Thirty Five Minutes Of England Mix

I’m really not a very patriotic person at all, it being as Oscar Wilde said, 'the last refuge of the scoundrel'. The markers of patriotism have always felt like nonsense to me- the flag (either of them, the cross of St. George and the Union flag), the national anthem, the monarchy, the Little England attitudes, the English exceptionalism, all of it does nothing for me. It makes no sense at all that someone who was born in Carlisle, Dover or Chester is in some way better than someone born a few miles away in Wrexham, Calais or Dumfries. Pride in one's country and it's achievements is I suppose OK to an extent but that pride often tips over into nationalism and exceptionalism and has a habit of hiding or ignoring some parts of a nation's history too. 

Supporting the England football team has always been tainted with all of the nonsense too. It's not necessarily the team's fault, they're partly just the vehicle for it. Tabloid controversies about whether the players are singing the national anthem with enough ‘passion’. Songs about winning two world wars, ten German bombers and no surrender to the I.R.A. Grown men dressed as crusader knights. The England band (thankfully now missing). Car flags and cheap red cross on white background bunting sagging in the summer rain. The booing by their own fans of players taking the knee to protest against racism. The deluge of racist messages that Bukayo Saka, Marcus Rashford and Jadon Sancho received after missing their penalties in the 2021 Euro final. This was almost the last straw as far as I was concerned, ‘fans’ who would have been dancing in the streets if the penalty kicks had been a few inches one way or the other, taking to social media to racially abuse the young men who were taking part in a game was sickening and reflective of the wider culture- of Reform and UKIP, of Tory Little England politics, of the immigration narrative that Farage and Johnson and others fuelled by the tabloid press have spewed into British politics and English culture, of the nationalist nonsense that is only ever a sentence away from racism and the 'I'm not racist but...' brigade. 

The football team have dragged me back in over the last four weeks. I've tried to remain a bit arm's length from it, not get too invested. I boycotted the Qatar World Cup, hardly saw any of it, so it passed me by completely. But there was a sweet pleasure in watching the England penalties against Switzerland last Saturday, as five black and mixed race young men calmly slotted home their penalty kicks, the first and second generation descendants of immigrants putting England into a Euro semi- final. Where, as someone asked on social media after the match, are the racists now? Another of those children of immigrants, Ollie Watkins, scored the winner on Wednesday night, in the last second of the last minute of normal time.  

Tonight, England play Spain in the final of Euro ’24 in Berlin. This is a major achievement, the second consecutive Euros final. Those of us who grew up watching England in the 80s and 90s have seen little but failure from England teams. Sometimes they have been truly awful- the Euros in ’88, ’92 and 2016, the World Cup in 2014. Sometimes they’ve been massively overinflated and departed meekly beaten by clearly better sides- tournaments in 2002, 2006, 2010, 2012. Sometimes they’ve been engulfed by (in)glorious failure with a sense of injustice- Mexico ’86, France ’98. Sometimes they’ve not even qualified for tournaments- 1994, 2008. Very occasionally they’ve pulled it together and almost but not quite got to the final- 1990 and 1996. But on the whole, even if you can ignore the nationalist bluster that surrounds them, they've been not very good. 

Recently they’ve been better and if nothing else Gareth Southgate has changed the story around the England team, blocked out ‘the noise’ as he puts it. I’ve learned to limit my expectations of England. Reaching Euro finals twice in three years is something no other England manager or team has done. Hopefully, maybe, they can go one step further tonight and put to bed the endless burden of 1966 and all that. 

This is a thirty five minute mix of songs about England with a couple of England football songs. I'm sure some of you won't go anywhere near it but I like to think of it as the antithesis of Three Lions.

Thirty Five Minutes Of England For Euro 24

• Billy Bragg: A New England
• The Clash: Something About England
• The Clash: This Is England
• Care: Sad Day For England
• Black Grape: England's Irie
• Shuttleworth ft. Mark E. Smith: England's Heartbeat (Brazilian Ambush)
• The Vermin Poets: England's Poets
• Big Audio Dynamite: Union, Jack
• New Order: World In Motion (Call The Carabinieri Mix)

Billy Bragg's A New England is his 1983 calling card, a song about being twenty two and looking for a new girl, wishing on space hardware, and life in the early 80s. I probably should have included Kirsty McColl's cover which in some ways is the definitive version. In 2002 Billy addressed a load of the flag, nationalism, immigration, tabloid press, racism and England football shirts in his song Half- English- this only occurred to me while writing this part of the post. 

Something About England is from The Clash's 1980 album Sandinista!, a song that opens with the more resonant than ever lines, 'They say the immigrants steal the hub caps of respected gentlemen/ They say it would be wine and roses/ if England were for Englishmen again...' It's a truly great song, one where ick and Joe sing in character, Mick a young man leaving a bar and Joe an old man huddled in rags in a shop doorway. They then give us a history of the 20th century, war, depression, class struggle, disaster, all set to Clash punk/ music hall. 'Old England was all alone', they conclude.

A few years later, Mick and Topper both sacked, Joe recorded the final Clash album, Cut The Crap. The only song you really need from it is This Is England, the last great Clash song, Joe giving a state of the nation address, five years into Thatcher's government, economic depression and unemployment, with drum machines, guitars and chanting football crowds.  

Care was Paul Simpson (who will be back at this blog soon) and Ian Broudie. In 1983 Paul formed Care after The Wild Swans split for the first time. Sad Day For England was the B-side to the 12" My Boyish Days, one of only a handful of releases by the pair before they split in 1985. 

Black Grape's England's Irie was an unofficial Euro '96 song, a song that brought together Shaun Ryder, bez and Kermit with Keith Allen and Joe Strummer (and Strummer's only Top Of The Pops appearance). Shaun delivers several memorable lines, not least 'I'm spectating my wife's lactating/ It's a football thing'. I'm not sure it's aged particularly well but I thought I should include it. 

Shuttleworth were a one off band of Mark E. Smith, Ed Blaney and Jenny Shuttleworth who recorded this song for England's adventures at the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. Apparently the FA approached him to do it (!) but then decided against having an official song so Mark put it out anyway. Mark wrote a few football related songs- Theme For Sparta FC is a classic- and on one occasion read the full time results on the BBC. 

In the 2010 World Cup England were dreadful in the group stage, finishing second behind the USA. They lost the next game in the knock out round to Germany, 4- 1. 

The Vermin Poets were one of Billy Childish's many, many groups. Their album, Poets Of England, came out in 2010, garage rock/ psyche pop. I don't think it's among Billy's best work but anything by Billy is worth paying at least some attention to. 

Union, Jack was on Big Audio Dynamite's 1989 album Megatop Phoenix, their fourth album and the last made by the original line up. 'Make a stand/ Before you fall/ You country needs you/ To play football', Mick sings, slipping in lines the empire, pints of beer, a green and pleasant land, and all for one. A Mick Jones late 80s football song that tries to re- imagine the football song after some terrible 80s ones sung by England squads with perms, mullets and in leisure wear. Mick would find himself trumped a year later though...

World In Motion needs no introduction really- New Order, Keith Allen, John Barnes, the summer of 1990, Italia 90, a dire group stage, wins against Belgium and Cameroon and then ultimately disappointment, penalties and Germany. This version is an Andrew Weatherall and Terry Farley remix from the remix 12" that came out a week after the main one. New Order had wanted to reflect the zeitgeist of 1990 by calling the song E For England, a step too far for the FA. They had to settle for the chorus, 'love's got the world in motion'. The FA wanted it changed to 'we've got the world in motion' but New Order stood their ground and love it was. 

Saturday Theme Twenty Five

In 2003 The Fall released an album that was as good as anything they'd done for a decade, titled The Real New Fall LP (Formerly Country On The Click). Mark E Smith was unhappy with the mix on what was intended to be released as  Country On The Click and pulled it to re- mix it. Some copies leaked out. Mark described the Country On the Click mix as resembling 'Dr Who meets Posh Spice'. One of the Real New Fall LP's stand out songs was this...

Theme From Sparta F.C. 

Ben Pritchard's descending guitar riff intro and clattering drums and then the crunchy guitar riff running through it are exciting enough, handclaps and chants add to the joy. Mark's lyrics are brilliant, his narrator a Greek football fan of a fictional Greek football club (Turkish club Galatasaray feature too- when Manchester United played there in the 90s, trying to navigate their way through the group stages of the then new fangled Champions League, a banner at the home end read 'Welcome To Hell'. The United's player's faces, some well travelled and seasoned footballers among them, suggested that playing there was indeed like an away game in Hades). 'Come and have a bet/ We live on blood', the Greek fan/ Mark chunters, 'We are Sparta F.C.' The English fans of Chelsea get their marching orders too- 'English Chelsea fan/ This is your last game', he threatens and adds, 'Take your fleecy jumper/ You won't need it any more... No more ground boutique at match in Chelsea'. It's funny and unnerving.

Theme From Sparta F.C. was recorded at Lisa Stansfield's studio in Rochdale. A year earlier a version had been recorded for John Peel and a year later a re- recorded version became a single- but as the early 21st century line up of The Fall batter their way through this new garage classic and Mark slurs and sing speaks as only he can, there's no doubt that this is the one, electrifying, compelling and uniquely The Fall. 

Love's Got The World In Motion

If I ever thought (and I don't think I ever did) that popular culture- sport, music, film, fashion etc- existed in an escapist bubble outside society and politics then the last few weeks have really made it clear to me. When Euro 20 started I had a really hard time summoning up any enthusiasm for supporting England. Given their frequent and regular poor performances at major tournaments I have watched them play in since 1982 this could just be down to England tournament fatigue, but there's more to it than that and much of it is down to what's happened during the last few years. 

People like to say that the St George's cross flag was 'reclaimed' from the far right at Euro 96. That may be true but it feels like the far right have claimed it back over the last decade. England flags flying from cars and houses have coincided with the rise of an ugly strain of English nationalism that has been used to drive wedges between communities. The national anthem is a pointless dirge, a celebration of monarchy which I can't sing or feel any kinship to. The never-ending obsession with the Second World war is baffling- it's over, it ended seventy six years ago, really, get over it. The crowd at Wembley booing other nation's national anthems- something they've done for years- looks worse and worse every time it happens. The people booing England's players taking the knee are even worse (and worse than them are those people booing while at home watching on TV and then posting it on social media- grown men filming themselves booing young black men for taking a stance against racism but then cheering them when they score. It beggars belief). You can argue that taking the knee a gesture that doesn't achieve anything but booing people for taking a position against racism is surely showing support for racism. That's the funny thing about modern racists, they want the 'freedom' to be racist but object to being called racist. Johnson's populist government's incessant culture wars are all wrapped up in this kind of politics, button pushing and barrel scraping, appealing to the worst in people, dividing and conquering. The rest of the UK seems to be coming round to a position of wanting to reject England and that small minded version of Englishness, and who can blame them?

On the other hand, the team themselves seem to be a genuinely decent bunch of young men, from multi- cultural backgrounds, led by a manager who is thoughtful and considered. In Raheem Sterling they have a young man from a North London council estate who gets a disproportionate amount of criticism from the press which you can only conclude is due to his skin colour. In Marcus Rashford they have a young man from a South Manchester council estate who has provided more effective opposition to the government and it's policies over the last year than the actual leader of the opposition. In Gareth Southgate you have a man who wrote a much more effective response to and defence of the position the team have taken against racism than any other I've read (a Tory minister has apparently said they regard his statement as 'suspiciously well written'- in other words, he couldn't have written it, a mere footballer, which tells you what you need to know about how this government look down at people they see as beneath them). As the tournament has gone on, I've tried to ignore the flags, the anthem, the booing, the tabloid version of Englishness and just appreciate the matches As they've gone on into the knock out stages (and become more fun to watch) it's become easier to watch and support England, but there's a latent nastiness to Englishness at the moment that is difficult to block out completely.

Overthinking it? Possibly. But none of this stuff- music, football, life- happens in a vacuum and popular culture and pop culture are products of or reactions to the real world. Tonight, England (the team) play Denmark (themselves the true heroes of this tournament with the horrific scenes in opening weekend when Christian Eriksen suffered a heart attack on the pitch and then the rest of the team were given the choice playing the rest of the game then or the day after). For once the England team have a genuine chance of reaching a final. It would be daft not to try to enjoy it. 

Back in 1990 pop culture collided with football in a way it hadn't before. Not New Order's best song but the best England World Cup song and one of the memories of a summer that seemed to go on forever. 

World In Motion (Carabinieri Mix)

World In Motion (No Alla Violenza Mix)

Tony Adams

I'm not an Arsenal fan- my allegiances are with Manchester United- but I have an admiration for Tony Adams, the Arsenal and England centre back, twenty two years with one club and club captain for much of that time. The sort of player you'd like in your team. He had well documented problems with alcohol and at times has the look of a man who has been hollowed out on the inside.

In 1999 Joe Strummer put out his first album with The Mescaleros, Rock, Art and The X Ray Style. After his self declared Wilderness Years, roughly spanning the break up of The Clash and this record, Rock, Art... was a comeback, an album that was confident and coherent, Joe back at the top of his game lyrically and vocally with a sympathetic band and top class collaborators. The opening song is named after the Arsenal man (and as far as I know Strummer was a Chelsea fan, for his sins). Tony Adams starts with a burst of static, some squally guitar and tom toms and then Joe on the mic 'late news breaking, this just in...' Joe goes on to describe a power cut in New York over a Clash- like groove, reggae guitars and saxophone. The chorus is a rousing 'Hey hey the morning sun/Has anybody seen the morning sun?'

Tony Adams 

In typical Joe Strummer style the song drags in all sorts of pop culture and apocalyptic imagery, funky Broadway, a solar flare, Tony Bennett, the search for a phone, dead men, debris and party hats. No clear reference to Tony Adams. When I saw him at Manchester Academy touring this album, a raucous and heady gig with Clash songs causing mass celebrations, Joe introduced this song by asking us to put aside our tribalism and rivalries and appreciate the man of the song's title. Which we did. Adams had published his autobiography Addicted the year before and it was this acclaimed book, the story of Tony's life long struggle, that struck a chord with Joe.

“England is used to worship a brand new band every now and then and throw them away into the ten following minutes. England is used to get rid of these kind of people, that’s disgusting. That’s a vicious behaviour but symptomatic of one certain illness which corrupts the UK. I’ve written one song about that which is called “Tony Adams”: No one in this fucking country rose up when he was denied the England armband, whilst he was winning his own fight against alcoholism. People might imagine footy is mundane, sometimes mundane stuff are important. We need people like Tony Adams.”

As Flies To Wanton Boys

“As flies to wanton boys, we are for the gods. They will kill us for the sport. Soon, the science will not only be able to slow down the ageing of the cells, soon the science will fix the cells to the state and so we will become eternal. Only accidents, crimes, wars will still kill us but unfortunately crimes and wars will multiply. I love football.”



I'm not going to comment on the genius of Cantona, his quoting King Lear or his dress at a formal UEFA awards ceremony. It's all there to be enjoyed by each of us. It is worth in the clip below watching the faces of the footballers in the audience, Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo among them, and wondering what they are making of King Eric, the only footballer that matters. 

La Passionara

Here's a well Balearic instrumental from an 80s pop group which has been enriching my life recently. In 1990 The Blow Monkeys released an album called Springtime For The World, fully informed by dance music culture. Album track and single La Passionara was a Spanish influenced instrumental (with odd bits of voice at the start and throughout but mainly just Iberian guitars, synths and lazy drums). It gained a vocal for the single but the 12" is the one you need, perfect for those warm evenings we're still getting.

La Passionara (12" version)

Given Dr Robert and The Blow Monkeys politics and political pop I've always assumed that the title refers to La Passionara (Dolores Ibarruri), the Basque heroine of the Spanish Republic of 1936-1939 and the Spanish Civil War. She was famous for her No Passaran! slogan, galvanising the defenders of Madrid during the battle for the city in November 1939 and her speeches throughout the war. The statue of her pictured above actually stands in Glasgow not Madrid.

This also means I can add it to my Spanish Civil War mixtape, something I wrote about back in 2012 which seemed like a good idea at the time. Some day I may fnd time to actually put it together in some format.

Which links nicely to this- non-league football team Clapham CFC have been deluged with thousands of orders from Spain for their new away kit for the 2018-19 season, a kit in the colours of the Republic (purple, yellow and red) with La Passionara's slogan on the back, honouring the volunteers of the International Brigades who went to Spain to fight fascism when the democratic, western powers refused to help the legitimate government against a military, fascist coup by Franco (whose allies Hitler and Mussolini had no such qualms about sending help). More here.

8

Morning. If it is morning when you're reading this. Hope you're feeling alright. On January 1st 2010 I published my first post here at Bagging Area. Today, 3441 posts and 9727 comments later, the blog turns 8. Thank you to all of you who read it, thanks especially to those who comment, and here's to a few more. I never really set a deadline or expiry date when starting out. I'll keep going as long as there is something to write about I  suppose. Like this...

Songs with 8 in the title aren't numerous. This is a 1985 R.E.M. song about a passenger train running through the southern states. The chorus goes ''and the train conductor says 'take a break driver 8, driver 8 take a break, we can reach our destination but we're still a ways away''. In 2008 Michael Stipe introduced Driver 8 live by saying 'this is a song that represents great hope and great promise, a song that represents the dream of the United States of America'. So it's about that too.

Driver 8

This is from 1990's still stunning 90 album this is a song that pays tribute to a drum machine. An attention grabbing intro followed by rave synths and beats with a great breakdown section.

808080808

In the days when football teams were numbered 1-11 number 8 was always a central midfielder- not the flash captain figure of the number 7 shirt and not the centre forward of number 9 but in between, a gutsy, hard tackling midfielder, someone who did the simple things well and chipped in with the odd goal. In the 90s Paul Ince and Nicky Butt were the number 8 shirt wearers at United. In the 80s the shirt belonged to Gordon Strachan and Remi Moses (and for a season apiece Ashley Grimes and Ray Wilkins). In the picture below Remi is to the left of Diego Maradona in a European Cup Winners Cup second leg at Old Trafford, one of the greatest games I've attended. Diego barely got a look-in all night. The first leg had finished 2-0 to Barcelona. The return leg was won 3-0 by United, with goals from Bryan Robson and Frank Stapleton, but the end to end performance of Remi was behind it. In the next round he marked and tackled Michel Platini of Juventus out of the game. Injury forced him to retire in 1988, aged just 28.

It Don't Bother Me

After work tonight I'm heading up the M6 for the first international bloggers summit in Glasgow where a weekend of middle aged men talking nonsense and drinking awaits. Tomorrow afternoon some of us are going to the Excelsior Stadium in Airdrie to watch the mighty Diamonds play Queen's Park and hopefully secure their position in the play offs. Before that, record shopping at Monorail (and maybe a pint or two).

I have been to a Scottish football match before I now recall, on a 6th form weekend away in Edinburgh in 1987. A bunch of us went to Easter Road to watch Hibs play Aberdeen. We wandered down to pay on the gate, avoiding various scuffles on the way between supporters of Hibs and the Dons. At half time almost every single person on the home end pissed through the fence onto the steps that led up to the turnstiles. An elderly man standing next to me shouted abuse at Aberdeen keeper Jim Leighton all the way through the second half. Truly, these were the days. I don't know what Jim had done to earn this abuse other than be in goal. The old man made repeated reference to Leighton's bandy legs in conjunction with a part of female anatomy. Within weeks Jim Leighton signed for my club Manchester United where he kept goal until being dropped for the 1990 FA Cup Final after one howler too many.

Bert Jansch was born in Glasgow in 1943 and is widely regarded as the king of British folk guitar. This track has just surfaced online ahead of some re-issues, a song recorded with Johnny Marr, the king of indie guitar, in the early 2000s. Lovely stuff.

There Is More To Life Than This

There's so much stuff going on right now. Head spinning. Political parties collapsing in front of our eyes and decades old certainties vanishing. Anger all over the place.

Tonight England play Iceland at Euro 2016. I've loved the Icelandic team and fans. England have a real banana skin waiting for them and Roy Hodgson is under pressure to deliver after criticism of tactics, selection and strategy. England out of Europe? Twice in four days?

Prior to the Icelandic football team Bjork was their most exciting export. This song off Debut is a joy, lighthearted and in love with itself. The vocals were recorded live in the Milk Bar, London. The bit where the toilet door shuts and and the beat and muffled crowd can be heard and then re-appears shows the sense of freedom and fun that Bjork and Nellee Hooper had when recording the album. I also love the way she pronounces ghettoblaster.

There Is More To Life Than This

Expectation Versus Disappointment

On the eve of the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805 Lord Nelson issued a message- 'England expects that every man will do his duty... and scrape through the group stage before a draining but ultimately hopeless exit in the first knock out round against the first good team we play'. I paraphrase but it was something like that. 'Reaching the knock out round would actually be a bonus given the woeful state of our performances and results at the World Cup in Brazil' muttered Hardy to no-one in particular. So, come on boys, give us something to get cheerful about tonight against the Russians. A goal or two would be lovely.

Our other 'boys', the sunburnt travelling supporters, are covering themselves in glory, spending their evenings in Marseilles drinking their body weight in lager, taking their shirts off, dodging tear gas, battling the French riot police and attempting to take on Isis in one-on-one combat. FFS. The summer sport of hurling plastic furniture across foreign squares is one of the key features of an England campaign. Add this to the Brexit campaign and you have to assume Europe will be only too glad to see the back of us.

Another group of Englishmen battling crushing disappointment released their second new song at midnight on Thursday. After All For One things could only get better and thankfully with Beautiful Thing they have- the highlights of the seven minutes are Reni's gold medal funky drumming and John Squire's guitar playing, the return of the wah-wah and some nice phasing too. The guitar break at around four minutes is the definition of both fluid and liquid and the solo in the fifth minute with some backwards parts is great too. Ian's lyrics are streets ahead of the Dogtanian nonsense on All For One, with references to crucifixion, sisters, living as one and some vague threats to vampires. It's nothing especially new. I'm sure John, Reni and Mani can play this kind of thing in their sleep but it's a step forward for sure and will sound huge played live.

And The Question Is Answered

This is an updated version of Big Hard Excellent Fish's Imperfect List from a couple of years ago. The original came from the combined talents of Pete Wylie, Robin Guthrie and Josie Jones (and on the 1990 version Andrew Weatherall). The original list had range of targets from the late 80s and the re-worked list brings things up to date while also showing how little has changed.

Both versions mention Hillsborough. The justice the families of the 96 have been finally been given this week is truly right and proper. It also sadly confirms what many of us have known all along- that football fans in the late 80s were treated worse than cattle and seen as scum, that we were despised by an establishment that was engaged in something that was tantamount to class war and governed by a lying and corrupt government that colluded with a lying tabloid press that actually hated its readers, and that events were manipulated and covered up by at least one, probably two, corrupt police forces.

In 1989 I lived in Liverpool while at Liverpool University. I shared a house with a friend who was at Hillsborough, not the Leppings Lane End but another part of the ground. He returned home with both parts of his ticket- no one checked him into the ground. The Saturday after the disaster we were in Liverpool city centre. At six minutes past three the city centre stopped in absolute silence. Nothing moved and nobody spoke. It was one of the most moving, emotional minutes I've witnessed. As a Man United fan I've always felt deeply ashamed by the songs some of 'our' idiots sing and the heart of the matter is while it happened to be Liverpool fans who were unlawfully killed at Hillsborough in 1989, it could have been any of us, at another match, in another ground. Yes- this is justice for the 96 and for their families. But it is also justice for all of us.

Remember- don't buy The Sun.

Mellow

A few weeks ago in July Mark (who runs Cooking Up A Quiet Storm, as series of mixtapes provided by a variety of bloggers) asked for suggestions for a collective effort, a summer mixtape, inspired by the picture above. It dropped, as the young folk say, while I was in France. It is expertly sequenced by Mark.

Mellow My Mind - Compiled by the Quiet Storm Family by Cooking Up A Quiet Storm on Mixcloud

My suggestion was a song I posted several months ago and remains one of my favourite tunes of the year, Mono Life's stunning remix of Sunrise by Humberside band Pearl's Cab Ride, and it occupies the last ten minutes of the mix. Before that you'll find a bunch of mellow summer sounds including Goldfrapp, Laura Nyro, Frank Sinatra, Peggy Lee and Antonio Carlos Jobim. If the sun's out round your way, dig in.

The campsite we stayed on in the Jura was massively popular with the Dutch. I'd estimate that 80% of the campers (tents, motorhomes) were from the Netherlands. The remainder were Belgian or French with a handful of Brits. There were Dutch kids everywhere, at least half of them wearing football shirts. The parents, most of whom spoke perfect English, would talk to us about football. Football is an international language, a way in to talk to complete strangers in the sun. They love English football- a Belgian chap from Antwerp a few tents up from us wanted to know about how his countrymen Marouanne Fellaini and Adnan Januzai are seen by us Manchester United fans. His neighbour was a Dutchman who wanted our opinion on Louis van Gaal and Robin van Persie. I mentioned to him that as far as I could see the Dutch kids were mainly wearing, in descending order,  the shirts of Bayern Munich, Barca, Paris St Germain and Ajaz a lowly fourth. He became quite animated. 'I'm a Feyenoord fan' he said. 'These kids only follow Munich because of Arjen Robben. As far as I'm concerned if they wear a Bayern shirt, kick 'em off the campsite. If they wear an Ajax shirt, kick 'em off the campsite'. I don't think he was joking either. I got the feeling he may have been a fairly rabid Feyenoord fan as a younger man. He explained that in Holland the fans of all the clubs that aren't Ajax get on quite well- they are united in their mutual loathing of Ajax. Our neighbour for our last two nights was also Dutch. He said the reason they love English football is because 'it's not for cissies'. Our players get kicked and get up again, unlike in Spain, Italy and France. For the record English football shirts were few and far between- in amongst all the Bayern, Barca, PSG and Ajax shirts I spotted one Arsenal jersey (worn by a French boy obvs), a Chelsea shirt and, ugh, two Man City jerseys.

Last Rose Of Summer

Yesterday was lovely, largely. The sun shone all day, in the morning I had a great cycle ride round High Legh and through Tatton Park. Later on we wandered round Knutsford town centre, poking around a few pricey antique shops, went for a cup of tea and some cake, sat in the sun for a bit. Some idiots* in Leicester town centre spoilt it a little but you can't have everything. The late September sun was making me wonder whether this would be the last really nice day of the year, as a sunny day at this time of year always does.

Then this song was linked to somewhere by someone- Last Rose Of Summer by North Lanarkshire's Delgados. A beautiful, fragile and quietly-noisy song. The Delgados made a bunch of fine records and were named after Pedro Delgado, Tour De France winner in 1988 and the 1985 and 89 Vueltas. No bandwidth so no download. This was from a Peel Session.




* Those idiots would be, in no particular order 1) Referee Mark Clattenburg 2) United's panicky, under equipped defence 3) Leicester's thug-in-chief Vardy 4) Dutch 'genius' Louis van Gaal who has splurged £160 million quid without noticing we have a somewhat leaky back four.

What Is The Dream? To Live Like They Do In The Movies?

This is Kosmo Vinyl. According to Wikipedia his occupation is 'talent manager'. He joined The Clash's team in 1979/80, when Bernie Rhodes stepped back in to manage the band. Kosmo was spokesman, road manager, fixer, mouthpiece and all round aide-de-camp to the Strummer, Jones, Simonon and Headon as they went about breaking into the USA. He introduced them on stage and is heard on the Live At Shea Stadium album, supporting the Who in 1982. Before working with The Clash he was involved with Ian Dury and The Jam.

Kosmo contributed a vocal performance to the song Red Angel Dragnet, on Combat Rock. Paul Simonon takes the lead vocal on Red Angel Dragnet, speaking/shouting about a trip through New York City at night. Kosmo adds some lines from Taxi Driver, that famous psychotic stuff from Travis Bickle about how 'some day a real rain will come and wash all the scum off the streets'. Paul's descent into late night madness, over a jerky, funky backing, then goes free association (presumably with input or written wholesale by Strummer), loads of memorable lines about champagne on ice, Alcatraz, woman afraid to walk through the park at night, the Guardian Angels, the dream of living like they do in the movies, hands up for Hollywood, saving the girl, who shot the shot that shot the cop that made him drop? Silly stuff but highly enjoyable. This version is from the Rat Patrol From Fort Bragg bootleg, a rougher mix with organ to the fore, slightly different vocals and ending, and without Glyn Johns' later FM sheen.

Red Angel Dragnet (early version)

Kosmo (real name Mark Dunk) married an American and has lived in the States ever since. His current occupation is managing a large New York apartment block. A West Ham United fan in exile, 3474 miles from Upton Park, he spent the 2011/12 football season producing a pop-art influenced collage of the result of every game the Hammers played that season and then posting them on his blog Is Saitch Yer Daddy? He's been at it ever since. They were exhibited in London last year- something I only found out about a couple of weeks ago while looking for something else on the net. Here are a couple, the first one with my team beating his 1-0 at Old Trafford. No guarantees that will happen this season.

Brazil One

Yay! The World Cup kicks off today, all the way from Brazil. Nothing the current art department produce gets anywhere near the poster that advertised the 1950 tournament (also in Brazil) but never mind. We may also have to ignore a) FIFA's absolute corruption b) protests from the locals about the cost c) the poverty in the favelas just a stone's throw from the stadia d) the likelihood that England will be knocked out by the end of the group stage; then we may be able to enjoy a festival of football. Tonight, Brazil versus Croatia.

From 1968, Brazil's own psychedelic protest group and the mind blowingly good Os Mutantes. Just listen to that fuzz guitar and that tropicalia backing.

A Minha Menina

Upon Westminster Bridge

Upon Westminster Bridge is a poem by William Wordsworth. In said poem he did not ponder a difficult decision to be made regarding Motley Crue. Nigel Blackwell did, in the Half Man Half Biscuit song of the same name. In the HMHB song we also get a new version of The Twelve Days Of Christmas sandwiched in...

'Spoiling Good Friday my ex-love sent to me
Twelve drummers singing
Eleven chairmen dancing
Ten mascots whinging
Nine stewards flapping
Eight christening invites
Seven cows a-barking
Six vicars strumming
Nick fucking Knowles
Four boring words
Carphone Warehouse and Matalan
And a pulled up at Bangor-on-Dee'

Nick fucking Knowles. Merry Christmas.

The song has many, many other delights- dry stone wallcharts, Ken Hom wok sets, iron age hill forts, low cost school trips, Ladbrokes and the return to earth of Jesus Christ and the resulting use of No Need For Nails. It is almost the quintessential Half Man Half Biscuit Song.

Upon Westminster Bridge

The other alternative version of The Twelve Days Of Christmas familiar in this household is The Twelve Days Of Cantona (the only modern footballer that really mattered).

Are you a farmer?

At this time of year, during duller passages of play, a romp through the whole song is always entertaining at the match. 'On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me an Eric Cantona' and so on...

'Five Cantonaaaaaaas
Four Cantonas
Three Cantonas
Two Cantonas
And an Eric Cantona'

Dull is the game that goes all the way up to twelve.

I finish work for the Christmas holidays today. Halle-fucking-lujah.

Brain Machine

 In recent years Primal Scream have taken to playing the two versions of Come Together together live, Come Together coming together. Opening with the Weatherall remix and then going into the Farley one.



There was a lesser known third remix of Come Together by Hypnotone (a Creation dance act who made the ace Dream Beam single), released as a white label and on the 1991 Keeping the Faith compilation. The Hypnotone remix is far noisier and ravier, more chaotic with distorted synths and shouty vocal samples. Love it. What Bobby and the band need to do now is work this version into the live show and stretch Come Together out even further, three comings together for the price of one.

Come Together (Hypnotone Brain Machine Remix)

In a handy piece of internet synchronicity Daniel Avery has just remixed the song for BT Sport, who are showing matches live from the new football season (irritatingly called the EPL by some numpties, otherwise known as 'the greatest league ever in the history of football'). There's a 25 second clip below which obviously is of little use to man or dog but longer and different versions apparently do exist.

Diego

I love this picture of Diego Maradona in his Boca Juniors shirt and carpet slippers. I saw Diego Maradona play once. In the 1983-4 season United drew Barcelona in the quarter-finals of the European Cup Winner's Cup. Away in the first leg United came home two-nil  down, centre back Graham Hogg diverting the ball into his own net right at the end of the game. Two weeks later Barca came to Old Trafford for a match that still stands out for me as the best game I've ever attended. We didn't have much hope of going through. Two-nil down,a Barca away goal would finish us. As well as Maradona, then ascending to 'best player in the world' status, they had mop-haired midfield maestro Bernd Schuster in their side as well. Old Trafford was crammed to the rafters, Maradona barely got a kick and Frank Stapleton and Bryan Robson scored the three goals that sent us through to the semis (a tie against Juventus, who had a team containing Boniek, Platini and Rossi amongst others. Another amazing night at the football, from when European nights were a rarity rather than an expectation). Robson left the pitch on the shoulders of the thousands of fans who poured onto the pitch at the final whistle. Not me, as my brother frequently reminds me. I didn't want to get clobbered by a copper. At the Juventus game a copper threatened to break my arm if I tried to walk down a certain gangway again. Friendly chaps the GMP.

None of which has anything to do with this song I found recently. It's one of those deeply clubby chuggers, Love From Outer Space style jobs. Very good. May wear the carpet out if played late at night in subdued lighting through some decent speakers. Headman featuring Scott Fraser and Douglas McCarthy remixed by Hardway Bros.

SAF

I was 16 years old when Alex Ferguson arrived at Manchester United. I'm 43 in eleven days time. He's managed the club I support all my adult life. What's more I was a regular at Old Trafford throughout the Ron Atkinson years and Ferguson's early days and remember what it was like before we were 'the biggest football club in the world' TM. It seems inconceivable that he won't be there. But then again, let's not get carried away- no one's died, it's only a game. Nothing lasts forever.

What digs at me though is that without him there (and soon the last of the old guard- Giggs, Scholes- will be gone too) is that within three years United will be just another rich, big club playing the Euromoneyball, three year cycle, managerial-merry-go-round, the same as all the rest. I know some of you won't give a fuck either way. I know that for some of you there are less rewarding ways to spend money watching football (hello Airdrie, hello York City). Although maybe that isn't less rewarding- I dunno. Yes, we have been spoilt. Yes, it is all over now. Let's see what happens next.

NB Please, please, please, don't let it be Mourinho. 

B Is For Black Affair

Steve Mason's 2009 side project Black Affair was an 80s electro inspired job, which was great in small doses but wore a bit over the course of an entire lp. Still, in a field of his own is Steve Mason- most people wouldn't record let alone release an album like this, so far removed from what he's known for. This was one of the highlights.

Sweet

In a slightly belated tribute to United's 20th league title our picture shows Bobby Charlton, presumably in the aftermath of the Munich air disaster or an early anniversary of, with a cracking quiff. Bobby was present as a player for United's 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th league titles and he's still there, although he doesn't make the netting bulge anymore. The Premier League is a million miles from this picture. Yesterday's post-Beta Band group The Aliens had a song called Bobby's Song which I should've posted instead really.