Robin Ince’s Book Club comedy night features himself (and sometimes Chris Neill) reading out aloud from choice bad books. If ever I were asked to do the same myself, I’d pick the impressive Simon Goddard research-fest that’s frustratingly spattered with bad prose: “The Smiths: Songs That Saved Your Life”.

I actually referred to this failing of his in my diary before, when the first edition came out. There was a particularly silly description of Morrissey’s vocal on ‘Hand In Glove’ thus:

“”…[Morrissey’s] inimitable voice trembling upon each syllable with the force of a dormant human volcano suddenly erupting in a white-hot supernova of embryonic passion.”

This passage is strangely missing from the 2nd edition. I wonder if that was something to do with my diary? In which case, Mr Goddard, might I make a suggestion for the 3rd edition? Less drums in the mix, please.

He clearly feels the other three Smiths should be as celebrated as Morrissey. Now, this is fair enough with Mr Marr, but I’m not convinced that people rushed out to get all those wonderful records because they liked the way the drummer Mike Joyce played the drums. I would describe Mr Joyce’s talents as perfectly acceptable, but certainly not worth drawing attention to.

Not so with Mr Goddard. Throughout the book he feels the need to describe the drums. I find it embarrassing enough when music hacks refer to drum patterns at all (usually with winceworthy words like “pulsating”, “pummelling” and “pounding”) , so I suppose it’s quite a feat of thesaurus-dredging to be able to find enough different drum-compatible adjectives for the best part of eighty different Smiths songs.

So! I Present: The Dickon Edwards Guide To Simon Goddard’s “The Smiths: Drumbeats That Saved Your Life” (2nd Edition £14.99, reduced to £4.99 in HMV Oxford Circus.)

Hand In Glove: “punctuated by Joyce’s cymbal stutters” (ie, he plays the cymbals)

This Night Has Opened My Eyes: “Joyce’s subtly complex drum pattern with its soft pauses and delicate hi-hat fills” (ie, he plays the drums)

Still Ill: “Joyce underscores the buoyant optimism of the chorus itself with triumphant cymbal splashes” (getting desperate on this one…)

You’ve Got Everything Now: “Joyce’s clamant tom-tom fills” (Mr G raids Roget already, and it’s only 1984… three more albums to go!)

How Soon Is Now: “Joyce’s steady Diddley pulse” (steady, Diddley, steady…)

What She Said: “Joyce’s thunderous backbeat” (ie, he plays the drums)

I Know It’s Over: “…the raw fury of Joyce’s drum rolls”(Raw Fury! Starring Chuck Norris as Mike Joyce!)

The Queen Is Dead: “Joyce’s idiomatic drumming upon the palace gates” (not really: that would sound rubbish)

Frankly Mr Shankly: “Joyce’s Salvation Army stomp”(nope, that doesn’t really make sense, never mind)

Vicar In A Tutu: “Joyce’s breathless brush work”(hey, he’s Picasso now!)

Panic: “Joyce’s meaty, beaty brontosaurus stomp” (and now he’s Barney)

You Just Haven’t Earned It Yet Baby: “Joyce’s stomping, staccato beat” (he plays the drums)

Sweet and Tender Hooligan: “fuming drums… quaking like a bovver-boy stampede” (or, if you like, the drummer plays the drums like a drummer)

Sheila Take A Bow: “goaded by Joyce’s quaking floor-tom rumbles” (ooh, goad me, you floor-tom you!)

Death Of A Disco Dancer: “Joyce flays his kit in a cold voodoo sweat” (writer is getting sex-starved now, funny that)

I Started Something I Couldn’t Finish: Producer Stephen Street – shock horror – adds an electronic snare sample. How dare he, implies Mr Goddard, and quizzes Mr Street: “It wasn’t that I wanted to replace Mike Joyce… I just wanted to add more sounds so that his drumming had more texture.”

After all that stomping and flaying and quaking and clamant stuttering, and the producer wants more texture? Doesn’t he agree with Mr Goddard that Mr Joyce is the greatest drummer in the world, nay the greatest thing about The Smiths?

Stop Me If You Think You’ve Heard This One Before: “Joyce excels with a cannibalistic tom-tom assault” (cannibalistic tom-toms! run!)

A Rush And A Push: “buoyed by Joyce’s militaristic snare rolls, a more prominent feature on early mixes than on the final master” (or, how to make an exciting track sound boring)

Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me: “Joyce’s beat was that of an exhausted heart shattering into a thousand tiny fragments, each eight-bar cycle ending with a sudden rhythmic cardiac arrest that altered shape every time.” (Nurse!)

I Won’t Share You: “heavenly minimalism… even at the expense of Joyce’s presence”. (Oh, what a waste…!)

Dancing about architecture is hard enough, but when you become obsessed with pointing out the architecture happens to have walls…

Call me strange, but I really like The Smiths mainly because of that other man in the band. Who was he again?

A rather ace little pop biog to recommend: ‘Mr Cool’s Dream: The Complete History Of The Style Council’ by Iain Munn. (Wholepoint Publications, 2006).

Mr Munn is a shameless trainspotter-style fan, and the book is his own scrapbook-style history of Paul Weller’s eccentric (and very arch) soul-tinged pop group, which existed from The Jam’s break up in 1982 to the start of his solo career circa 1990. It originally emerged as a ring-bound limited edition pamphlet in the mid 90s, and has now been revised, rewritten and upgraded to a paperback version for 2006.

With the recent demise of Smash Hits, I can also recommend the Munn book to anyone who wants to read about the unique tone of 1980s UK pop media, given the vast array of chronologically-ordered clippings and quotes that comprise the bulk of the text. An unpretentious, instantly readable guide to an often deliciously pretentious (yet self-aware with it) pop group.

I’m always slightly annoyed when I see my old group Orlando described in passing, as it is in the recent Belle and Sebastian biography by a Mr Paul Whitelaw, as a Duran Duran-inspired band. Nothing against Mr Le Bon’s merry boat-bothering troupe, but if briefly describing Orlando must be done, I’d say we were more musically influenced by The Style Council and Dexys Midnight Runners, while lyrically tipping our hats to The Smiths, The Manic Street Preachers and Stephen Sondheim. There you go, cut and paste that, O Google-aided deadline whelks.

Fair enough that such writers haven’t the time to check for themselves. But in that case they really shouldn’t refer to what we sounded like at all. Better that than go with a lazy myth that rather says more about the hack than it does Orlando.

I mention this while thinking of Mr Munn’s book and pop books in general, because too many of them do the fan-pleasing stuff of collating third-party research with holding new interviews, but then make the mistake of attempting some sort of ‘literary’ feel, because the hack feels he has to Be a Writer.

In the case of the B & S book, the tome is full of italicised passages written in an attempt to emulate the precious style of the band’s own sleeve notes. When the band do this sort of thing themselves, it’s endearingly idiosyncratic. When a third party biographer does it, it’s somewhat less endearing, even annoying or embarrassing. On top of which, the book is also full of frustrating holes in the author’s research, along the euphemistic lines of ‘so-and-so’s response is not recorded’. Which often means either his emails or phone calls weren’t replied to, or the writer just didn’t bother to find out for himself. So Orlando sound like Duran Duran, that’ll do. If only he’d put as much effort into his research as he did into his italicised passages akin to ‘The Boy felt a bit gentle that day, and wondered if a passing fox would help him buy a new duffle coat…’

I actually emailed the B & S author about the Orlando reference some weeks ago, offering to send him a CD. He has yet to reply. His response is… not recorded. Serves me right for caring.

An example of a really thorough researcher is Mr Simon Goddard, whose recent book on The Smiths (“The Songs That Saved Your Life”), contains the result of his impressive investigations into every tiny aspect of each Smiths song’s adventure from creation to recording to performance, referring to lost out-takes and demos in a degree that must surprise even the people who made them. The problem comes when he tries to Be A Writer rather than just print the research in a readable manner (which is all the book’s target market really want). He feels the need to describe the music. Particularly what the drums sound like.

Rock book writers, heed my words. If you’re writing the story of one particular band, just concentrate on getting the research right, with the gossip, the quotes, the interviews, the anecdotes, and the trivia. That’s what we came for. Mr Munn’s Style Council book is a good, sugar-rush example of a fan simply making the book he and other fans (and those with an interest in the 80s pop scene) actually want to read.

Here’s another London club I can happily endorse. Fun and friendly, they even have a quiz once a month.

CLUB AIRPORT
every monday, 10 TIL 3
@ THE ROXY on 3-5 RATHBONE PLACE London W1
Tottenham Court Rd tube. 0207 636 1598
£1 before10:30 , then after 10:30 £3 with a Flyer or NUS, £5 w/o

“alicat, clare, and val (AKA 3 Bad sisters) + Adam playing their (un)usual mix of:cool indie, electropop, brit-pop, new wave, post punk, art rock, lo-fi, northern soul, alt-80’s and the odd disco toon….”

Plus POP QUIZ every 1st monday of the month before the club starts.
8 till 10pm. £1 to take part in the quiz (per person) and you’ll be able to stay for the club

This is my own little soiree.

CLUB DETAILS:
Next Date: Thur 18th MAY
Times: 9pm to 1am.
Club title: “The Beautiful and Damned”
Venue: The Boogaloo, 312 Archway Road, London N6 5AT. 020 8340 2928.
Tube: Highgate (Northern Line). Buses: 43, 134, 263.
“A new decadent disco curated by dysfunctional dandy DJ Dickon Edwards, with Miss Red. Patrons are encouraged to dress up in their own take on 1920s and 30s glamour, though anything more stylish than the ubiquitous Old Street fashions is welcome. Cigarillos, braces, tweeds, beads, silk scarves, unforgiving teddy bears… Drink, dance, and ponder the night’s tenderness to an eclectic but discerning mix of Sinatra, Strauss waltzes, soundtracks, musicals, El Records, deviant disco, shadowy soul, parvenu pop and insouciant indie. Free entry. Free cocktails for the best dressed of the night.

I’m standing for governmental election on May 4th. Oh yes! Well, if Adam Rickitt and Arnold Schwarzeneggar can do it, I don’t see why I can’t.

Specifically, The Green Party have asked me to be one of their candidates for local government this year: Haringey Council, Highgate Ward. I’ll be there on the ballot paper.

I promise to refrain from ever using the words ‘inappropriate’ or ‘error of judgement’ in official statements. That alone makes me pretty unique.

If nothing else, I want to generate a bit of publicity and visibility for the Green Party and for the local elections themselves, which tend to have a notoriously low turnout. Getting people to use their vote is something I do feel strongly about.

If you’re a UK citizen, please go to http://www.aboutmyvote.co.uk/, and enter your
postcode to see if there’s elections in your area this year. And if there are, please USE your vote on May 4th. If you’re not registered, get registered NOW. Download a registration form from the site, fill it in and send it off. No excuses.

The deadline for registering to vote in time for the May elections is March 13.

A date for your decadent diaries.

Dickon Edwards’s band Fosca play a London concert with Amelia Fletcher’s Tender Trap, without whom, etc.

Thursday April 13th
London, Brixton Windmill, 22 Blenheim Gardens, SW2 5BZ
£5, 8pm doors. Fosca onstage 9.30pm.
Playing with Tender Trap and Strange Idols.
Promoted by HDIF Presents.

Please come.

More details at:
http://www.howdoesitfeel.co.uk/hdiflive.html

http://www.fosca.com

The Boyfriends
Date: Monday 27th February 2006
At: Nambucca, 596 Holloway Road, London N7
Doors 8pm, onstage at 10.15pm
Entry £3

www.theboyfriends.com
www.myspace.com/myboyfriendsback

Martin Wallace’s darkly passionate homoerotic rock combo. Bit short notice with this one, I know. Forgive me.

How Does It Feel To Be Loved.
Every third Friday of the month. Now at Nambucca, 596 Holloway Road, London N7 6LB.
There’s also a South London version of the club, every 1st Friday in Brixton. See the club’s website for more.

This is Ian Watson’s excellent club for vintage indiepop / 60s soul / 60s pop, at which I”ve DJ-d myself a number of times. The website has a fairly busy forum and message board for likeminded types.

I’m particularly pleased the club has now moved to Nambucca on the Holloway Road. Nambucca is a little oasis of a venue trying to bring a bit of Camden-style arty music buzz to an otherwise featureless part of North London.

An announcement for band people in London.

A new bass player is sought for the exotic London-based project / supergroup that is SCARLET’S WELL. They’re about to release their fifth remarkable album, ‘Black Tulip Wings’ on Siesta Records. It’s already one of my favourite records of the year, even if I am one of the lyricists. Doubtlessly they’ll play a few concerts to promote it.

Scarlet’s Well songs are a unique brand of foppish folk-pop: witty, archaic and Romantic: at least in the Coleridge sense of the word. Musical comparisons might suggest The Divine Comedy, Kurt Weill, Tiger Lillies, Tindersticks, perhaps even the more vaudeville side of The Dresden Dolls. It’s all channelled by SW leader Bid, former frontman of legendary artpop group The Monochrome Set.

Contributing SW songwriters to date include Christina Rossetti, Edgar Allen Poe, Alfred Lord Tennyson, Alex from Franz Ferdinand, trendy accordion god Martin White and myself.

Please visit www.scarletswell.co.uk for more about the group. Email doctormole@scarletswell.co.uk if you think you can help find a bassist.

Oh, they have one of those MySpace pages too:

http://www.myspace.com/scarletswell

Thanks,

Dickon Edwards

P.S. I’ve decided to break my ‘no links’ rule for entries that more resemble blog postings, eg ‘Announcements‘ and ‘Recommendations‘.

What sometimes puts me off writing an entry in this diary is the worry I might not stop. But I think my readers would prefer more regular, concise musings than infrequent torrents of text. I should get into a routine – an hour or so a day.

The temptation is to write about one thing in particular – the diary as a sequence of articles. What I want to do now, though, is just write regularly, and hope readers won’t mind that much of it might be unedited and dull: the chaff with the wheat. Entries now would comprise ideas, notes to self, records of what I’ve done – pretty useful when my own memory is so unreliable. Some expiry-dated recommendations (I’m always being asked to recommend things to do, read or see), some announcements to the world.

Regular entries would also help to convince people I’m alive. Not least myself.