Women

What Woman Really Want

by Enormous on March 9, 2010

I was accosted by not one but two annoying men this morning.

First, punk drummer Sonny Starr who is so thick that light actually bends around him rang about eight o’clock this morning pleading for some ‘emergency studio time’. Apparently, his band Vince World and the Powertoys whose songs about ‘hot chicks’ with long legs and large ‘Zeppelins’ have been attracting some industry attention lately. I don’t believe for one minute that any record company would ever sign his awful band but according to Sonny ‘somebody massive’ is showing some interest. There again, like a lot of musicians, he is always telling stories without being unduly burdened by veracity.

‘You’re not using the studio,’ I repeated. ‘You’ll have to record your emergency demos somewhere else.’

‘No offence, Davy, but you are a bastard,’ he hissed over the phone.

He’s probably right on that one.

I have just about had it up to here, however, with bands and their songs that not only objectify women, but often belittle and demean them, too.

Next, while Audrey and I were running home over the rec’ to get out of the rain, Nigel-the-dickhead came bounding up to us to tell us what a wonderful night everyone had had in the pub celebrating the return of his wife. ‘She’s not lesbo any more,’ he proudly informed me. ‘Just couldn’t live without me.’

‘Did she realise what she was missing, Nige?’ I asked, tongue firmly in my cheek.

‘Of course. You see, unlike you, Dave . . . ‘

‘Davy.’

‘ . . . unlike you, I know how to treat a woman. I know exactly what they want. Dave.’

I can’t help thinking his errant wife must have had an ulterior motive for going back to him. Something to do with money, no doubt. Or am I being cynical? I simply don’t think any member of the female sex would ever find that tedious man with greasy hair and a face like a bag of frogs – ugly frogs – attractive in any way whatsoever. But that’s just me.

Once again I had been forced to spend a wonderfully edifying few moments being lectured at by Nigel on the subject of women and their desires. I was so happy.

When I got home all my teeth fell out.

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Telling Teenage Fortunes

by Enormous on December 4, 2009

No.54

You will spill a pint of lager over someone you are trying to chat up.

Later, she will tell you that she thinks you are ‘really sweet’ but that she doesn’t want a ‘serious-type of relationship kind-of-thing.’

This is what you will tell her: ‘So do I, neither. How about a quick shag?’

You will be slapped hard in the face for the first time in your life. It will hurt.

You will begin to doubt the credibility of the ironic comment. (Especially where women are concerned.)

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Babysitter Bassist Baby Issue

by Enormous on October 15, 2009

I was chatting to Walt, bassist with indie band The Babysitters yesterday. I have been trying to poach him for a few weeks now, using all my powers of manly seduction. I think Walt is a thoroughly agreeable chap and a very good musician – the kind of very good musician that would fit right into place in the Enormous line-up.

He has said before that he would love to join the band, but, apart from his duties with the Babysitters, he was telling me that his wife is due to give birth soon and that he would not really have the time or the energy to properly commit to Enormous. Stupid women. Stupid babies. What happened to rock ‘n’ roll?

Aside from his skills on the bass guitar, Walt is a clever and very witty man. I mentioned this to him during our conversation.

‘Yeah, bass players are traditionally regarded as being even dumber than drummers, aren’t they.’

‘That’s true, Walt,’ I told him. ‘And drummers, by definition, apart from being incredibly stupid, are also very, very annoying. All of them.’ I then remembered an old muso joke: ‘Hey, Walt, what did the bass player get on his IQ test?’

‘Tell me, Davy.’

‘Dribble.’

‘Ha, ha.’ Then he outdid me. ‘Here’s one for you that demonstrates the point even better.’

‘Go on, then.’

‘Did you hear about the drummer who arrived at the gig only to discover he had locked his keys in his car? It took him an hour to get the bass player out.’

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All Fall Down

by Enormous on October 6, 2009

The woman with the nasty big black Labrador was stalking us again this morning on the rec’.

I have never spoken to her but I find her rather irksome, to say the least. In fact, she annoys the hell out me – and Audrey. I firmly believe that certain people should not be allowed to own dogs, and she is one of them.

Hers is very large and aggressive. Due, no doubt, not to the animal’s fundamental nature, but to the woman’s lack of proper control over it. The Labrador is obviously a lot stronger than she is – despite her substantial weight – and is always in danger of breaking loose from her grip and advancing menacingly toward Audrey with resolute intentions of canine assault.

The problem is, instead of walking away from us, she stands her ground and waits for us to pass. She even does this if we turn and walk in the opposite direction: she will go the other way around the footpath until we inevitably encounter each other again. To me, this is madness; she is mentally ill. She is certainly a very obtuse individual. I think it would benefit everyone concerned if she were put down out of my misery.

Each time, as we draw near, she keeps up a teasingly hissed set of commands under her breath to the dog that rise in intensity and amplitude. ‘No, no . . . no . . . no . . . . . no . . . . .  no. . . . . . .’ Then as we move past, her voice rises to fever pitch: ‘No, Albert! No! NO! ALBERT! NO! ALBEEEERT!’

This is rather like telling the animal: ‘Wait, wait . . . get ready . . . get ready . . . . . . NOW! ATTACK! ATTACK!’ Excited beyond all bodily control, the dog is straining like a frothing monster, trying to break free and begin its violence.

This pantomime happened again today. But to make matters worse, on this occasion, Audrey pulled so hard on her lead that I slipped and fell on to the wet grass. I landed heavily on my hands and knees and was stunned for a moment. Rain-soaked blades of grass were dancing sarabands before my eyes.

When I stood up, the woman had gone and Reg was standing there in her place. ‘Where did you come from?’ I enquired of him breathlessly.

‘I was watching you, Davy-lad. With the bird.’

‘Bird?‘

‘She’s gorgeous, she is.’

‘That stupid woman?’

‘She might not be your type, Davy-boy, but she certainly boils my potatoes, if you know what I mean.’

‘Boils your potatoes?‘ My voice was getting a little high in pitch.

‘Oh, yeah.’ He enthused. ‘I’d fuck a wall if I thought she was behind it.’ An image sprung into my mind that I don’t thing I will ever be able to successfully erase.

‘Reg!‘

‘Sorry, Davy-me-lad, but that blondie is special. She’s lady-gold.’

I tried to speak and gasp at the same time but found it impossible.

‘Lost for words, eh, Davy?’

‘I am, rather. You amaze me, Reg, you really do.’

‘Oh, I know. It’s difficult to be amazed and speak at the same time, Davy-boy. That’s called multitasking. Men can’t do it. You need a woman for that.’

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Bloodline

by Enormous on August 17, 2009

Blood, or more specifically the passing of blood from one generation to the next, is central to the theme of my current album. I explained some months ago, when I outlined the album framework, the importance of the three women in my life.

Three pieces underpin the tone of the album reflecting the three women that always were and always will be, literally, my life. Each piece will flow either to or from, directly or indirectly, one of these three roots.

And blood is the one thing that binds them all together.

My mother, my wife, and my daughter.

My blood.

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Agony Uncle

by Enormous on June 25, 2009

‘Why the long face, Davy?’

‘Oh, good morning, Reg.’

‘Don’t tell me, you went out in the village with young Nelson over the weekend, got drunk, got some bird pregnant; got a heart full of regrets and a head full of hangover. I’m right, aren’t I? Tell me I’m not wrong.’

‘You’re not wrong. I mean you are wrong. I was just thinking about – ‘

‘You young lads these days, you have no respect for women any more. Not like in my day – we knew how to treat a woman, we did. Like a lady. Always treat a woman like a lady, Davy.’

‘Reg, I was just – ‘

‘I was treating women like ladies while you were still in short trousers. Before that, even – while you were still a bubble in your dad’s beer, actually. I know what I’m on about, me, when it comes to the female sex. Sex in general, actually.’

‘Reg, have you had your medication this morning?’

‘What medication?’

‘Nothing. Thanks for the advice. About women.’

‘Don’t mention it, Davy. As I say, I am something of an expert on the subject, and I do like to share my experience and knowledge with others. Now, tell your Uncle Reginald why you look so down in the dumps.’

‘I’m fed up with my pathetically bad business skills, Reg. While my brother was here over the weekend – apart from drinking too much again, I managed to turn down two bands who wanted to book the studio. I keep turning bookings away, trying to get the new Enormous album finished. I just can’t seem to find enough hours in the day. I should have taken the bookings. My finances are in a terrible state.’

‘Who were the bands?’

‘You wouldn’t have heard of them.’

‘Who were they?’

‘Progression, a jazz-rock band from Derby, and This Machine, heavy-metal four-piece from Coventry.’

‘Hmm . . . jazz-rock, you say? Heavy-metal, you say? Coventry, you say?’

‘That’s right.’

‘There is nothing wrong with your business skills, Davy – or your taste and integrity.’

Thanks, Reg.’

‘One thing, though . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘Finish your bloody album!’

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Three

by Enormous on May 29, 2009

The framework of the album is now complete. Three pieces underpin the tone of the album reflecting the three women that always were and always will be, literally, my life. Each piece will flow either to or from, directly or indirectly, one of these three roots.

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