The art of quitting.

The art of quitting can be something beautiful
and mysterious if you just go with it.
When you sit back in a chair with the curtains
closed and a blank television screen and just
give it, it feels a alot better than getting up
and giving a shit.

It’s a rare thing to do, it doesn’t come about
alot but when it does just embrace it for a
while and quit.
When you see a man in a car screaming a the
traffic all he has to do is quit and give up
it would be the best thing he would do that
day, the traffic wouldn’t matter because all he
needs to do is sit back and go “fuck it” and smile
and relax and let the world go by.

Thanks to celebrity the art of quitting is
become a dying breed but now is the time to
get it back into the main stream culture.
Or not, depends on how you feel.


The line.

The line getting into the gig turns into complete chaos.
A long haired metal head dude with a tattoo on
his face of a small bird has decided to make his way
to the front, pushing and shoving his way through the
line, and that turns all the other metal heads, grungers
and just general rockers and gig goers into a ten minute
mumble fest.

All i can hear from the back to the front, from one
side to the other is the grumbles of complaints about
the man who shoved his way to the front.
The bouncer stops him asking him for his I.D when
a girl from the back shouts “HE PUSHED HIS WAY
TO THE FRONT” and then everyone in the line
joins in and the bouncer asks him to leave the
que and either head to the back or walk away.
The man doesn’t say a thing and he just walks off
around the corner and behind the venue and the line
moves forward.

Inside the venue the man from the line is standing on
the stage with his guitar waiting for the sound guy
to tune him in so he can play his gig, his eyes are
red and he has a bored look on his face like he wants
to go home.
Everyone from the line ouside who see’s him doesnt
say anything about it, they just go off upto he bar
or into a corner mumbling to themselves.

Cut head in a mosh pit.

The gig is now over, everything hurts from
the neck down. My age might be finally
catching up with me.
I finish off my JD and along with everyone
else i make my way towards the toilet which
is a like a small ritual to seasoned gig
Standing at the cubicle looking at the walls
of bands i’ve never heard of advertising gigs,
merchandise and upcoming tours, posters from gigs
months ago, a blues band adveritising their
annual christmas gig in the middle of Febuary
with the date christmas 2014 is still on the wall
about the sink.

I hear abit of comotion behind me, so i turn
around to a quick peak at whats going on and a
group small group have gathered around a man half
their size and they’re holding a damp cloth on
his head.
“What the hell happened, son?” one of them says
“It was the mosh, the fucking mosh pit” the small man
says barely getting the drunk slurred words out
“I must have of duckin’ hit someone elses head during
the last bluddy song”
and thats when i notice blood going down the
back of his white t-shirt as i wash my hands.

I leave the toilet leaving the group of men
to clean the blood of the guys head and i exit
the venue wondering what happened and
who the man hit his head on.
As i walk away looking for the nearest pub
i see a long haired metal head sitting on the side
of the road with his friends holding
his forehead complaining of a sharp pain
above his eyes.

The music goes off….

I’m sitting at the back of the pub when the music
goes off, and the dance floor descends into total chaos,
a full on brawl.
The place has only been open an hour, I’ve only had
two drinks and a riot has broken out, it’s a 7 on 7
free for all, chairs are flying over head.
Glasses, Bottles, Shoes are being tossed around
at all angles and it’s slowly making it’s way to my
table where I’m sitting by myself with a Jack Daniel’s
and Coke and I’m a reading a news story on my

The 7 on 7 aspiring alcoholics, punching, kicking,
choking, glassing and chairing each other get closer and
closer to my table, so I down my drink and close
down my phone ready to make my way towards
the exit to find a new pub.
Thats when the police rush in, I can’t count how many of
them there are but it’s enough to hold off any
unwanted hooligan with a pint of carling in his
hand ready to smash someone’s face in.

They drag them out of the pub and into cars
and riot vans and that’s when I decide to leave
the place.
I look around at the carnage as i walk towards the door
and i see that the bar staff are on the floor somehow,
I never even noticed them getting involved, the chair
throwing and the glassing’s took me away from everything
else that was happening around the place.

So I leave and walking down the street I can hear
the sirens in the distance taking away the brawlers and
crazies and people walking beside me asking questions about
what has happened.
People i recognise that were in the pub are talking and
laughing about what they have just seen, typing on their
phones about the choas.
Then I find an irish pub and walk through the doors
and it’s empty…..

Christmas band.

I turn towards the clocktower in
the centre of the city and i see a christmas
brass band playing classic chrismas carols.
Small children stand by them with red
hats and red ribbons around their arm
and holding a red bucket in their hands.

Poeple stand around them in the freezing
cold holding bags full christmas presents
in one hand and a child in the next, and they
stand patiently waiting for the next song
to be played so they can put the money
in the bucket and run towards their cars
and go home to the warmth.

Drunk men gather around the band and
singalong and dance to the music and chant
like it”s half time at the football and im just
waiting for one of them to pull out a drum
of their own and join in with the band.

Some poeple walk on by like it doesn’t
exsist while others take notice at the music
and others look on in confusion at something
that might be interupting their shop.
I drop some change in one the buckets before
I carry on walking around and leave the football
chants and the brass band playing along

Middle of the afternoon

In the middle of the afternoon on the highstreet
and it’s raining and there’s a strong breeze blowing
my jacket behind me.
Poeple around me walking with umbrellas folded
up, business men with rain macks running for
shelter and mums dragging their childrens behind
and straight into a clothes store and out of the
crappy weather.

A bike comes speeding by me holding leather
hand bag in one hand and a can of Monster
in the other, he rides through a puddle and splashes
me in the face as he speeds on by.

a woman screams behind me as i carry on walking
but i don’t pay any attention and i just carry on
like nothing happens and two young girls run past
me and then stop on the corner with their hands
on their heads as i turn into the pub.

Small tales: The Pogues

Sitting in a pub when you’re 10 years old with a packet of salt and vinegar crisps and a bottle of panda pop with your mum and your uncles and hearing music in the background that you don’t completely undertsand yet, only what they’ve explained in drunken language, it can really get your mind turning in ways you can never imagine.
I can’t remember exactly when I heard The Pogues for the first time but of course it was in a pub, where else could it be? I remember seeing my mum and uncles putting down pints of beer and hearing this crazy Irish music in the background and someone shouting at the barman in an Irish accent “Put that fucking Pogues on” and on comes the Irish rover and my mum says “yes” under her breath and puts her hand into the air and then starts tapping the beer mat on the table.
Every year from then on, especially around Christmas that famous song “Fairytale” is memorialised through re-releases and music t.v  and re plays on Top Of The Pops classics but if this was any other song it would be watered down and put back on the shelves of history and only talked about on documentaries with interviews with celebrities all saying “do you remember that song?” But not for this song, it’s a little bit different and nostalgic for people and they still love to hear it.
The song became their staple song with the voice of Shane and Kirsty and Spiders tin whistle and the lyrics it’s the song people want to hear being played and it’s constantly in the all time greatest Christmas song lists, but I don’t think that’s fair when you find yourself listening to the rest of the bands music.
Through the years of being a teenager listening to indie, punk and my old favourites of classic rock, the Pogues continued to stand out as a band I want to see so I took my time over the next couple of years shifting my way through their record collection and discovering songs that no body who’s heard of the band would have know.

Over the next couple of years I found out everything I could about this crazy front man Shane MacGowan and the music that influenced him, The Dubliners and The Clancy Brothers to name a few where some of the artists he grew up with and I would have to make sure I saved time when I wasn’t playing in bands myself to listening to these bands.
At one point I even became a little bit obsessed with trying to find every documentary made about the man or the band.
I remember a documentary produced by the BBC about the recording of the song Fairytale of New York and I made sure that I recorded it for future reference.
YouTube became very helpful, all I needed to do was type in Shanes name and an interview or a documentary would pop up and I would be glued to the computer screen for the next couple of hours and they all became a repeat viewing, especially when I was unemployed and even today I sometimes find my self re-watching them.
Whenever I mentioned The Pogues to anyone, or even the bands that influenced Shane himself, nobody took time to discover them for themselves, or bothered to even listen to them but at this point I didn’t really care, I’ve found the band that i’ll be listening to until I can’t get out of bed anymore.
Shane took on abit of a personality and his image stood out amongst people, the image of being a drunk and waste of talent, he’s rotten teeth and the guy who should have been dead by the time he was 40 but I slowly come to realise that he’s a poet and that nobody really knows that he’s a poet, for a lot of people he’s just a drunk frontman of a band who wrote a Christmas song that everyone loves, a song that helps you get into the spirit of the season and get over the struggle of it all, but the band and his writing are more than that, it’s poetry and mayhem on stage when they play live, it’s something you can truly get behind and Shane and the rest of the band have never taken on that thing of being “cool” and something for hipsters to follow.

I bought The Pogues live in Paris and I said to myself I’m going to save this for a special night, so I saved it for New Years Eve.
While everyone went out I decided to stay home with a bottle of whiskey and watch the performance and even my mum decided to join me and both of us sat and watched the band play a set with all the mayhem and the craziness the band became known for and when it finished we looked at the bottle and realised we had finished it but my mum remembered she had one hidden away in her cupboard so she got up and got the booze. When she came back we decided to restart the show and make our way through the second bottle of whiskey.
We stayed up till three in the morning watching the DVD, we missed the new year countdown and my dad had gone to bed leaving us both to get drunk.
The next morning we both said we’ll have to do that again next yet, sit up till 3 and get drunk watching the Pogues.
So every year it’s been a tradition, whether I’m at home or not I’ve managed to find a time around new year to watch The Pogues live In Paris, I don’t know if it’s the best performance they had because I was never there in the 80’s when they were at their peak but it’s the one I’ll always remember and it will be the first one I talk about if someone asks me about the Pogues live.

I think we’ve seen the last of the Pogues live, Shane doing his thing with his new set of teeth, the guitarist and one of the lyricist of the band Phil Chevron passed away of cancer not to long ago.
The bands days look to be over, but that’s ok, when I look back at the first time I heard them to discovering the albums and the live performances what more can I ask for from a band and I hope that people can go out of their way and find the band for themselves and experience what I’ve experienced over the years.
I could go into depth about the band and the man who fronted them for 30 years, from the Nipple Erectors to the new Republicans, from Shane’s punk years and the day he had his “ear” bitten off. Maybe I will go in depth one day about the Pogues and maybe one day I can sit and have a quick pint with the man himself and maybe have a chat with Andrew Ranken about the drums, but for now i’ll leave it here. I’m going for a pint.

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