Gig reviews/Lieslieslies

So! Missed all the gigs this weekend due to the fact that this country can’t handle weather or economics… bbuuttt here’s some reviews anyway done kinda like a Haiku. but not really…Why? Coz I must


Shit Robot…..spankin

We are Scientists…..Edgy

Wedding Present…..Gedgy

Fight like Apes…..Munki


Still there was one unexpected positive this weekend. Answers on a postcard if you know what that was. The prize will be some dip…

Dip colour may vary

irina palm offkilter/tubridy uncomfortable around children shock…yeah righty

That was a nice movie, kinda… Stretch’s multimedia aspect wll be back soon.

After missing the Wedding present tonight, I will venture forth to Fight Like Apes, missing WASP and Underworld in the process. Buses or booses like my friend usedta say. He wont be offended. He can’t read. It’s odd coz although FLAps are a teenager’s band, I do enjoy their pithy, charming lyrics and their singer’s Siouxiesque perform. Oh listen to me. Up myself totally. CulturefuckingShowesqueeee. I’m changing my name to Hermione MacGibbon. The Underworld gig will be interesting for having such quality support. Shit Robot is great and should get the kudos.

Peep Show brought back some uncomfortable truths. I drank an awful amount of tea and ate a lot of toast. Weird. There’s dry ice in my brain and hairspray in my heart and some rum at the end of my chin.

STRETCH SONGS OF JOY 2009 Part Un (of trois, Je suis desolee)

Stretch to the music AGAIN!

I will not do my favourite albums from the last decade, BECAUSE who gives a shit what I liked when I was

I hates Stretch Macgibbon. I am not schizophrenic and my head is not...well maybe my head is huge but...

on super drugs in 2001, or during my Taoist phase in 2003, or my bisexual week in 2006 when I bought every Sheep on Drugs album I could find, but then went back to tha LAYDEES? No one. So why would you be interested in Stretch Songs of Joy 2009? Well, because it’s fucking deadly!

2009 was all over the place. Major ups, horrible lows and the usual middling feeling that has kept the centre of Irlandia mired in a wet bog since the dark ages. A premonition of a wondAful new decade happened the other night. Stretch foresees Ups lows and that usual middling feeling. Hmmm, no change there then.

Anyway, here is the first five songs I did like last year. Gargantuan-headed slut Miley

Cyrus and Susan

Boyle’s wet dream, Michael Buble, didn’t make the cut this year. Lady (I did not rob my ting from Roisin) Gaga’s ridiculous outfits failed to draw away from her ridiculous voice, so she also missed out. Pensioners U2 released their “we don’t care if the fans don’t like it, we love our new sound” album No Line on the Horizon. Stretch predicts they may return out of their assholes with a huge album with the old sound ON IT very soon. I tried to find room for Fleet Foxes, but would have had to shave off all their hair, and as we know, it is impossible to make indie music these days without unkempt beards and brown cordurouy.

First up

The Black Dog – Tunnels Ov Set (Autechre Remix)

As  we all know, Autechre have fans who like the beautiful sounds heard on the albums, Amber and Incunabula. Others love the carefully constructed manicness of Gantz Graf and Untilted. Most go, “who are Autechre?” These people are many and all around us. Still, this gem of a mix was released this year and I find myself compelled to play it loud in front of visiting priests or social workers, if only to take their minds off the evil that lurks within. YOU NEEDS TO PLAY IT LOUD. THEN STAB THE PRIEST IN THE HEART WITH A MELON-BALLER AND SLIT THE SOCIAL’S THROAT (NOT THROATH) WITH THEIR CLIPBOARD. Leftover cake can be wrapped up and donated to the deceased’s famly. Phew..

W.A.S.P. – Crazy

It is only when Blackie Lawless is staring at you from the stage, with a look that says, “I’m going to fuck you, you little monkey,” that you realise the power of this 97 year old woman. This is probably the catchiest song I have heard in a long time, and the former New York Doll really seems to have the appetite for it again. The wild sold-out show in Dublin recently seemed to surprise the younger members of his band, who were wringing their hankies all through the set. A song very close to Stretch’s heart because of the bafflement I feel every morning!

Andrew Weatherall – A Pox on the Pioneers

After his exertions as DJ, producer and with his partner Keith Tenniswood in the brilliant Two Lone Swordsmen, it is hard to believe that A Pox on the Pioneers is Weatherall’s debut solo album. A seafaring odyssey, the first time I heard it I was kinda puzzled at the sound, but eventually grew to lust after this ska tinged, rockabilly product with an oddly new romantic feel. Now there’s a mouthful. (Insert Tiger Woods joke here)

It also contains the best lyric this year for a chorus “To hell with all those lost at sea, fuck the folk on the wild frontiers, to hell with them eternally, and a pox on all the pioneers” That should win an award on its own. Kudos dudo.

Bonobo – The Keeper featuring Andreya Triana

Now for something to listen to while contemplating the mess you made of your life while eating your cornflakes. Another slice of Bonobo magic. I presume Simon Green gets down sometimes, locks himself in the box room, draws blood, smears it all over the mocha-painted walls and screams out the whole of Slayer’s Reign in Blood, while ringing people he went to school with to tell them how much he hated their haircuts and attempts at sarcasm. But in general, he creates music that is chilled and uplifting, which is lucky for the person who has to paint the box room every six months. His new album, called I will kill your granny with my big shiny axe, while stuffing her rabbit!, is out next year on Ninja Tunes.

Shit Robot – Simple Things (Work It Out)

I love this song. It just goes on and on and makes Stretch all happy! Shit Robot is Marcus Lambkin and he’s from International dipshit Damien Dempsey’s lair Dubalin towin (surely it should be Shite Robot then). After realising the limitations of Dubalin, he went all traitor and fucked off to New York which is why I am probably talking about him now. With Nation of Ulysees punk dude on vocals, Ian Svenonius, this song just makes you wanna DAYANCE. Not like Kevin Bacon in the middle of a circle jerk or Tom Cruise in his underpants, but in your kitchen hosting a dinner party, with a meat cleaver in your hand laughing hysterically, but oh look, you haven’t seen the spilled chianti, you thrust forward with your hips, and are thrown at the table of guests, you cry “move the hummous, move the hummous” and the inevitable happens. Dinner party over.

Don’t like my bullshit, check out cool people’s lists on the best source of music that is BOOMKAT. You won’t find donkey-toothed marketing director Hannah Montana here, although she may be in disguise. Beware

WASP are coming

friday week….Blackie is a comin…

I once rang 2FM when I was a child, got through to the DJ and asked him innocently to play “Animal (fuck like a beast)” He said,

“This is not that type of radio station!”

I was perplexed.

Why do people on social networking sites write ‘f**k’ when they want to say ‘fuck’?

I am perplexed.

Murder on Raglan Road

Stretchmarking the universe with mummylicious bubbles!

I remember as a young Stretch hearing “Raglan Road” performed by one of my cousins at some party back

The future, yeah? my hole

The future, yeah? my hole

in the way-back-when. Too young to be involved, and too terrified of old weird gummy relations shoving money into my pockets expectantly, I hovered around the music observing the ways of the sing-song. Of all the amazing music from these sessions, the renditions of “A Long Way from Clare to Here” and “Raglan Road” have always kinda haunted me. At this time I had just heard Led Zeppellin IV, so I had to readjust my mind to this old style religion.

Years later, after arse-ripping experiences such as WASP’s “I Wanna Be Somebody” and Motley Crue’s “Talk Dirty to Me” I first heard Luke Kelly’s version of “Raglan Road.” It was a revelation. At that time the youths I knew were split into disparate groups, with a code of one-type-of-music-only-please. Cure heads, rockers, punks, mods, goths, big-fisted country Smoky fans, pantsuit-wearing new romantics:  a melting pot with some of the most obnoxious ingredients. I realised that in a small way, I could listen to other types of music like trad, country, death metal, Stooges, bluegrass, cajun, and still feel that because of my Anthrax t-shirt that I was still part of one of the individual food groups.

It meant that I could take a slagging for listening to Boxcar Willie or Louis Armstrong (pre-advertisements days), with the knowledge that later on in life, I would listen to whatever I want without feeling uncool or sumthin. I didn’t remove my fingerless gloves or tie-dye t-shirts or cut-off t-shirts and decide that I’m a grown up now: Where’s my copy of  A Rush of Blood to the Head?etc In reality, I pretty much dress the same now as I did when I was an eleven year old Stretch. What I’m trying to say is, Yeah, I’m fucking great and better than you!

Luke Kelly defined that song to the extent that I cringe mercilessly when I hear other versions of it, which is fine when I’m watching on TV or sniggering at the radio, but when someone sings it at a party, my stomach lurches and my blood pressure goes up from trying to stay stony-faced as other people nod. The weird thing about it is that anytime I hear anyone sing “The Auld Triangle” I love it. (Check out the Pogues version).  The effect just isn’t the same.

To illustrate my point I will cause whoever bothers to read my mlog to watch some examples of the atrocities committed, sometimes well-meaningly, on this great song. At the end, Luke Kelly will do for you what he did for me, back when I was as small as baboon’s testicle.

nothing like talking slowly and being earnest to make me vomit until the morning star holds my hair back and says, “will I make you a piece of toast?”

Phil Coulter, Ireland’s first soft-porn star forces Mary Black to sing outside in the freezin cold, in a trench coat so large that she became embroiled in the Watergate scandal with no mention of cocaine whatsoever. Oh no

Irlandia’s self proclamed King of the Travellers eats my vomit then vomits it all over me. Oh the lack of dignity is shockin (fake Dubalin accent). Nice guitar tho, but shut up ya bollocks. I’d say Satan was the one doing the kneeling on this occasion.


see, you can’t actually kill Damien Dempsey, it would be too ironic and you’d only annoy yourself. Beheading the prick and stuffing a rag in his mouth might work though.

anyway here’s the original and y’know….

Still can’t find Motley Crue’s version