hello dear friends,
twenty twelve was a year of tumult and of small triumphs. and so let us reflect.
WULF! WULF!
the year began with manc pups wu lyf on letterman. but it was not enough. the year ended with their demise. their parameters of success had shifted beyond all scope. what hope did any of us have?
FURTHER DEMISE
in the shitty summer long time monsters wes and lewis fled south and east for reasons academic and pastoral. but in twenty twelve part one there was doublefun to be had. the shipley bowling alley big lebowski party. lauren paradox’s birthday at islington mill. finally playing SFTOC. fuel for scenewipers. farewell sweetheart and cutie pie, you did right good.
TWO WITNESSES ARRIVE
but brendan and aiden lunged from the shadows meaning a camden gig cancellation was avoided and the band saved,. they brought with them elasticity and nimbleness and gouged their fingers deep into the grout of the retaining wall. embrace them both closely to your bosoms.
A VIRAL MARKETING CASE STUDY
a series of videos served as a creativity/ego binge but also as a controlled experiment.
with the grizzled god of the ad hoc and chaos ruling the musical universe, and the neverending churn of tunes, how could anyone hope to sustain the gaze of those at the top of the pyramid of influence? by serving up your own constant churn. that’s how.
it didn’t really work.
TRW has had 95 downloads of the retaining wall and 3 proper reviews (thanks bibby/osborne/foster). there were a few pieces on the videos but these seemed to diminish in number with each release despite each song objectively being better than the last.
in conclusion, this approach will probably not be used again.
MOVING FORWARDS/ONWARDS/UPWARDS
we have now cleared out our musical loft
we’ve anointed a fourth man to our clan.
we’ve probably plateaued in terms of interest/fanbase
our singer has left his job of the last five years
you can taste a change in the water and also in the soil,
twenty thirteen will be an interesting year - for us if not for you.
highlights:
BALLAST III
writing and recording this:
http://monsterisland.bandcamp.com/album/the-retaining-wall
the palladium gig
making the vids
sounds from the other city
lowlights:
continued shunning from scene thug Marc “Lard” Riley
not winning any medals or money
almost playing at the incubate festival in holland but then being vetoed by JR*
look after yourself everyone.
some might have you believe that we don’t love each and every one of you.
listen to our music http://monsterisland.bandcamp.com
and read our words - http://islandmonster.blogspot.com
then ask yourself who are the real cynics.
love & light & rock n Lolz.
monster island. XXX
Tuesday, 1 January 2013
Saturday, 22 December 2012
shaking hands
i walked into the traffic blind so that i could get to work on time for once.
with coffee rings around my eyes, I stumbled in at sixty seconds past nine.
and they said,
"stephen, don't make any plans for the evening".
they said, "stephen, don't make any plans for the evening.."
staring at my shaking hands, i made a further series of insane demands of myself.
now i must find a route from work that avoids any mirrors or reflective surfaces.
in a bit that was typically cryptic, slickly inefficient, and glistening with eccentricity,
i left my glasses at home that day, combed my hair, and binned all my sexy underwear,
for if i was to dress more sensible, i just might start to comprehend the incomprehensible.
with coffee rings around my eyes, I stumbled in at sixty seconds past nine.
and they said,
"stephen, don't make any plans for the evening".
they said, "stephen, don't make any plans for the evening.."
staring at my shaking hands, i made a further series of insane demands of myself.
now i must find a route from work that avoids any mirrors or reflective surfaces.
in a bit that was typically cryptic, slickly inefficient, and glistening with eccentricity,
i left my glasses at home that day, combed my hair, and binned all my sexy underwear,
for if i was to dress more sensible, i just might start to comprehend the incomprehensible.
ether wip+
ten cups in and i started to shift, my blue eyes bulged and blinked at a thousand bpm.
as i fingered the scales on my skin, i twisted like stifled and stymied victorian women.
now i dine with dave on dead flies and crickets.
harvesting souls is, i suppose, an honest living.
they saw me assemble from the ether and said i could double my luck,
if only i was to man up and murder my identical twin brother.
the treadmills kept me too tired to mither you,
so you best suggest which ghetto that i ought to go to.
so you best suggest which ghetto that i ought to go to.
what will you do for our wounded heroes?
what will you do for our wounded heroes?
the counties were cut into bite size chunks for ease of top down management.
what will you do for our wounded heroes?
what will you do for our wounded heroes?
zoom, zoom, zoom
clifford frigs himself as pigeons slide into listed buildings,
as he fingers the life support machine of a chav queen,
chav christ, ritual sacrifice. rosy-cheeked and dewy eyed,
weeping about the witch at the bottom of her drive.
on a checkerboard in reverse order i read out loud
the sources of my boredom - morons on forums have
simultaneously decided there is no more art or fashion,
only records that whisper "HOO-ray for satan" if you
spin em arse backwards.
like perry, like gaga, like callahan, like pink.
a fresh assignment lands on his desk as he exposes himself as a poet in progress
as he parts his lips and expresses regret at having never seen the whites of their eyes
only broken bodies after the fact. it's like seeing war rage through a phone camera lens,
blitzkrieg in ten million pixels - "oh the humanity" on the digital zoom.
zoom, zoom, zoom,
zoom, zoom, zoom.
as he fingers the life support machine of a chav queen,
chav christ, ritual sacrifice. rosy-cheeked and dewy eyed,
weeping about the witch at the bottom of her drive.
on a checkerboard in reverse order i read out loud
the sources of my boredom - morons on forums have
simultaneously decided there is no more art or fashion,
only records that whisper "HOO-ray for satan" if you
spin em arse backwards.
like perry, like gaga, like callahan, like pink.
a fresh assignment lands on his desk as he exposes himself as a poet in progress
as he parts his lips and expresses regret at having never seen the whites of their eyes
only broken bodies after the fact. it's like seeing war rage through a phone camera lens,
blitzkrieg in ten million pixels - "oh the humanity" on the digital zoom.
zoom, zoom, zoom,
zoom, zoom, zoom.
Friday, 16 November 2012
banned from the library
he wants a job where he doesn't even have to think
about joe and mary public. but everything's ringed-fenced,
previous experience, re-deployees only.
"it's like I'm trapped in the ...."
I've been stitched up by four works of fiction; matt, mark luke and...the other one.
and for a series of innocent blunders i find myself barred from MCR's central rotunda.
shrieks and howls in the bowels of the listed buildings,
they have just twigged i cannot borrow but I can still go in and read for free.
imperial novel guardsman trains his hardened gaze upon me,
with a look that's bought and paid for - in a town of draft dodgers and collaborators.
he's a peculiar sort, cut precisely to primark sizes.
in every new edition that arrives he scribbles out all the words he doesn't like,
scribbles out the ISBM so that no-one could ever order those books again.
who wants a job?
about joe and mary public. but everything's ringed-fenced,
previous experience, re-deployees only.
"it's like I'm trapped in the ...."
I've been stitched up by four works of fiction; matt, mark luke and...the other one.
and for a series of innocent blunders i find myself barred from MCR's central rotunda.
shrieks and howls in the bowels of the listed buildings,
they have just twigged i cannot borrow but I can still go in and read for free.
imperial novel guardsman trains his hardened gaze upon me,
with a look that's bought and paid for - in a town of draft dodgers and collaborators.
he's a peculiar sort, cut precisely to primark sizes.
in every new edition that arrives he scribbles out all the words he doesn't like,
scribbles out the ISBM so that no-one could ever order those books again.
who wants a job?
Saturday, 1 September 2012
citizen spy
doing his bit to spice up suburban life.
he likes to think of himself as the provincial eye.
a martyr might cost you up to half a million
but a shill will still only set you back a shilling or two.
a broad sweep,
operation snoop-while-you-sleep,
a town of amateur sleuths,
i think i heard my letterbox snapping to.
villager volunteer swat division all rounding us up with grim precision.
train guard pulls magnum from hidden holster
and trains it at the temple of amateur photographer.
speaking for a certain kind of saviour
about certain kinds of uncertain behaviour - citizen spy.
he doesn't care if their cameras give him cancer.
he likes to think of himself as the provincial eye.
a martyr might cost you up to half a million
but a shill will still only set you back a shilling or two.
a broad sweep,
operation snoop-while-you-sleep,
a town of amateur sleuths,
i think i heard my letterbox snapping to.
villager volunteer swat division all rounding us up with grim precision.
train guard pulls magnum from hidden holster
and trains it at the temple of amateur photographer.
speaking for a certain kind of saviour
about certain kinds of uncertain behaviour - citizen spy.
he doesn't care if their cameras give him cancer.
Saturday, 2 June 2012
bass creeps
bass creeps
through every window and every door
leaks through your ceiling to my laminate floors
and the malaysian jelutong knows every note and word of your tremendous song collection.
rattle the ice
thats on the inside of my windows
set your watch by the sirens, hooligans who are always right on cue.
hunt for clues
in the choreography of the city below
in the tattoos of those in the know
seek revelations in their blots of inky constellations.
don't turn the other cheek
turn that set of speakers back around
and turn your neighbour into soggy ground.
and they will know that this is not a bluff when i reveal my six foot golden sub-woofer.
bass creeps.
through every window and every door
leaks through your ceiling to my laminate floors
and the malaysian jelutong knows every note and word of your tremendous song collection.
rattle the ice
thats on the inside of my windows
set your watch by the sirens, hooligans who are always right on cue.
hunt for clues
in the choreography of the city below
in the tattoos of those in the know
seek revelations in their blots of inky constellations.
don't turn the other cheek
turn that set of speakers back around
and turn your neighbour into soggy ground.
and they will know that this is not a bluff when i reveal my six foot golden sub-woofer.
bass creeps.
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