over the likes of Sonic Youth and the Chain, succeeding without question with Flames of Ice. Listening to (what I think is) Enter The Mirror/Smokin' Cigarette Blues/Flames of Ice is taking me back to the first time I heard certain groups that made inroads into taste buds. The only downer is that some tracks have been mastered from recordings of recordings released in small quantities or via bootlegged from their infrequent concerts.

Flames of Ice: what a fantastic track!

They didn't enter the business for money. No need for accountants. Deeply sinister with their repetitive simplistic bass riffs that splinter behind disconcertingly glassy lead guitars. I really didn't think such intense music could be created here - how wrong I was. The possibility of making such music will be drummed out of them through the schooling of most. Or maybe new foods have moulded their minds to be placid and content. Anyway,though I'm not going to rush out and buy all Rallizes' work, if only as it's too darn expensive, at least I'm aware of their splendid works, which take me back to the first rush from bands I've shared much of my life with. It's a relief (to me) that Japan didn't always have Stipey Smiley Happy People.

A RAVE participant ties the knot

A few words from Sharms partner in Grime:

I've had the pleasure of knowing Mark since we both were selected to train at Lincoln City FC'S . School of Excellence" in what must have been 1984 or 1985. Twenty years ago! And how we both have changed!  I'm in Tokyo now, and Sharm's carved a fantastic life in London. He attended my wedding a few years ago, and unfortunately I am unable to attend his. 

But I can't let the occasion go without a few words. 

"I have much to thank Mark for, as our friendship has taken in some key life events for the both of us. I was lucky enough to work with him when his radio career began at university and drank in the same bars as him in Lincoln.  In all this, Sharm's kindness and friendship continually shone. In many ways I would not be in the situation of living well in Tokyo without his influence. 

Rewind 20 years and I was quite a scared, confused lad from Lincoln's finest council estate: St Giles. My peers lived in Swift' Gardens where fierce Bees dwelling in many Barnes made it a rough place to reside. But friendship came with 12 year old Mark - of Westgate school - and through him I deepened friendships with the likes of Huw, of Mont and of Vaso. I was able to extend my world beyond St Giles.

A major catalyst was the manager of Lincoln City Under 13's: Ian "Willie" Wilson. He regularly picked us up for matches in his black Mini Metro. I became good friends with Mark as a result of this. We soon began to play football together at the field at the back of his mothers house. It was quite a culture shock, visiting mates on Lee Road. Mark and his mother (unlike others) dismissed any snobbery - which was always there - towards my status of living on a council estate with a questionable reputation...

I can confidently say that this was related to me passing A' levels and getting to university. For that I cannot thank Mark enough. Seriously. 

Fast forward to 1995 and there was the Sharm and Grime radio show at Hull University- something that allowed Sharm the chance to develop the talent he is showing a wider audience. Sharm introduced items to fit with the laddish times, Who Deserves A Good Kicking, as well as taking a responsible managerial role for the program. Without his professionalism, we wouldn't have become (as far as I know) the only programme that had the studio stormed with enthused fans, delighted with our mix of Meat Beat Manifesto, Iggy Pop, Red Hot Chili Peppers and the Maiden. 

It comes as no surprise that he has made such a success of his career so far.  And here's to many more awards and success to both he and Melissa. 

Speaking of Melissa - that's one thing that's surprised me: How can a man who exists on cereal without milk and an aversion to all things green and healthy have pulled such a beauty! (Sorry Mark, but I couldn't see that one coming. Please eat your greens to stay healthy for the lass!)

I can't let this brief speech go without mention of his goal against St Helens in 1987.  Playing for Lincoln City boys, Sharm had carved a reputation as being a predator within the penalty box, and scored quite a few timely goals. But (and I wish someone had recorded this) nobody could believe the goal he scored that day. With a Chris Waddle dribbling technique, he decided to take on the whole St. Helens team. Twice. It could even have been thrice. It was the best individual goal I've ever seen. Think of the classic Maradona goal against England in 1990, and imagine Sharm gliding past not four defenders, but an entire team. 

Time stopped still as Sharm twisted and turned around players seemingly without concern for the goal he should have been aiming for.  But he reached there, after covering almost every blade of grass in the St Helens half, and scored a momentous goal.  It's a shame he didn't do that more often, but possibly Mark's footballing fate was the reverse of Samson's fate. Sharm should never have grown that Richard Reidesque mullet in the Caysus Calling days. 

Growing the hair zapped his footballing power. Football's loss was the BBC's gain. 

As you know, it's impossible for us to attend, but we wish you and Melissa the best on this splendid day." 

 Cheers!

German Medicine for Work-related Blues.

Vultures surrounded me today.

Feasting on deliberately sped up phrase,

Thinking I was an object; they were talking to themselves.

They merely talked to themselves.

Vultures surrounded me today.

Feasting on banal ejaculate,

Forgetting I was a subject; they talked to a mirror

Seizing words reflected off my handsome face.

The vultures dove in,

Beaks reddening with lust

Glares piercing my skin,

Seeing the joy that can be gained,

When talking to a deranged mannequin.

Roll up! Roll up! 

Oh see the mannequin's pain.

Roll up! Roll up! 

Oh see the tears rain.

Vultures draining the water

that fuelled mein handsome face

A grope

 and

 a pinch

 did serve to 

drain the pipes.

Call the plumbers up; let the river run free!

Uproot the tree and carve a scaffold for all.

Not only the bloody: the Meek too!

The late 70s/early 80s German art punk/rock band, La! Dusseldorf are needed in times like these. Today, after refusing factory food, I searched for Disc Union and travelled to the 8th floor. There, the 3rd La! Dusseldorf LP was waiting for me. Joy. Regardless of its dismissal by hardcore Krautrockers, its incoherent synths, Diddley backbeat and found sounds were most appealing. I do wish there were more Klaus Dinger recordings. Because of Klaus and only because of Dingeer, I shall cheer the Germans tonight.

God Bless Klaus Dinger!

Added'

England did the job (2006)

The World Cup began two days ago after an opening ceremony that this disliker of all things pomp and glitter-like could actually tolerate. Seeing World Cup winners from the not too far and distant past participating in the parade made it earthy and less showbiz-like. English champions of 1966. Your presence knocked any showbiz glitz into touch.  But better was Traditional German Dancing. 

Germany began well, even without the maestro Ballack unlike the Poles, who were shocked by the Ecuadorians. Not entirely unexpected because Ecuador defeated Brazil a few years back. And they possess the imagination and verve seemingly found with ease in South American teams.

England? Despite hyperbole in the English press about England's chances of winning the trophy, I was uneasy before seeing them play Paraguay. Paraguay had taken the scalp of Argentina in the qualifying round. But Beckham et al actually won, though the performance seemed sluggish and uninspired. Owen went off injured, and Crouch was repeatedly (and unfairly) penalised by the Mexican referee. Supposedly John Motson attacked this ref, but I'm unsure, listeniong to Japanese commentary as I did. They, too, appeared to sympathise with Crouch. And we won. 

Winning the first match is, of course, the main priority. Sweden drew against Trinidadians, so we merely need to overcome Yorke, Shaka Hislop and all to go through to the next round - where we will probably face Germany. Let us hope that Wayne Rooney recovery is as reported. 

Even a half-fit Wayne would strengthen the side. 

Before closing, I must add that I can't help but feel sympathy for the Paraguayans. Their keeper, Getty, played admirably. His injury, after conceding an own goal, made England's victory less than convincing. The game was a gift. 

World Cup began two days ago after an opening ceremony that this disliker of all things pomp and glitter-like could actually tolerate. Seeing World Cup winners from the not too far and distant past, participating in the parade, made it earthy and less showbiz-like. English champions of 1966. Your presence knocked any showbiz glitz into touch. 

But better was Traditional German Dancing. Their began well, even without the maestro, Ballack, unlike the Poles, who were hocked by the Ecuadorians. Not entirely unexpected as Ecuador defeated Brazil a few years back. And Ecuador possessed the imagination and verve seemingly found with ease in South America.

And what about England? Despite hyperbole in the English press about England's chances of winning the trophy, I was uneasy before seeing them play Paraguay. Paraguay had taken the scalp of Argentina in the qualifying round. But Beckham et al actually won, though the performance seemed sluggish and uninspired. Owen went off injured, and Crouch was repeatedly (and unfairly) penalised by the Mexican referee. Supposedly John Motson attacked this ref, but I'm unsure, listening to Japanese commentary as I did. They too appeared to sympathise with Crouch. And we won. 

Winning the first match is, of course, the main priority. Sweden drew against Trinidadians, so we merely need to overcome Yorke, Shaka Hislop and all to go through to the next round - where we will probably face Germany. Let us hope that Wayne Rooney recovery is as reported. 

Even a half-fit Wayne would strengthen the side. 

Before closing, I must add that I can't help but feel sympathy for the Paraguayans. Their keeper, Getty, played admirably. His injury, after conceding an own goal, made England's victory less than convincing. The game was gifted to us. 

. 

Of Chavs and English men 11 06 2006

In the mid-90s Mark E. Smith said of the English football team: "Lions led by donkeys."  A decade  on, it would have been better to say: "Rich chavs led by a literate foreigner." 

Will donkeys return when McClaren takes over (it should have been O'Neill in my book)?  Steve may disagree, but one suspects that McClaren has one foot in the chav camp.  He will be leading the rich chavs now. 

But what is a CHAV? Why are they associated with the English team? 

Having come from a chavvish culture and owning Burberry spectacles, I am in a position to comment. In my youth, I lived with the equivalent of chavs on a council estate in the UK. Though shedding visual traces of its influence, the Chavs remain my brethren.

Laughingly, and more than a little mockingly, an acquaintance of Portuguese descent, over a pint of Guinness, called me a late blooming DHL the other night. Hilarious. DHL being from the same social group

Chavs. My cousins. Watching football, in the heat of an England match, I metamorphose into one.  Were it not for the presence of my angel, I may have reverted - and worn a baseball cap at a ridiculous angle, and spent cash on tasteless fake designer clothes. 

You never leave the tribe. You always question the notion of fair play. You were brought up in a thieving culture. Patience has never been a virtue there. But from afar, supporting England made me realize - the nonsense of St George flag waving nonsense - the idiocy of chav talk in the pubs

The Paraguayan fans seemed far more approachable. More fun-loving. More loveable. Can I say this and be allowed back? Will I be hurled off to Traitors Gate, executed n a St. George's flag? Me, who chose to move out. Me, who chose a dusky wife and dropped his chav past.

Still, come Thursday, I'll be chavving it up in spirit in front of the telly. 

 For 90 minutes, that's all.

Super-early obsessions (2006)

One of the better things about the aging process and the decision to have a child is the opportunity to review movies from one's youth. 30 somethings, who have made the choice, can re-discover a whole host of films for the benefit of their offspring. 

And after going to Shinjuku's Disk Union, with an eye on finding copies of Bagpuss, I ended up purchasing a Superman box. Attractively priced and worth it for the 1st and 2nd movies alone, it's been two decades since I saw them. Still, it appeared odd to discover how little detail I remembered of them.

The scenes which I did remember were etched deep into my memory. They included Superman flying to Lois Lane's balcony, where a stunned Lois is taken aback by his gesture; and the fight scene in the hamburger bar where Clark Kent attains revenge upon the piece of 'garbage' who had beaten him up after just shedding his super powers in return for the love of the woman of his choice.

However, for me, the acting by British-born American-based actress Sarah Douglas (pictured left) stood out back then and continues to do so now. She played the icy cold villain Ursa, who established a distinct impression upon my infant self. Sarah Douglas was compelling and attracted and scared me in equal measure. 

I link her performance to a later, pre-teen, Siouxsie Sioux obsession. Both women share a similar poise in front of the screen, and both forego any overt showing of emotion. 

I tried to put a clip of Siouxsie miming the Banshees's early 1980s 'Spellbound' on German TV below, but it seems that Blogger will not allow me to do so. Anyway, it is linked here and though it's hardly their best performance, it's worth viewing for Siouxsie in her Goth leather get-up look.