All this horseshit about my women, my father, my crummy beginnings.

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"My giddy aunt Juny, you bastards stick worse than dog shit! And as for him, yes you, you little shitter! I caught you bouncing on my sofa again, didn't I? Yes daddy! ... Yes daddy! You must think I was born yesterday! Well I want to hear it from your own lips, an apology, and don't bother lying to me ... I saw you, I caught you red-handed! Do you know how much that sofa cost? And it hasn't even been paid for yet, not a bit of it! Juny, come here Juny! I want you to hear this, look, this smelly child of yours was caught bouncing on the sofa! On my sofa! Look at it woman, look at it, brand new, wrecked! Scarcely a month old! A write-off, a total write-off! With his shoes on mind, bouncing with his shoes! Look at them, they're scuffed! Scuffed I tell you! He's been playing in his best shoes again! Haven't you? Look at them, ruined! You see this pair of mine, look at them, feast your eyes! Bought last week? A month ago? No, ten years old! That's right, ten years old, going on fifteen! ..." He bounds over the sofa. "Who's to stop me?" He bounces up and down. "Who the hells to fucking well stop me?" Higher and higher he goes, somersaulting like an acrobat ... "Aren't-I-the-one-who-pays-for-every-thing! House!-Clothes!-Furni-ture!-My-facili-ties!-My-sofa!-Every-thing!-All-of-it! ..." He catapults off sideways, then he flies through the air and crashes down on top of my mother. "All of it! All of it! My facilities!"

another cigeret in your ugly gob, another beer in your missarable guts

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the friendly little old man with the cap, the limp and one blown out eye who lives 4 doors up from me and allways makes a point of saying hellow has reported me to that bitch of a land lady for not mowing my lawn, never triming my hedge and dumping old matrisses and house-hold junk in my back-yard  

this fucking house i rent has no heating, a subsideing kitchen floor, gaping holes in the skirting front and back and im going to go bang on that little fuckers door and explain to him that i come from a family of sick fuckers, preeners of lawns and masseus of automobies and that i dont fucking mow lawns and never polish fucking cars

'gimme some echo and some fuzz and some garbage can sound.'

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The great thing about the Pretty Things was that they didn't give two shits for blues purity, R&B purity, or any other kind of purity, except perhaps when it came to their drugs. They were therefore conceptually free to aesthetically amplify the physical uses to which distortion and proto power chord riffing could be put. Perhaps one downing the PTs was the Downliners Sect who indicated via their roughed up, impolite and impolitic take on the Chess label output that they did not give even a single shit for blues "purity." 

Every night for fifteen years, I fell to bed drunk

 

pdf, with thanks to the original sharer

 

 “Hangman Records,” says Childish, “it’s a bloody joke! All we did was to show people that it’s possible to make records without meaning to make a lot of money. Mind you, we ’re not even managing to do that, but what the hell. We just chuck mountains of stuff at the market and we always hope that something in the heap will turn out sufficiently commercial. Of course, commercial for us means the same as ruinous for others. We are highly talented business losers. We’ve still got some old Milkshakes recordings and with a bit of luck we’ll sell enough to finance the really ‘obscure’ stuff. Music is a really pretty nice old business, people like rhythm and all that stuff, it cheers em up”

 

 

this whole slew of crude recordings on shoestring labels.

pdf (190 pages / 135MB)

I had a friend who lived in this flat in west London - a really vile, scruffy, horrible, bloke's flat - but the one thing pristine in this mess was a Dansette in mint condition and a bunch of records on the auto changer. And they were all vintage London records, which he'd bought the first time round. And he wouldn't have parted with them, even though he was dirt poor. So I told him about Ted's stall, less than a minute's walk away. I remember the famous Elvis wallpaper and all these other stalls with their thin dividing walls, selling hippyish jewellery, retro clothing - and there, at the end of the row was a smelly, greasy caff - you'd go past the caff, and Ted had the whole back space, in an L-shape, with the stock behind the counter, belting out rock'n'roll and R&B at full blast.

Sky Saxon with his leopard skin suit jacket and silver glitter creepers

pdf (116 pages / 107MB)

 

BP-O  About 1981, '82 I met Mr. Sebastian in London. At that time he was the only man in Britain who was doing any kind of piercing and tattooing. He did it very, very secretly, only by recommendation from somebody he knew. It was a very secret practice only 20 years ago. They were going to charge him with conspiracy to commit grievous bodily harm. The case was known as the "Spanner Case," which is what the police called the squad that was set up, specially. The squad was set up to enforce the idea that any form of piercing or tattooing was illegal. It was illegal to knowingly cause a wound and a wound is defined as the skin being broken. If you tattoo or pierce someone, you are breaking their skin, which is grievous bodily harm, which is one step below manslaughter. So, it was a serious offense. They wanted to set a legal precedent, so they could victimize anybody who was different. They took him to court in the Old Bailey, which is where they put on trial murderers and spies. This is only 14, 15 years ago.

BB When you are walking around the streets now and see a piercing and tattooing parlor on every corner and Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson coming out of windows, you must feel responsible?

BP-O I didn't until Lady Jaye and I were walking down St. Marks Place one day and she turned to me and said I blame you for this.

One of my favorite stories is the one he tells about Julie London. He said that they originally signed her because of what a 'good looking dame' she was. I don't think they had even heard her sing anything. They just thought that the record would sell for the cover. One of the amazing things about that song, aside from how great her voice is, is the stripped down production. Everyone really responded to the different sound that added all that sultriness to her track and voice. The real reason for that was because they had spent all of their money on the cover and didn't have any money left for the musicians.