Saturday, January 8, 2011



Much has happened since my last entry, not least the naming of my son. I think I'd underestimated just how tough the entire naming process could be. In the UK there is a six week legal limit to give your baby some kind of title, I don't know what happens after that but needless to say we were down to the wire when we finally agreed on some kind of label for our bundle of joy. Yes we could have run our finger down the current and achingly dull 'Child Names Top 10' stopping at the first one that wasn't a name shared with one of my wife's ex-boyfriends but really? Doesn't exactly reek of creativity, care or thought does it?

Anyway, moving on to today's subject 'Stone Angel' by 'Stone Angel'. I bought this due to the fact it got nothing short of mad props in the book Galactic Ramble (Worth a look if you're in the market for a record based read). It's a private press from 1975 and regarded by many as an unsung classic of the Acid Folk genre.

'What so you spent three hundred quid on the original?'

'Nope, I put it on my Christmas list and was more than happy to receive the CD from my mum and dad.'


'You wouldn't say that if you heard it through my new stereo. You'd be too busy with your hand down the front of your pants writhing in aural ecstasy.'

New found father-hood has got my brain working in an entirely new way, in no short time, amongst other things I've invented the 'Scream Helmet', 'The Milky Finger' and the under arm tampon for men. The first two are fairly self explanatory the third I will expand upon. I'm not sure if it's a side effect of becoming a dad or not but suddenly I'm sweating like a mother fucker. The smell isn't an issue as much as the almost incomprehensible amount of moisture emitted by my armpits. It's as if that particular pat of my body has decided I'm living in a sub-tropical climate, a jungle or the like.

And exactly what does that have to do with 'Stone Angel? Well as I sit here and write with the window wide open, despite the cool breeze and low temperature I am sweating, the armpits of my t-shirt moist and clammy

I have tried every deodorant and anti-perspirant out there even a special one for stinky women but no. I still arrive at work every day with tears of moisture running down the sides of my torso. Tired of this I took the matter in hand and wedged two large folds of kitchen towel underneath my arms before setting off on my commute and you know what? It actually worked. Yes my rummaging in my shirt and producing wads of flowery ultra-absorbent paper raised questions in the office but that's a small price to pay for a new level of dryness - Manpons - Underarm tampons for men.

This reminds me a lot of the music from 'The WIcker Man', the tempo and the Jew's harp, the aprons and worrisome moustaches, 'Stone Angel' has it all. But Is it any good? Well, we're on to track 3 and it's not offended me in any..... Oh wait. We are now nuts-deep in 'Hey Nonny Nonny' territory with the added 'bonus' of a Roy Wood of Wizard sounding guitar.

'Traveller's Tale' is up next and it's alright, but I have to be a honest it's a bit too much folk and not enough acid thusfar. I mean at the moment we are within 6 degrees of separation of 'The Wurzels' and that's not somewhere I feel particularly comfortable. I dunno, maybe I woke up without my 'Folk' head on but this just makes me want to drink cider and say 'Ooo Arr' a lot in a Naughty Fred West Country accent.

It's nice enough when the singing stops, the flute and the guitar is fresh, bright, meticulous even. Unfortunately the sum of the parts is just a bit... Is this what Tractor drivers listen to when they are hauling pig shit up and down back country roads at five miles an hour? I bet it is. I bet this was sold as mail-order only out of the back of Farmer's Weekly. You see it's conjuring all of the wrong images. I want to close my eyes and see something like the sleeve of 'The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter' instead I've got an image of Devon's favorite son of comedy Jethro sat in a hedge. I feel dirty. I feel like eating a 'plough man's lunch' and having sex with a pig.

Not sure there's any coming back from this. I think that term 'Acid Folk' is batted about too freely 'Stone Angel' is just plain old straw chewing, trousers held up with twine, mead drinking Folk, the kind they warn you about at school and to that young sire I say 'Hey Nonny NO!'

And before I forget I should make it official. I am now the proud pater of one Ren Josef Ramone Robbins. Future drummer with some awesome hardcore revivalist jazz-core band, that or the fastest man alive, I'm not fussy as long as he doesn't up in agriculture dancing round a maypole to this tripe.

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