Two months ago I saw a band which should not exist anymore.

 

Hoodoo Gurus.

 

Yup, just like The Triffids albums, Stoneage Romeos has been re-released. And they were supporting their album by going on tour again. “I Want You Back“, “Lelani” or “Tojo” anyone?

 

Though no wasted talent a la David McComb has died, so no press coverage at all over here for a reunion tour. No blue plaque ordination either. Despite the fact that good old John Peel tried to push them in the olden days, just like he did with The Triffids.

 

Oh, memories, oh days long gone, never to come back, ever again. Oh, 1985, the Year of The Triffids. And Hoodoo Gurus.

 

Anyway, back to to the here and now, the future even maybe.

 

I heard for the first time that Snow Patrol song, “Shut Your Eyes (and sing to me)” last night on a dance floor. Couldn’t keep quiet about it today and tried to convert the young’ns, with little success. But then again, I was still pissed.

 

Jesus, I need to grow up.

 

The type of song I would love to write for A. or rather for myself, of course.

 

Jesus, I need to grow up. Quickly.

 

Incidentally, Snow Patrol come from Bangor, NI, and apparently one of its members is related to Roisin, that gorgeous (dyed) red, long and curled-haired girl I cheated on Lauren, my ex-girlfriend with in Lyon.

 

And Newcastle. And Bangor. And Belfast. And Manchester … (while I was staying at Lauren’s)

 

…

 

And whom my parents so liked when they met her in Lyon. She was so so very, very pretty and took her drink like Bukowski could only dream of.

 

A cousin or something. Well, so Roisin tells me. 

 

On one of my trips when I visited her, Roisin’s mum told me never to give instructions to a taxi driver in Belfast as an IRA associated-taxi driver would wrongly think i was English.

 

Coz of me accent.

 

They were Catholics living in Protestant Bangor where they had an annual celebration which involved burning a wooden doll representing the pope. Their house got pelted now and then with eggs, tomatoes, bullets and no doubt kebabs.

 

Now, I have a strong foreign accent, and Roisin’s grandma lived on Fall’s Road and I am raised Catholic so I took it as a challenge, so once under the influence of alcohol, I gave it large, big time, the moment i got into a taxi, death wish … shattered knee-cap-wish … bullet-in-both-elbows-wish … being immature and all, so much to Roisin’s annoyance.

 

The moron was me. Her uncle was executed in the troubles as the English typically cowardly call it.

 

Anyway, Lauren and me, Roisin and me, Belfast and Bangor was 1999, how things have changed over there. Paisley as a NI Prime Minister?  The IRA happy with that? I rest my case.

 

Apart from the kebabs which are still being generously but now also gently deposited in Roisins’ parents’ front garden rather than being aimed at their windows.

 

Anyone into Battles? Album of the year so far I reckon.

 

A couple of months ago, the last ever blank tape rolled off the manufacturing band, the end of an era kinda thing. No more tapes, cassettes. Like for ever. All digital now. Had to to really search for a cassette tape player (which I found on me car radio) to play Mr T’s copied tape of Hoodoo Gurus.

 

Couldn’t wait to see Hoodoo Gurus two months ago.

 

Jesus, I need to grow up. Instantly.