LIVING THE DREAM - ISSUE #3 - shacknet.co.uk THE DREAM - ISSUE #3.pdfHe‟s back...THE BAND DOCTOR has ... chime charming softly strummed chords ... Quite perfect if you ask me. C’MON

LIVING THE DREAM - ISSUE #3

Welcome to the third edition of

LIVING THE DREAM

your guide to what‟s happening down

here at The Half Moon, Herne Hill.

He‟s back...THE BAND DOCTOR has

returned from his holiday and is on fine

form. Plus, we‟ve got an amazing review

on SHACK, a feature on theafterrabbit

plus loads more.

So, grab a pint, pizza or even A SUNDAY

ROAST, have a read and then see you

down the front.

All upcoming gigs are listed in here and

on our website :

www.halfmoonpub.co.uk

If you want to play a gig at The Half

Moon contact our music booker John

Lynch by email :

[email protected]

Our Open Mic night runs EVERY

TUESDAY at 8.pm….get down here and

grab a drink, for an eclectic evening of

musical and spoken performances, from

some of South London‟s finest….we have

a large stage, a fat sound system, a

professional sound engineer, and a nice

chilled, responsive atmosphere.. Get

down early with your instruments /

words to sign up to perform, as it can get

quite busy….or, of course, just come

down, relax, and enjoy some great

music, from a random, lively, and

eclectic bunch of south London‟s musical

massive.. and possibly yourself ? Doors

8pm - midnight. Hosted by Mr. Hovis

Contact him by email here

[email protected]

www.myspace.com/needleandthread

dotorg

http://www.myspace.com/needleandthreaddotorg

http://www.myspace.com/needleandthreaddotorg

3in4 Production in association with Pilot

Light Theatre Presents: The Dark and Cavernous Walls 2010

New and improved for 2010

They're dark,

They're cavernous

AND

They're WALLS!

'If you bought the Matrix...then you'll

swallow this hook, line and sink

her...' Sunday 24th January 5pm

Monday 25th January 7.30pm

Wednesday 27th January 7.30pm

Thursday 28th January 7.30pm

Don't miss out...to book or find out more

email us at:

[email protected]

Sat 9th Jan

JUNIOR WELLS

ANNUAL MEMORIAL SHOW

£10 adv / £12 door Annual memorial gig, for the legendary

Chicago blues harp player Amos

Blackmore aka Junior Wells (Muddy

Waters/Buddy Guy/Magic Sam) the

legendary Chicago blues harp player

who sadly died 15/1/98. An all star band

will feature John O‟Leary, Alan Glenn,

Johnny Mars & Paul Lamb for a blast of

top notch Chicago Blues!

Zoom @ The Moon

For tickets and more info please visit

www.feenstra.co.uk

Sat 16th Jan CAPRICORNS BALL

The South London Capricorn massive

throws another Saturnalian bash - with

live music, eclectic DJs and visuals.

A welcome occasion to catch up with old

friends and sniff-out some new. All star-

signs welcome but those wearing horns,

beards and/or fish's tails will receive

preferential treatment. Obviously,

because we're more equal than the

others. Easy access smoking pit and a

heated pen for those wishing to eat their

own babies.

Doors 8pm

Entry FREE

mailto:[email protected]

The Dream Machine and

The Half Moon are proud to

present......SAXON SHORE

http://www.saxonshore.com

http://www.myspace.com/saxonshore

Label - Self Released

SAXON SHORE – new album, It Doesn't

Matter – OUT NOW

Since the release of Saxon Shore‟s last

album The Exquisite Death of Saxon

Shore (2005), members of the band have

once again moved to different cities

along the eastern seaboard. Previously

based in Philadelphia, Matthew Doty

(guitar, keyboards) resides near

Baltimore, MD. William Stichter (bass)

and Matthew Stone (guitar) still call

Philadelphia, PA home. Oliver Chapoy

(guitar, keyboards) and Stephen

Roessner (drums, percussion) live a short

distance of three blocks apart in

Brooklyn, NY. Due to the distance, the

development of their forthcoming album

It Doesn‟t Matter (Spring 2009) was a

slow and steady process requiring

frequent trips to Philadelphia by Chapoy

and Roessner.

At the time of recording The Exquisite

Death in June 2005, Doty was still

working with line-up changes with only

Roessner and Stone as full-time members

of the live group.

It was not until the band‟s spring 2006

Japan tour that the five-member roster

became the standard. The sound of this

five-member live performance is what

Saxon Shore wanted to capture with a

new album. The addition of keyboards

and electronics was kept to a minimum.

When rehearsals and demo sessions

started, the group had maintained a

consistent lineup for nearly 4 years.

While Doty continued to handle the

primary aspects of the writing, he

opened more space in the framework for

creative input. Oliver Chapoy, who

previously handled programming in the

band, shifted to guitar. William Stichter,

who joined the band in the midst of

recording The Exquisite Death, anchored

many of the melodies heard in tracks like

“Tweleven” and “This Place.”

Drummer, Stephen Roessner, utilized his

classical music training to perform

timpani, vibes and celeste for various

songs on the album. And Matthew Stone

further developed his signature guitar

tone with unique amplification

techniques and pedals.

The album also added two ideas Doty

had wanted to experiment with for years

vocals, courtesy of Caroline Lufkin on

“This Place,” and a string arrangement

by Roessner and Chapoy on “Small

Steps”.

Eventually, the band was ready to enter

the studio to record It Doesn‟t Matter,

working once again with producer Dave

Fridmann (MGMT, Clap Your Hands, The

Flaming Lips). In the months of May and

June 2008 the band tucked themselves

away with Fridmann in the Tarbox Road

Studios cabin, located in the backwoods

of Cassadaga, NY. Having released Be a

Bright Blue and Four Months of Darkness

on his own label imprint, Broken Factory,

Doty and the band decided to once again

release the album themselves in the U.S.

A string of fortunate licensing contracts

and a publishing deal with Primary Wave

(alongside artists such as Kurt Cobain

and Daniel Johnston) allowed the band to

pool their resources and finance the

record out of their own pockets.

The band‟s last U.S. tour was in the

summer of 2006, and their last

international trip was a headlining spot at

the Megaport Festival in Taiwan in

October 2006. With the release of It

Doesn‟t Matter the band will break

almost three years of silence with shows

slated for Japan, Taiwan, Hong Kong,

Europe and the U.S.

TOUR DATES

Jan 04 | Wiesbaden - GE | Schlachthof

Jan 05 | Karlsruhe - GE | Jubez

Jan 06 | Nürnberg - GE | Musikzentrale

Jan 07 | St.Gallen - CH | Grabenhalle

Jan 09 | Ravenna - IT | Bronson

Jan 13 | Brighton - UK | Freebutt

Jan 14 | London - UK | The Half Moon

Jan 15 | Bath - UK | Moles

Jan 16 | Leeds - UK | Brudenell Social

Jan 17 | London - UK | Bardens

Jan 18 | Amsterdam - NL | Paradiso

Jan 20 | Luxembourg - LUX | Kulturfabrik

Jan 21 | Leipzig - GE | Nato

Jan 22 | Berlin - GE | Schokoladen

Jan 23 | Duisburg - GE | Steinbruch

Band Members

Oliver Chapoy (Guitar, Keyboards,

Piano, Celeste)

Matthew Doty (Guitar, Keyboards, Piano,

Programming)

Stephen Roessner (Drums, Percussion,

Vibes, Celeste)

William Stichter (Bass)

Matthew Stone (Guitar, Keyboards)

ALEX MONK

Two years' worth of pent-up material

finds its way out of the world on these

simultaneously released dual debut

albums. Alex Monk is a London based

musician/producer who uses laptop

trickery and a concatenation of effects

pedals to balance swathes of gaseous

ambience against chiming, layered

guitars. Hardly a revolutionary approach,

you might think, but his music succeeds

in making a genuine emotional impact.

The high-built clouds of "Exchanging

Chairs" and the psychedelic stasis of

"What Thou Lovest Well" achieve a lofty

grandeur, while the electronically-

enhanced fingerpicking of "Neutrino"

and "Death Without Tears" opens up a

connection to the visionary beauty of

guitarist James Blackshaw. A frail vocal

rises like a broken reed through the

frozen mist of "Winter Meccanica"; it's a

glacial, incantatory conclusion. The CD's

are packaged in attractively

screenprinted 7" sleeves - but it might be

difficult to get hold of them as they're

being made available in a limited edition

of just 60 copies each. Chris Sharp, The

Wire, December issue 2008. A review for

the CD-R debut from losing today: Alex

Monk 'Exchanging Chairs' (Self

released). This colossal 6 track 41 minute

set from London based musician Alex

Monk should by rights appeal to fans of

not only Brian Eno, Pimmon, Stockhausen

and EAR (especially on the mind melting

'Soyuz 1') but Moondog, Roy Montgomery

and other fringe psychedelicists

operating in outer realms of concrete

ambience. Some time member of Arch

slider (who we now feel restless to seek

out and sample) Monk crafts monolithic

drone scapes by way of sound

manipulations extricated via guitars,

laptop and found sounds. The set opens

with the 11.12 in duration 'exchanging

chairs', a humungous sloth like slab of

glacial ambience reminiscent of Sadar

Bazaar and Windy and Carl and yet

swept through with a maligned void less

elegance more associated with Yellow 6.

This impenetrable slice of bleakly

cathedral like stateliness is pierced

through by ominous swathes of regal

swells that exact an unsettling edge to

the proceedings yet strangely sound if

truth be known like a despondent half

cousin of Laurie Anderson's 'Oh

Superman'. 'Neutrino' with it's flurry of

chime charming softly strummed chords

could easily assume a place on

Montgomery and Heaphy's 'True' set

without a so much as a batting of the eye

lid though on this occasion sounding as

though both Roy Budd in collaboration

with Gnac had wrestled with the

recording giving it a curious rain swept

noire-ish appeal. The abstract sounding

'The Advocate on the other hand is

something that Ochre records would

have welcomed with arms wide a few

years back given their love of all things

inspired by the BBC Radiophonic

Workshop while the daintily frail lunar-

esque suite 'MG' brings the set to a lulling

close - think early career ISAN meets

Raymond Scott, a shyly beguiling slice of

chilled out spectral galactic pop or rather

more a binary coded lovelorn epitaph to

a fading memory. However all said and

done the sets crowning glory is the

heavenly apparition like 'Przykrosc'. A

beautifully realised symphonic score

that's filtered through with layer upon

layer of reverential swathes of unworldly

celestial grace, shimmers and twinkles

achingly with a sense of monastic

majesty brought to heel by the

appearance of Madam Butterfly like

operatics which all at once evoke polar

mood swings that veer between tearful

tragedy and euphoric ecstasy.

Quite perfect if you ask me.

C’MON KIDS

Fri 22nd Jan

It was only a matter of time......Fridays

have been too boring for far too long.

Now, that‟s all going to change.

On Friday 22nd January we‟re starting a

new club night called C‟mon Kids.

It‟s a night to let your hair down and

forget all your troubles.

We‟ll have dancing all night plus special

performances from bands near and far.

This month we have live music from

Manchesters‟ finest, The Scar.

They recently supported "The 80's

Matchbox B-Line Disaster" at The Dry Bar

and headlined the Twisted Wheel after

show party at The Night And Day Cafe.

Earlier this year they headlined "Death

Disco" Alan McGee's (Ex Creation

Records/Oasis Manager) club night in

Notting Hill, London.

Their music has been described as..

"A Filthy sound, like a cross between

early owen morris produced Oasis and

the Deftones" - Eddy Temple-Morris, The

Losers, XFM London (THE REMIX)

"Like It" - Alan Mcgee (Ex Creation

Records) - a man of few words ( on this

occasion ).

You can listen to their latest recordings at

www.myspace.com/scartheband

Sat 30th Jan

The Killing Moon runs on the last

Saturday of every month. £5 on the

door, £4 with flyer. 4 bands plus a DJ at

each night. The first night features :

THE CELLAR DOOR SOUND www.myspace.com/thecellardoorsound

+

KINGS LIGHT CAVALIERS www.myspace.com/kingslightcavaliers

+ more tba

Any bands wishing to play should e-mail:

[email protected]

Theafterrabbit Live! With Full Supporting Cast

Plus Badges, Books, T-shirts

Pants of Hank and Other Souvenirs

A concert to celebrate the launch of

Liver & Lights No 42

Theafterrabbit: Kathy‟s plums

c/w Sawbones at The Half Moon

Half Moon Lane Herne Hill

Saturday 23rd Jan 2010

8pm-12 pm Liver & Lights No 42 is a hand made

book and a 45 rpm vinyl single

containing two new „rabbit recordings. It

comes in a fantastic card fold

silkscreened cover and contains the

lyrics from the songs and new drawings

of the band. It also contains the usual

quotient of Liver & Lights hand made

reprographics - a true collectors item in a

very limited edition of 200. Available only on the night for £10.00 (along with

limited edition t-shirts and badge sets!)

P.S. Vinyl: You will need to go and buy a

record player to listen to these tracks.

Instructions. Open Gramophone lid Place

plastic disk on turntable set device to

45rpm place stylus arm on disk settle

back in chair repeat for side two

Contact :

John Bently: 02075019566

[email protected]

www.liverandlights.co.uk

www.myspace.com/afterrabbit

Theafterrabbit are an occasional but

passionate collaboration of musicians

who come together but a few times a

year at the bequest of word conjurer John Bently, proprietor of the world

famous Liver & Lights Scriptorium

underground publishing house. The

band‟s rare live performances,

developed from Bently‟s cult books are

as diverse as they are memorable,

containing strange costumes and even

stranger props.

Currently Theafterrabbit are:

mailto:[email protected]

http://www.liverandlights.co.uk/

http://www.myspace.com/afterrabbit

Alan Nook Outram, Synthesisers,

Bootfair instruments, toys. Alan records

for The Great Pop Supplement record label under the name Woodcraft Folk,

firm festival favourites (Big Chill, Green

Man), well known for their mystical

analogue electronica. Alan is a regular

contributor to the records of others,

including Dollboy and Spongefinger. He

has also recently been recording

soundtracks for channel 4 horror films…

Phil Cranny Outram. Drums. A

metronomic presence, a former member of gloomtastic nineties anti-heroes A

Perfect Disaster (a band that also

contained Josephine Wiggs, later of The

Breeders)

Phil currently plays with brother Alan in Woodcraft Folk.

Sir Ollington Briggs. Guitar, keyboards

An intense, brooding original singer

songwriter, formerly with cult indie heroes Ivich Lives, Ollie is aka Ivan

Ink and Pen. His raw melodic style and

considerable stage presence are currently employed in ex Unkle man Richard File‟s We Fell to Earth, whose

debut album has just been released.

Johnny B. Voice. Thirty years

experience as a performer of

impassioned verbal dexterity and with

over fifty books published: a one man

cottage industry. Expect the unexpected:

Tales of the olden days and tales of today

delivered by means of a multitude of

costume changes and some cunningly

amateur props.

SING FOR YOUR SUPPER – This editons’ guest chef is.........

Okkervil River (Will Sheff )

Okkervil River has been putting out

albums, touring endlessly, and growing

steadily in popularity since 1998. Will is a

master songwriter and lyricist with a

penchant for the melancholy. Jonathan

divides his time between Okkervil River

and his other band, Shearwater. Their

recent release, The Stage Names is one

of the most critically acclaimed albums of

2007. When not touring, Okkervil River is

based in Austin, TX.

Recipe #1

Chocolate Caramel Tart with Sea Salt

Will Sheff: “I reverse-engineered (read:

basically stole) this recipe from a great

place in Brooklyn called Marlow and

Sons. Their version of it is one of my

favorite desserts ever and I spent a few

botched tries sometime last winter trying

to figure out how the whole thing

worked. I still don‟t know precisely how

they do theirs, but after many attempts

and failures and discouragement and

redoubled efforts this is what I came up

with, which tastes pretty similar to me

and which I like just as much.”

“If you‟ve never made caramel before

that‟s the tricky part because while

you‟re cooking it can be hard to tell what

consistency (and toughness) this molten

sugar-water is going to thicken into once

cooled. It took a couple tries for me to

develop the requisite zen-like calm

needed to assess when to remove the

caramel from the heat, but gradually I

discovered that for me five minutes after

you add the cream and the butter etc

seems about right. The finished tart is a

great mixture of crunchy cookie crust

and ludicrously rich chocolate-and-

caramel, and the sea salt is like a

surprising exclamation point at the end of

everything.”

Ingredients

Chocolate cookie crust

* 2 cups crushed chocolate cookies (I

often use chocolate Teddy Grahams

because you kind find them lots of

places, but basically any not-overly

sweet simple chocolate cookie is gonna

work)

* 3/4 cup melted butter

Caramel filling

* 1 1/2 cup sugar

* 2/3 cup water

* 2/3 cup whipping cream

* 10 tablespoons unsalted butter

* 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

* Pinch of salt

Chocolate filling

* 3/4 cup whipping cream

* 6 ounces bittersweet (not

unsweetened) or semisweet chocolate,

finely chopped

Instructions

Cookie crust

1. Preheat oven to 375°F.

2. Combine the cookie crumbs and

butter in a medium bowl and mix well.

Press the crumb and butter mixture

firmly and evenly into the bottom and up

the sides of a 9-inch pie or tart pan. Bake

for 8 minutes. Set aside and cool before

filling.

Caramel filling

1. Stir the sugar and 1/3 cup water in a

heavy medium saucepan over low heat

until the sugar dissolves.

2. Increase the heat and boil until the

syrup is an amber color – swirling the

pan occasionally and brushing down the

sides with a wet pastry brush – about 8

minutes. Remove from heat.

3. Add the cream, butter, vanilla and salt

(the mixture will bubble up).

4. Return the pan to very low heat; stir

until the caramel is smooth and the color

deepens, about 5 minutes. Refrigerate

the caramel uncovered until cold but not

firm – about 20 minutes – before pouring

into the crust to fill it a little more than

halfway.

(This recipe may make slightly more

caramel than is called for, depending on

the size of your pie pan. If you want, once

it cools slightly you can pour any excess

on wax paper to cut into caramels.)

Chocolate filling

1. Bring the cream to boil in a heavy

small saucepan. Add the chocolate and

whisk together until smooth.

2. Fill the rest of the pie or tart crust with

the chocolate filling. In the end, you want

slightly more caramel than chocolate in

the tart.

Refrigerate until firm, about 45 minutes.

Just before you serve the tart, sprinkle

the top of it with a dusting of sea salt to

taste. Not sure how to measure this – a

little bit more than you might think and a

little bit less than what seems gross?

Make sure you use a coarsely-ground sea

salt (but not too thick and crunchy).

Added bonus for different sizes of flakes,

which looks nice and makes the flavor

more complex. I use Halen Môn, which is

a wonderful sea salt from Wales (I

suspect that the name just means “sea

salt” in Welsh?), sliced into very thin,

wide flakes.

All content copyright © Jennifer Robbins

and Jenville Productions

FOOD

At The Half Moon we serve Traditional

stone baked thin crust Italian pizzas,

salads, antipasto and ciabatta

sandwiches. We also have daily specials

on our blackboard. We make our own

pizza dough every day in our kitchen; we

do it the proper way!

Sunday Lunch

Roast Beef and Yorkshire pudding

Served with seasonal vegetables

Vegetarian option

Mushroom & Lentil Bake

£9.95

Served from 1pm until we run out

Pizza menu available afterwards

Monday meal deal

any two pizzas for £10 from 5pm.

Food served on the following times

Monday to Thursday : 5pm - 10pm

Friday : 4pm - 11pm

Saturday : 12pm - 11pm

Sunday : 1pm - 9pm

www.halfmoonpub.co.uk

Our manager has said we need a

gimmick. He suggested skinny ties and

pork pie hats, which we're not allowed to

take off, ever, as it would spoil the image.

I prefer waistcoats and rolled up jeans.

Maybe a combination of the two. What

would you suggest ?

Jason

This dilemma of making one's

act distinctive is one that has faced

artists right across the ages. Ludwig Van

Beethoven may have just been another

cocky piano player had he not gone

completely Mutton Geoff, while the

Beatles would almost certainly have

remained in Hamburg playing Chuck

Berry and skiffle numbers had Stuart

Sutcliffe's girlfriend not got her scissors

out; I know this to be a fact, for I have

seen Backbeat. Skinny ties and pork pie

hats are so 2005, though you never know,

2005 could be due for a revival soon. I

suggest something a little more futuristic,

after all, Lady Gaga didn't get to where

she is simply by looking like a tortoise

with a flannel on her head. The raunchier

the better I suggest. How about you go

for the ultimate cyborg look: Cylon from

Battlestar Galactica on the top half,

bollock naked human from the waist

down? If you were concerned about

offending anyone then you could maybe

spray your ball sacks silver, Jason. It's a

look I'm pretty sure hasn't been tried

before and one that will definitely get

you noticed. You'll be pleased to know I

only charge 20%.

Dear Band Doctor

I was on tour recently and met someone.

We had A LOT of fun together. However,

I haven't stopped itching since. Is there

something I can get from the chemists

that works instantly. My girlfriend is

coming over this weekend and I'm

dreading it.

Yours

Itchy & Scratchy

So you cheated on your

girlfriend and you expect me to

bail you out do you? Well I never.

At this point I should probably give you

some advice regarding contraceptives,

but they do tend to take away all the

sensitivity and make me personally go

flatter than Ian Brown with the flu. Of

course, the days of bands shagging their

way around the world with little or no

consequence have been over a long

time. Rockstars in the 70's were okay as

their audiences were mostly underage

and so hadn't had time to catch too many

serious venereal diseases. That sort of

thing is frowned upon these days and

quite right too. The 80's saw the advent of

AIDS and bands began to be more

responsible, though groupies could still

get fingered by roadies round the back

of the Radio One roadshow. But after the

New Acoustic Movement of the 90's,

bands became so beardy and

uninteresting that they never indulged in

sex with groupies again. The lecture

circuit is where you get your oats these

days apparently, so you're one of the

lucky ones. Well I say lucky, but you

actually revealed your name and address

in this letter and I've already been on

your facebook and tracked down your

girlfriend to tell her what you've been up

to. She was very grateful for my

intervention and she told me to tell you

you're dumped and that she's going out

with me on Tuesday to see Cannibal

Corpse. I shall definitely be carrying

some rubbers with me that night. What

do you mean 'what about the Hippocratic

oath'? I'm not a real doctor you fucking

dummy.

Dear Band Doctor

We have a problem. Our singer is really

good, but, how can I put this politely, a

bit of a minger. We know someone who's

not as good a singer, but, is fucking

gorgeous. I know it means we'll end up

using a vocal tuner a lot in the studio and

maybe even backing tracks live, but I

reckon it could work. Any thoughts?

Georgio Marauder

People like you make me sick.

You've presented me with a moral

question here that you yourselves know

the answer to, but you're too gutless to

examine your own feelings. You want an

easy way out don't you? You expect me to

give you the answer that will somehow

make you feel better. Well here it is.

You're asking me, should you opt for

purely cosmetic image over talent,

integrity and brilliance? Of course you

fucking should. It's obvious isn't it. Do

you want girls at your gigs or do you

want chaps in rucksacks mooching

around at the front of the stage after

you've played asking you what pedals

you used? However, having said all that,

when you say ugly, Georgio, are we

talking the aborted foetus of Margaret

Beckett and Thom Yorke, or are we

talking Mick Jagger ugly? Because it's

unlikely to have passed your attention

that Mick Jagger has done a lot of

shagging over the years. Nearly as much

as Bill Wyman, and he was even fucking

uglier. Sometimes falling out of the ugly

tree and hitting every branch on the way

down is the only pre-requisite needed to

start a rock 'n' roll band. Aerosmith, the

Ramones, the New York Dolls... need I go

on? It's a shame more bands these days

aren't a bit more fucking ugly. Instead we

get these sexless, lispy boys like Keane

and Coldplay and... er, Jedward?? I've

just realised, I'm very out of touch. i think

it's time for my injection...

Have you got a problem ?

Want to ask a question ?

Send your queries to :

[email protected]

‘Waterpistol’ – SHACK

By Elliot Sweeney

“Gone are the days when you walked

through the door…”

In the last few years there‟s been plenty

written about Shack. Liverpool‟s great-

lost band, hampered through misfortune

and tragic mishap. They‟re the stuff of

muso-pub banter legend. The unfulfilled

promise of the Head brothers has proven

irresistible to music journalists, seduced

by this Liverpool 4-piece possessing that

oh-so-rare mix of kitchen-sink grit and

heart-breaking vision. On the back of

this, they‟ve signed to Oasis‟ record

label, put out a „Best Of…‟, even had a

documentary made that you can see

online.

But back in 1996, before You Tube and

My Space and everything else we‟ve now

got on cyber-tap, I was sixteen and

soaked in sound, and Shack seemed

pretty much unheard of. I‟d occasionally

find a few long-toothed hacks and die-

harders from Liverpool who could

remember their 80s synth-heavy Ian

Brodie produced debut „Zilch‟, or the

earlier incarnation from the Head

brothers, The Pale Fountains. Music was

everything to me in those days,

dissecting records, always on the

lookout, prowling through second-hand

shops and record fairs for elusive 12-

inches. On Mondays, you‟d find me after

school in Our Price scanning through the

latest singles or bussing up to buy the

new 45 from Berwick Street. Wednesdays

were special – NME came out. Without

fail, I‟d be in the canteen at lunchtime

immersed. „Cool Britannia‟ was upon us –

New Labour, new sounds. Noel Gallagher

shaking hands with Tony Blair at number

10. Damian Hirst and Tracy Emin doing

their respective things. Style came before

substance, it suddenly became

fashionable to be from England, and to

have something to say, even if you

weren‟t 100% what it was you were

saying. There were reams of these new

bands, most shit, a few shockingly, and

even fewer decent. Playing live on TFI

Friday seemed to be the credentials that

made each of these groups, and looking

back, most didn‟t really get beyond that

footnote status.

But that was cool. They were great times.

I was learning to write and play myself,

learning to listen too. After the shoe-

gazing post-baggy hangover from the

early 90s, there seemed to be a freshness

and simplicity to what I was hearing. I

liked the vision of the bands like Cast or

Oasis, even if the actual songs lacked the

depth that demanded repeat listens.

“I‟m gonna fly, up in the sky, so very high,

yeah-yeah-yeah!”

I was starting to dig out the bands that the

bands I liked were in to. The Byrds, Love,

Happy Mondays, My Bloody Valentine,

The La‟s, The Roses. I knew there was

stuff out there waiting to be discovered,

like I was on a sonic adventure without

knowing what I was looking for.

One day in March, I‟d picked up a copy

of VOX Magazine, the NME-monthly.

Bjork on the front cover looking weird,

Trainspotting being touted as „Film of the

Year Already!‟ And in the album reviews

section, I came upon a review by John

Mulvey for „Waterpistol‟, Shack‟s second

recorded album. I reckon I‟ve read this

review over a hundred times. I read:

“It recreates the moment when frayed

acoustics go spiralling off into

psychedelia”

The history of the record is a pretty sad

tale, I‟d soon discover. The studio

containing the master tapes burnt down,

and producer Chris Allison disappeared

to the States with the only DAT copy. Four

years on, tiny German indie Marina came

in to save 'Waterpistol' from the dust it

was gathering and put it out, by which

point, the band had dissolved in a wave

of disillusion and addiction. Sounded

good in writing, but would it stand up?

So I toddled off to HMV on Oxford Street

that weekend and found a copy in the

upstairs section, not having much of a

clue what to expect. Putting on that CD

was like one of those rare moments

where I had no preconceptions. No one

had ever heard of Shack. It could have

been rubbish, a waste of thirteen quid

and a bus to town. But instead, what I got

when I played that album in my Mum‟s

kitchen that Saturday is an irreversible

moment. Like my first kiss, my first

getting dumped, my one and only heart

shattering from the girl I was meant to be

with. Things would never be quite the

same.

The sleeve is reminiscent of The Smiths‟

period nostalgia covers, a black and

white Bert Hardy-esque snap taken on a

bridge. We see a scruffy kid with shorts

and a satchel tugging cheekily on a fag

and grinning at the photographer,

blissfully unperturbed by a suited

bespectacled businessman strolling past,

with pomp and contempt all over his

face. It‟s a great image. A captured

moment, where rough meets smooth, not

needing any explanation. No pictures of

the band, instrument-clad and painfully

hip. Inside the sleeve, more clues were

found. Two guys, who I later learnt were

brothers Mick and John, singer and

guitarist respectively, and the driving

force behind Shack in all their various

guises. The photo of Mick really struck

me – I saw in his eyes something I had to

know, as if he‟d seen things I hadn‟t, as if

he‟d survived the poisonous heartbreak

that only the true English Rose tastes.

There he sits, cool-as-fuck, collar popped

and military crop, staring with faint

amusement at the camera, and straight at

me. “Eyes that know” I would go on to say

to those deserving folk I shared the

album with. Most thought I was being a

little weird, and should maybe lighten-

up. But fuck it, I thought. I had to know

what those eyes knew.

„Sgt. Major‟ is the opener, an effortless

statement of E‟d up ambition. This

could‟ve stood up to anything by the

Mondays or Roses for its

instantaneousness. A lazy drum intro

hooks us in before we‟re swirled and

seduced by the twangy 7th chord and

loose bass groove. It‟s poppy without

being twee, cocksure without being

arrogant. But it was the voice that stood

out for me the most:

“You could be the Sgt. Major, if you really

want to.”

I‟d been used to hearing nasal barbed-

wire vocals up until then, white boys

swerving the idea of soul out of fear of

loosing face, but in Mick Head, here was

a gruff Scouser who sounded like he‟d

had the arrogance beaten out of him,

with nothing to loose but tell the truth.

„Neighbours‟ follows, an edgier affair,

climbing walls with cabin fever, TV on

with the sound turned down, huddled

round bus stops and phone boxes in the

drizzle and cold. It gave a hint to the

band‟s darker and self-destructive side,

which went on to nearly get the better of

them. In the mid-section, Mick gives a

desperate cry, followed on by a Scouse

voice narrating low in the mix. The words

are muffled amongst John Head‟s icy

guitar teardrops, but at one point you can

make out the lines “There‟s only one way

out, like…” before it crashes into the

chorus again.

„Stranger‟ continues the melancholy, but

where as „Neighbours‟ hinted at urban

desperation, here we have a jazzy waltz,

reminiscent of „Moon Dance‟ by Van

Morrison, characterised with this other-

worldly Baroque feel. It bobs and sways

into different keys and rhythms, lush and

smoky psychedelia that carries a vague

and haunting quality, stripped down to its

bare essentials. It makes me think of

horse-drawn carts trundling across baron

mores and dales late into the night.

„Dragonfly‟ is a wake-up, this straight-

ahead piece of semi-acoustic pop-psych,

complete with surf guitar licks and

Mother Nature lyrics. But whereas as

piles of „Cosmic Scallies‟ past and

present have written vague 2-

dimensional tunes that are catchy

enough, but lacking the originality and

whit of „Paperback Writer‟ or „There She

Goes‟, with a song like „Dragonfly‟

there‟s the ingredients for it to shine on

first listen but still stand up time and

again.

„Mood of the Morning‟ continues, and

was like nothing I‟d heard before or

since, deceptively simple, yet at the

same time, so rich with colour, humour

and honesty. It was as if Mick Head had

discarded all the synths and pretence,

and was pulling from a different source,

to reach for this undeniable truth.

Perhaps more than any other song off the

LP, “Mood…” encapsulates his ability to

intuitively not his ego get in the way of

the song-writing. A 2-chord acoustic

strum, meshed with DIY bongos and

scrappy things, and then Mick singing

about a girl who loves The Mondays and

will dance to keep the evening going no

matter what. It‟s got this Summer-breeze

innocence that‟s irresistible, and his

voice still sounds mega to this day. Near

the end, the tone becomes tinged with

sadness and reflection, layered

harmonies hinting towards that sinking

you get when you realise the party‟s

finally over:

“When she‟s gone, it‟s like no one‟s

there, empty eyes, empty stares…”

When I first heard it, I knew. That might

sound silly, but that‟s how it was. Things

fell into place. John Mulvey‟s claim in the

VOX article, that this sounded like

“…some of the most outstanding, honest

music that‟s been made this decade…”

didn‟t sound bold at all. I was convinced.

Understand, I fancied myself as a

romantic back then. I took myself very

seriously. And lyrics and sounds like

this…well. They woke me up. So real.

Mick Head had appeared from nowhere,

a complete stranger from a place up in

the North, but he knew the unwritten

verses from my heart. And so it goes…

„Walter‟s Song‟ gives an affectionate nod

to „Night of the Hunter‟, the eerie Robert

Mitchum thriller about a knuckle-tattooed

child-stalker. There‟s loads of weird and

subtle references to music and cinema

throughout „Waterpistol‟ like this. But

whereas Shack‟s contemporaries tend to

make clunky attempts to re-hash

standard-fare influences, with the Head‟s

there‟s intelligence there, a sense of

admiration rather than imitation. Not to

mention a pretty wide knowledge for

some far-out stuff I‟d never heard of.

„Walter‟s…‟ is carried by a lullaby

melody, lifted from the dreamy interlude

in the film that I went on to discover on

the back on the song, and Mick‟s husky

voice has never sounded better. It‟s the

kind of brave and weird move that your

typical Brit-Pop dazzlers would‟ve

literally taken decades to come up with.

Mid-way through the LP, „Time Machine‟

would‟ve made the best single in my

opinion, a lazy waltz-time piece,

complete with twisting key signatures,

peaks and troughs, rising to an effects

drenched technicolour crescendo. A

warm nostalgia trip, thick with whiskey,

whim and good-humoured regret. „Mr

Appointment‟ tells the story of a round-

the-clock dealer on the run, with „Ticket

to Ride‟ stop-start drumbeat and a siren

guitar lick over Mick‟s acoustic bashes.

The song pushes forward towards the 6-

minute mark, complete with crashes-a-

plenty and “na, na, na‟s…”, never letting

up until the closing few seconds where it

collapses into a dead-heat, and Mick

cites his Beatles heritage with a police-

siren „Day In The Life‟ lifted-vocal: “D‟you

read the news today, oh boy…” before the

whole thing spirals down the plug-hole

some more.

„Undecided‟ is track 9, an achingly blue

semi-acoustic, sounding like it could

have been written anytime in the last few

hundred years. A simple, 4-chord repeat,

with Mick and John‟s harmonies never

letting up. It recreates the pain of being

pulled two ways and the things we resort

to when indecision gets too hard to bear:

“It‟s gotta be like sticking a needle in your

arm when your sleepin‟ and then you

could be somebody…”

„Hazy‟ arrives with a train-track „chukka-

chukka‟ groove that steams ahead into

Hansel & Gretel tale, with characters like

Michael and Siobhan who drink tea and

pass cheeky grins when no one‟s

looking. I liked to think it could‟ve been

lifted from some dusty folklore book that

Mick picked up on the Portobello Road. It

shuffles through verse and chorus, then

jars suddenly into a moment of fleeting

doubt, with Mick bowing his head and

almost whispering:

“What was that thing that you done? How

can you dream without loneliness?”

It‟s a disarming and daring shift. We hear

the sound of thunder and rain, and are

reminded that the light-headed rush of

Summer must always come to pass.

„Hey Mama‟ is the penultimate piece, a

little like „The End‟ by The Doors.

Middle-Eastern guitars and a 2-chord

guitar and drums heartbeat collage into a

wrenching call for maternal safety.

Mick‟s voice carries a desperation which

I‟ve not heard matched. Believe me, I‟ve

spent countless late-nights, smoking roll-

ups and listening to those haunting

words:

“I used to think that falling was a game…”

Gets me every time.

„Waterpistol‟ winds down with „London

Town‟, a bittersweet snippet of stripped

down acoustics, with the similar

Elizabethan sizing that seems to

characterise the LP. It‟s a story about

coming to the big city for the first time,

the highs, lows, humour and the run-ins

that follow. Buying indigestion pills that

look like E‟s, calling up pals in a flap,

then coming-to, and seeing tomorrow

begin to dawn, and everything begins to

get clearer again through the fog. It‟s a

lovely, romantic way to close the album,

tinged with a little sadness too. We‟re left

with a suspended chord, and the distant

sound of a car whoosh by, leaving a

sense of heady and calm contemplation

on what‟s to be done.

And then it‟s over. 12 songs. Just under

an hour‟s worth of music, that very nearly

never got heard. Thinking this through, I

guess what does it for me is the way

„Waterpistol‟ has this knack of sounding

utterly contemporary, whilst it still

drawing from the past. When I listen to it,

I‟m hearing sun-drenched West-Coast

psychedelia played on battered

acoustics in some Liverpudlian housing

estate kitchen. It‟s Ken Loach meets

Arthur Lee. But whereas so many of the

Brit bands before and after „Waterpistol‟

seemed to loose themselves somewhere

trying to duplicate a sound in their heads

that they thought people would like

because it‟s gone down well before, with

Mick Head, and „Waterpistol‟ above all

his others, it‟s the honesty of the songs

that makes it stand up to be heard. No

airs or graces. No Rolls Royces in the

swimming pool, TVs flying from the

Columbia Hotel windows or any of that

bollocks. These 12 songs cut through all

the trite, and just deliver.

I‟m thinking how this may all sound a bit

sentimental - but sod it. I‟ve grown up

with these songs. I‟ve fallen in love, fallen

on my knees, fallen into hard times and

picked myself back up again, always

with a soundtrack of „Waterpistol‟ never

far away. I played it the other day, start

to finish, and got this wave of familiarity,

too many memories to make sense of,

instead more like this tug of emotion, like

I‟d been reunited with my best friend.

Sounds good to me. I‟ve met a lot of

people who‟ve come and gone since.

Fair-weather friends. But with

„Waterpistol‟, it‟s a different affair. We‟ll

know each other forever. Deffo.

If you would like us to review your

record then send us your stuff to

the following address : -

LISTINGS – JAN

Fri 1st RECOVERY

Sat 2nd

Sun 3rd

Mon 4th

Tues 5th OPEN MIC

Weds 6th

Thurs 7th QUIZ NIGHT

Fri 8th

Sat 9th ZOOM @ THE MOON

Sun 10th SUNDAY LUNCH

Mon 11th

Tues 12th OPEN MIC

Weds 13th

Thurs 14th SAXON SHORE

Fri 15th

Sat 16th CAPRICORN BALL

Sun 17th SUNDAY LUNCH

Mon 18th

Tues 19th OPEN MIC

Weds 20th

Thurs 21st QUIZ NIGHT

Fri 22nd C’MON KIDS

Sat 23rd THEAFTERRABBIT

Sun 24th PILOT LIGHT THEATRE

Mon 25th PILOT LIGHT THEATRE

Tues 26th OPEN MIC

Weds 27th PILOT LIGHT THEATRE

Thurs 28th PILOT LIGHT THEATRE

Fri 29th

Sat 30th THE KILLING MOON

Sun 31st SUNDAY LUNCH

LIVING THE DREAM LIVING THE DREAM LIVING THE DREAM

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LIVING THE DREAM - ISSUE #3 - shacknet.co.uk THE DREAM - ISSUE #3.pdfHe‟s back...THE BAND DOCTOR has ... chime charming softly strummed chords ... Quite perfect if you ask me. C’MON