Oh Dear, Oh Dear, Oh Dear

I have used this blog, on a number of occasions, to tell the universe that I particularly like a new record or book by someone. This is the first time that I have ever used this blog, which is essentially meant as a way to talk about cryptozoology and my other activities animalwise, to tell the world quite how appalled I am.

Yes, I admit it. There are some albums by Queen in my voluminous music collection. I am particularly fond of the first four albums, but some of the later ones also have their moments. I also have several albums by Free although I always thought Bad Company were pants.

Can you see where this is going?

When it was announced that Free singer Paul Rogers (OK I didn't like anything else he did post-Free) had teamed up with Messrs Meddows-Taylor and May I was mildly intrigued. Paul Rogers at his best was an incredibly soulful rock singer, and had one of the bext voices in late 60s/early 70s music. So I downloaded some live stuff they did.

It was terrible.

I should, I suppose, have been prepared for this by the fact that ex-bassist John Deacon, who was by far the most self-effacing member of the band, had refused to have anything to do with the project.

It turned out that a dear friend of mine (who shall remain nameless cos I won't out him) went to see them live. They were, apparently, dreadful.

So I played some tracks to Richard Freeman.

"What is this shit?" he said

But still, fond as I am of Wishing Well and My Brother Jake, I insisted to all my friends that once the album - with new material that had not been penned for Fred to sing came out, the band would be vindicated. I was sure it would all be alright in the end.

Well it ain't.

This is the nastiest, most cynical, vile piece of capitalist shit that I have ever heard. It is almost pornographic in its insincerity. It sounds great - but then again it would. The lyrics are banal and childish, and the whole thing is executed about as well as a saturday night pub band. There can be no reason for this album to have been made apart from to make three rich men richer.

Ugh

September song

I inherited a lot from my mother. I inheites my love for books, my desire to write books, my love of the natural world, and even a modicum of her explorer's instinct. But I also inherited the bad things: I am a trifle corpulent - no, don't deny it... I have a fondness for the grape and the grain, and I have a tendency to succumb to every head cold going. In this concern I am not as bad as my mum, who would have a cold continually from October to April, but mine are bad enough and I have one or two a year. One of the weirder things is, that although a couple of years ago my colds would last for a couple of weeks, now they only last for two or three days, but while they do they are horrible.

So I have been in bed, being a trial to my nearest and dearest, and feeling appaling (and probably acting and looking worse). But now I am able to sit up and do stuff, even though I am still as weak as a kitten.

Redders wrote: His missus is still unwell, but seems to be a little better - more news when I have it. No more news on Doc, and the administrative problems to which I alluded seem to be retreating somewhat........

Still, September ain't much fun so far....