The Misogyny Myth Exposed

Unfortunately, i seem to have some explaining to do. After singing, rather ferociously "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorn" and "Where there's female, you're bound to find bondage and lies", at recent gigs, a number of people have made some rather ridiculous assumptions.

First of all, i would like to stress, i am not a woman hater, in fact quite the opposite, though philanderer is too far polar.

Second of all, don't take the lyrics in these songs too seriously, for crying out loud *arghhhghghgh*. I have written a number of songs that have taken on the subject of male frustration with the opposite sex. They are intended half serious, half humorous. Women are always voicing their venomous opinions of men, and what is our response? Indifference, generally. Though these songs are not at all intended to be poisonous, or inciting hate for those divine creatures that men find so puzzling. They are notes on subtle experiences i've had in the past, that many can empathise (and possibly sympathise) with. Songs are all about taking small ideas and embellishing them til a hook hangs.

I beg you humourless folk to grasp this concept before there's a witch hunt and my limbs are fed to St George's pigeons. Though i'd secretly love the fact that i would no longer be a burden on the earth's resources if that happened.

Calm be with you.

The Corkhill Cult

Here they come, blue by blue, the denim army...an uninspired view.

Take a look down any busy street, and from the waist down you will see 90% of the pedestrians wearing denim jeans, most probably blue jeans. What the hell happened? Did Jimmy Corkhill descend from his scally cloud and brainwash everyone while i was asleep one night?

"Worship me, and i will provide for you in heaven. I did not die on the cross, but i went out with a rant in a blue denim jacket. Do you remember my final hour? The great orator that i am. Now pledge your allegiance to my scally but righteous way of life, and don some denim garment, and i shall know, when i look down from the faded stonewashed gates of Brookside, that you, are with me, Czar Corkhill."

Or is it an "expression" of anti-establishment sentiment, against school uniforms, against work uniforms? And what does the Corkhill cult come up with...all wearing jeans, all the time? Yet another uniform.

The Eternal Monotony of Passion

"Being sure she loved him, he did not trouble to please her, and imperceptibly his manner changed. He no longer used the tender words which made her weep, nor did he lavish on her those vehement caresses which almost deprived her of her senses...(he) contrived to hide is indifference."

Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert, 1856

It has been written and expressed countless times before, century after century, and still the conclusion is the same. It transcends time, geography, and culture...the circle of perpetual seduction:

"...the humiliation of feeling how weak she was, turned her to rage, which was appeased by voluptuous pleasures. It was not attachment, it was perpetual seduction."

This is coming from an ageing lonesome batchelor in a damp and breezy loft conversion on a night when the Drizzle Cabaret are in town. If you're married and happy, are you thinking "he just hasn't found the right one yet...he will...and all his untethered misery will evaporate like the drizzle that numbs him."?

Picture sensuality plotted on a graph, as a Sine wave. It peaks and troughs exponentially into the future. Depending on how you react to the above statements, will position you on the sine wave somewhere.

No relief...no more depth...this is all there is in romance. I'm serious, this is all there is to it.

The Torment

These days, every place i play, it rains heavily, yielding a negligible and/or indifferent audience, making me feel a damned fool and sending me into a wretched state of sullenness.

To the higher power, whatever incarnation you actually take on: Why me? Have I slayed men? Have i seduced virgins? Have i wrecked homes? Do i wax lyrical about my own genius and believe every word?

None of those things, do i do. And yet, i understand the incredible fortuitous position i find myself in, a young British male with myopia being my only significant physical defect, how can i possibly raise my skinny fists to the sky and beg of you...more fortune?!