Saturday, June 27, 2015

“Hey Grandpa, thank you for getting up and having a dance with me, I love that old folk song “American Pie” and I love that you can still get on the dance floor at 92 years of age and strut your funky stuff”
“Well son, I am delighted to still be here and to be able to shake my walking sticks in time to the groove”
“The guy in the song sings about ’the day the music died’ and it makes me sad. Was this something that happened in the Great Spotify War Grandpa?”
“Nope, but your history lessons have paid off because it was pretty damn close.”
“Who got hurt Grandpa?”
“Well son, there was no blood spilled and no battle casualties but it was definitely the day the music died.” A juvenile tear formed in the corner of the old man’s eye.
“What’sapp Grandpa, why are you upset?”
“Well son, the music died on the 27th June 2015 and I was watching it live on the old television on the what used to be the BBC but what you know as McNando’s, It was a sight I will never forget.”
“Was that when Elvis died…”
“No son, your history is wrong……”
“Was it the day they found the poet laureate Doherty dead in a skip with a needle in his arm?”
“No son, it was Kanye West headlining at Glastonbury Festival”
“Is that related to the McGlastonBud festival?”
“No…Well yeah, whatever, don’t side-track me son my attention span is as short as it gets. It was a guy called Kanye West.
“I know Kanye West as a resort in Qatar?”
“Yeah, same guy, different brand, this was Kanye when he was a pup.”
“You mean Senator Kanye? Ok, I’m on it, just there are so many Kanyes these days it’s hard to keep track. So how did Senator Kanye kill the music Grandpa?”
“Well, back then, he had a cunt hair of talent stretched to it’s absolute limits, for me it was thinner than a silver Rizla, you even know what a Rizla is boy? Anyway, I thought he was dogshit but the people kinda like him. He shacked up with a lawyers daughter who had a big fucking ass and they were a good team for a while”
“ You mean Kim”
“Yeah, that’s the one. I used to call her Dim Kardashian but she was sharper than a tack when it came to pennies and big asses.”
“So Gramps, how did Kanye kill music”
“Well son, I will cut a very long and very fucking boring story short by saying have a Visagoogle at it and you will probably find it in the McArchive. He pitched up at Glastonbury as a headliner on Saturday.”
“He must have been some hot shit to get that slot Gramps?”
“Well son, he was half of that”
“Tell me the whole story please. I love music and I would love to know who killed it before it became good again”
“Well son, I guess you are of child-bearing age now. At 12 years of age you deserve to know the truth. What I am about to tell you is only for the privileged few. This ain’t for the phone people or the tablet people, they are too far gone, they will never be brought back from the brink but you are still young and fresh and I think you deserve a good shot.”
“Do you want a whisky Gramps? If I get you a whisky will you tell me?”
“Go ‘ead then”
The youngster headed towards the bar and towards the 13 year olds who could buy his Grandad a whisky by proxy.
The ice chimed the crystal glass as it hit the table and the young lad beamed at his elder.
“They only had McJameson’s., everyone has been battering the McGlenfiddich and the Esso so it was all they had.”
“That will do for me, as long as it’s not that McFrack shite that is popular these days. So you want to know the truth son? Are you ready for it? Can you handle the truth of how one talentless bell whiff destroyed modern music with his fat-assed no talent wife?”
“I’m waiting?” (We’re all fucking waitin’. Editor)
“People laughed, people cried, social media went into meltdown when this wanksplash was announced as the headline act for Glasto. That’s what the hipsters called it back then. Made the place sound less like fucking Aylesbury, you can see the angle. Anyway, this guy shows up and does his thing. I didn’t like his thing, a lot of people don’t but a certain type dialled into this bullshit. He used to shout “Wo-oh” and “yeah” and the shit in the middle was nonsense but the people kinda liked it. Then he got too big for his small ass boots, dissed Taylor Swift during the Grammys when he was higher that Virgin Galactic, but the sad thing was he believed his own hype. He thought he was a God, more powerful than the Gods themselves. But, God had more than a DJ and a moving lighting rig. I had seen that moving lighting rig shit back in ’85 with Frankie Goes To Hollywood.
So, he comes on, in camouflage gear like he’s in some fucking war when the only stress he ever had was standing in a queue at the Prada shop waiting to buy his big ass wife a handbag. After he plays his ‘hits’ he gives a shout out to the ‘musician’ behind him and credits him with playing ‘drum machine? Drum machine ain’t no job. Drum machine ain’t no writer or musician. He’s a cunt in headphones on minimum wage!!!”
“Language Gramps, Grandma don’t like the C bomb, behave yourself.”
“I’m sorry son. I guess it’s like all the veterans say “You weren’t fuckin’ there man!!!’”
“How bad was it?”
“Son, I won’t live long enough to tell ya. After the performance the camera cut to Jo Wiley and even she was undecided”
“Dame Wiley??”
“The very same!!! She didn’t know whether to have a shit, shave or haircut”
“Sometimes Gramps, I am glad I was born when I was and didn’t have to see it for myself”
“Well son, when you’re 21 I will tell you about the Stock, Aitken & Waterman years”