May 31, 2011

Album - Just For The Record.

 Casino shot their album cover today.  PrettyBoy's new love, Stacey, and his old band mate Brow (Craig from The Valentines) were the interests of the cover.  It was shot in a park in Johnstone, Glasgow, with a gritty, dilapidated background.  Brow dressed as a French mime artist, sad face with teardrops, black all-in-one, white gloves, and Stacey wore chav/ned gear that she still looked fabulous in!


A strange picture to visualise, but there will be a message in there somewhere that their minions will connect with.  They had to throw some toddlers off swings (and onto grass),and ask some older kids who were on school dinner break, if they minded vacating the area for a bit.  The kids were in awe at the whole process and took an interest in who they were.  PrettyBoy also handed a demo to each kid (always keep spare ones in cars!) as a kind of 'thanks for not throwing yer chips with broon sauce at us!' gesture.


 As usual  Mumma Mayhem gets to see and hear all the workings before the fans do.  And as much of an old fart as I am, they look after their relative elders!  If I had a pound for every time I've posted or mentioned/labelled them here, I would be a rich bitch! But hey - that's unashamed pride just fighting to get out.

It's strange how motherly one feels when they see young lads up on stage who grew up with your own kids. But sweat, bruises, and near crushed to death I will certainly tolerate. But I'm too old to get all steamed up over the developing music scene. I'll leave all that passion and hormonal adulation to the younger generation. Music is ageless, especially when it's quality gear, but mine's two sugars and a CD thank you very much! I'll leave you with the new 20 Rocks venue's live music promo picture(above) of some of the guys of Casino...and this particularly 'cool' snap of PrettyBoy for the CD booklet!  Whirly gig fans at the ready girls - that boy burns.......!!

May 29, 2011

The Young And In Lovers......

Yesterday my lads came in - both on different occasions - brandishing guitars and smiling awry smiles, both wanting to run a song that they had written, by me. So I downed tools (magazine and pack of Jelly Babies) and gave them my full attention.  Ballady and in warm tones.   Love songs with strange lyrics but I knew who they were written for. Their girlfriends, Stacey and Tierney. 
It's a weird feeling as a parent to accept that little bundle of joy you were not so long ago breastfeeding, is now a bundle of raging hormones himself and has expressed their young love (the same new love you had back then for their father)  into a song.   Big soft shites that they are. Oh, well, it's special and forever and saves on roses, I suppose. 

left: Adam with Tierney.
right: Ross with Stacey. 

ps......the BloggerRipper strikes again. He's changed the font sizes in this post a little but I suppose it's better than some-one else getting all the credit for a poem I penned!  

May 24, 2011

National KASSIDY Day

No, ladies of over-functioned ovaries, I  have not misspelt and mean David CASSIDY of yore - but Scotland's own, well, latest big sound. Kassidy are amazing and today gave Casino a nice little lift. Telfer (frontman) and Wee Mick (bassist) recorded an acoustic cover of two of their songs on Facebook and within minutes they got a few really spirit-boosting comments back from them.

Yes - they do have this respect for other bands that cover them, but Casino have one little edge over some. They actually gigged together in Stirling in Tolbooth, mingled in the bogs, smoked outdoor ciggies and all that!  A couple of months later - Kassidy got their big break. But despite fame, so far they have kept in touch with each other. I'm so proud of the music that is continually spewing out of Scotland, when you think how totesy we are!

These nice comments were left (not forcing anyone on a Facebook link here, coz most don't like it) so click on the pic to read the messages.   The silly shits haven't left the video in mode for downloading or else I'd have added the covers here. But if you DO want to have a listen, I mean, if you're brave it is!  You've got to fly the flag when you can.....!!


May 23, 2011

Song Of The Courtesan

                      (looks like the monocle man has just spotted the flag in my above post!)

What helps wash down a banquet but a host of pretty notes.
Little quavers, there to savour, on a cloud of wine she floats.

Merry as the day is long, darker than the mood
Men that mock, silly talk, drink that loosens, makes them lewd.

A far cry from their daylight stance, letting down their hair.
Coins enough, to see her buff, and grab a room, perhaps, upstairs?

Despite these shameful actions, the lute still sings along
Her lovely strings, with heavenly wings, knows neither right from wrong.

Again they'll grace the table, gather in their chosen seats
Our courtesan, the friend of man, a lullaby elite.

               *                                 *                              *
I know little of Sir Tournier, but to me this piece depicts
The said above, I state thereof, it had me most transfixed.

To view more masterpieces, though I'll find some 'tres' abstruse
I'll take the chance, and visit France. What will I have? Toulouse!

May 17, 2011

Tick Off!

                             * input from bookworms themselves

Oi! You pesky little mite, how dare you contemplate...!
Chomping through my case and books, as tasty as it maybe looks.
Prepare ye for insecticidey fate!
                                                       * ('you've no chance, mate!')

You see, my vast collection, is treasured by my mob.
Alphabetically tended, leather jackets stitched and mended.
Ready there to do their leafy job.
                                                       * ('our taste buds throb!')
Books older than my grampa, smell a little of him, too.
Tobacco prints on certain pages, lingers on war pics for ages.
Knows the glory, story through and through.
                                                       * ('we still must slew..')

Hardbacks full of nonsense, for my mum - the bored housewife.
Jackie Collins, effing , blinding, toyboys, tans and bareback riding.
So Mrs.Mop can lead a double life.
                                                        * ('how ghastly rife..')

My worshiped read - Vlad Nabokov, so intricate, offending.
Turns the subjects of taboo, so you accept, not misconstrue.
And come to yearn his sad, unhappy endings.
                                                         * (' ah, Russian rending..?')
Huge knowledge books on bottom shelves -  for weight, than read at will.
They've never heard of 'world wide web', or know that Princess Di is dead.
But act as a support to keep things still.
                                                         * ('oh, what a thrill..')

Grandma loves her cook books, and reads hymns that turn to song.
Revelations in the Bible, Old Nick 'v' his biggest rival
Though she'll curse him when the dish she made goes wrong!
                                                          *('we'll sing along..')

There's even ones with pictures, bordering on pornographic.
Hoofs and wings on manic creatures, bodies wrangled, viscious features.
Told in words, so rich and calligraphic.
                                                          * ('man - that's tragic!')

One sits so high and mighty, bearer of the golden hue.
There is no match, no competition, for this rare, unique edition.
Welcomes each of us to Xanadu.
                                                         * ('we'll chew and chew..')

Every home should have one, bookcase filled with word cuisine.
Fiction, facts in combination, liter-a-lise the whole damn nation.
While inner monologue's setting the scene.
                                                         * ('we'll wipe it clean..!)
So, hop it, death watch beetle, never, ever lose the plot.
Grandeur is a cheap illusion, your own death a forgone conclusion.
The taste of printed paper's for MY lot!!
                                                          * (gulp!...that's what you got.......!)

May 09, 2011

Dove Above Assisi

I never prayed, well, not unless
it was a selfish, vain request.
Strayed from God, strayed from hope,
a welcomed ride down that slippery slope.

A shunned self-harmer I've become,
though took no blade to anyone.
Confused and guilty, unrepentant,
no convincing though incessant.

Dreams were never this revealing,
cuts so deep yet with no feeling.
The sweetest smell adorns the room
as I dress my deep, symmetric wounds.

Why me, this messenger of doubt?
Borne from parents so devout.
We parted ways, this party-bride,
no longer needs a parental guide.

I'll still be around, they'll find dove feathers
crying out for our 'togethers'.
So lift a stone, I shall be there,
I'm the breeze you feel in the evening air.

Who'll sit with me on the ragged rock,
as I bathe the blood that values shock?
Sweet St.Francis promise me,
that no more holes will ever be...

Driven hard into my wrists,
by this I know that God exists.
Crucified, stigmatic hands
is not what body weight commands

No prayer, no sunshine, fountain wishes,
makes them accept 'whatever this is'.
St.Francis, hold my hand at night,
once the night nurse switches off the light.

May 06, 2011

Oh, Yes I Will - Oh, No You'll Not....!!


I WILL, make a start to adding my labels.
I WILL look into arranging 'the link within' thingy.
I WILL split my visited webs fairly and respond to 3 blogs/emails from each at a time.
I WILL complete the new header I have designed and put it up!
I WILL leave a link for my Facebook mob to visit here if they fancy.
I WILL award the best Saturday Sidebar from my blogroll with the coveted badge.
I WILL try and find out how to put music (with an optional easy-to-find mute button) to my blog.
I WILL upload new sidebar pictures, other favourite song videos and funny short (some homemade) videos.
I WILL upload the remaining 'new' family pictures to my side bars.
I WILL learn how to make a blog button.
I WILL organise my photo albums.
I WILL damn myself in the morning for having the instiest of a conscience.

May 04, 2011

Mite To Mound

(I've veered from the sad truth to an unrelated positive of this prompt)

Gathered steps from grand to mite
becomes your future overnight.
Borne to have, to cultivate,
sweet plantations there await.

We wave to father's trail that weaves,
among the pungent, drying leaves
Skin relations, tying links,
respect for what a woman thinks.

A whole with no hypocrisy,
a blip, a blood democracy
As evident as blazing star,
we track our loved ones from afar.

The smokey trails, the hissing streams,
the catcher feathering our dreams
Grandma's trembling hands may stealth,
to sell our goods and keep our health

Wonder Star, Returning Moon,
your day is over, none too soon.
Babes back in arms of their creator,
stars will call a little later.

Gathered round until again,
they venture on their many plains.
Alas we'll waive and watch the skies,
fill from which our lives derive.

To say goodbye in sacred mounds
Sweet Plantations, sacred grounds.