Jakiś czas temu zaczęliśmy na naszym blogu streszczać książkę Colina Sharpa o wielkim realizatorze nagrań i twórcy Manchester Sound, Martinie Hannettcie. Pierwsza część opisu dostępna jest TUTAJ, druga natomiast TUTAJ, a trzecia TUTAJ.
Dzisiaj kolej na garść faktów, przedstawioną przez Colina Sharpa w rozdziale 5, a ten rozpoczyna się od historii znajomości Martina z Johnem Coper Clarke (warto zobaczyć TUTAJ). To Tosh Ryan spotkał barda z Salford zupełnym przypadkiem na ulicy. Ten z nieznanych bliżej przyczyn, ubrany był w kostium królika. Opisał to doświadczenie w tekście piosenki Post War Glamour Girl. Poniżej przytaczamy ten fragment tekstu:
The section of the populace
They call the clientele
The moguls of metropolis
Defenestrate themselves
In the clothes of a rabbit
You develop a twitch
One of the little sisters of the rich
Amorous cameras clamour and click
Her rosary beads are really bones
Rebel rebel they bug your phone
The post war glamour girl's never alone
They call the clientele
The moguls of metropolis
Defenestrate themselves
In the clothes of a rabbit
You develop a twitch
One of the little sisters of the rich
Amorous cameras clamour and click
Her rosary beads are really bones
Rebel rebel they bug your phone
The post war glamour girl's never alone
Później Martin, który grał na jednym z koncertów w Manchesterze z Greasy Bear, napotkał Clarke gdy ten recytował swoje wiersze. Na scenie był tylko on i mikrofon... Calarke wspierał koncerty takich tuz jak Buzzcocks i Joy Division (o czym pisaliśmy).
Południowcy go nie akceptowali z powodu północnego poczucia humoru. Clarke był już wtedy dość znany i miał grupkę swoich fanów. Był niezłym odlotowcem, opowiadał historię swoich narodzin w którą uwikłane były króliki giganty i UFO i twierdził, że urodził się w porodzie pozamacicznym (sic!). Żył wtedy w jednym domu z innym poetą i z masą kotów.
Kiedy się zaprzyjaźnili z Martinem lubili wspólnie wymyślać historie o Clarke zwykle w kuchni Hannetta. Mieli obaj surrealistyczne poczucie humoru i głęboką akceptację dla absurdu.
Ich pierwsza współpraca na polu muzycznym dotyczyła epki Innocents.
Martin użył tutaj roztrojonych gitar i zdekonstruowanego automatu perkusyjnego, basu i dziwnych odgłosów. Brzmi to jakby było dźwiękowo niepoprawne, ale to był wtedy znak rozpoznawczy Hannetta, na wszystkich jego produkcjach. Martin wtedy też podczas nagrywania nagrywał osobno wszystkie instrumenty, co również stało się jego domeną.
Pierwszy album, jaki nagrali wspólnie, nazywał się Disguise in Love z 1978 roku. Stało się to projektem - kompromisem, między tekstami Johna, a muzycznymi eksperymentami Hannetta i Hopkinsa. Martin wraz z Invisible Girls najbardziej udzielał się w utworze Beasley Street, w którym John śpiewa o ulicach Manchesteru i UK w roku 1978. Na poniższym klipie widzimy Martina (siedzi i gra na basie) i Vini Reilly, który gra na gitarze, obaj wtedy udzielali się w the Invisible Girls.
Ta piosenka lepiej niż wiele innych oddaje smak, zapach i klimat północnego Manchesteru pod koniec lat 70-tych. Warto przytoczyć tekst:
Far from crazy pavements
The taste of silver spoons
A clinical arrangement
On a dirty afternoon
Where the fecal germs of Mr Freud
Are rendered obsolete
The legal term is "null and void"
In the case of Beasley Street
In the cheap seats where murder breeds
Somebody is out of breath
Sleep is a luxury they don't need
A sneak preview of death
Belladonna is your flower
Manslaughter your meat
Spend a year in a couple of hours
On the edge of Beasley Street
Where the action isn't
That's where it is
State your position
Vacancies exist
In an X-certificate exercise
Ex-servicemen excrete
Keith Joseph smiles and a baby dies
In a box on Beasley Street
From the boarding-houses and the bedsits
Full of accidents and fleas
Somebody gets it
Where the missing persons freeze
Wearing dead men's overcoats
You can't see their feet
A riff joint shuts, opens up
Right down on Beasley Street
Cars collide, colours clash
Disaster-movie stuff
For a man with a Fu Manchu moustache
Revenge is not enough
There's a dead canary on a swivel seat
There's a rainbow in the road
Meanwhile on Beasley Street
Silence is the code
Hot beneath the collar
An inspector calls
Where the perishing stink of squalor
Impregnates the walls
The rats have all got rickets
They spit through broken teeth
The name of the game is not cricket
Caught out on Beasley Street
The hipster and his hired hat
Drive a borrowed car
Yellow socks and a pink cravat
Nothing, la-dee-dah
OAP, mother-to-be
Watch the three-piece suite
When shit-stoppered drains
And crocodile skis
Are seen on Beasley Street
The kingdom of the blind
A one-eyed man is king
Beauty problems are redefined
The doorbells do not ring
A lightbulb bursts like a blister
The only form of heat
Here a fellow sells his sister
Down the river on Beasley Street
The boys are on the wagon
The girls are on the shelf
Their common problem is
That they're not someone else
The dirt blows out
The dust blows in
You can't keep it neat
It's a fully furnished dustbin
Sixteen Beasley Street
Vince the ageing savage
Betrays no kind of life
But the smell of yesterday's cabbage
And the ghost of last year's wife
Through a constant haze
Of deodorant sprays
He says retreat
Alsations dog the dirty days
Down the middle of Beasley Street
People turn to poison
Quick as lager turns to piss
Sweethearts are physically sick
Every time they kiss
It's a sociologist's paradise
Each day repeats
On easy, cheesy, greasy, queasy
Beastly Beasley Street
Eyes dead as vicious fish
Look around for laughs
If I could have just one wish
I would be a photograph
On a permanent Monday morning
Get lost or fall asleep
When the yellow cats are yawning
Around the back of Beasley Street
The taste of silver spoons
A clinical arrangement
On a dirty afternoon
Where the fecal germs of Mr Freud
Are rendered obsolete
The legal term is "null and void"
In the case of Beasley Street
In the cheap seats where murder breeds
Somebody is out of breath
Sleep is a luxury they don't need
A sneak preview of death
Belladonna is your flower
Manslaughter your meat
Spend a year in a couple of hours
On the edge of Beasley Street
Where the action isn't
That's where it is
State your position
Vacancies exist
In an X-certificate exercise
Ex-servicemen excrete
Keith Joseph smiles and a baby dies
In a box on Beasley Street
From the boarding-houses and the bedsits
Full of accidents and fleas
Somebody gets it
Where the missing persons freeze
Wearing dead men's overcoats
You can't see their feet
A riff joint shuts, opens up
Right down on Beasley Street
Cars collide, colours clash
Disaster-movie stuff
For a man with a Fu Manchu moustache
Revenge is not enough
There's a dead canary on a swivel seat
There's a rainbow in the road
Meanwhile on Beasley Street
Silence is the code
Hot beneath the collar
An inspector calls
Where the perishing stink of squalor
Impregnates the walls
The rats have all got rickets
They spit through broken teeth
The name of the game is not cricket
Caught out on Beasley Street
The hipster and his hired hat
Drive a borrowed car
Yellow socks and a pink cravat
Nothing, la-dee-dah
OAP, mother-to-be
Watch the three-piece suite
When shit-stoppered drains
And crocodile skis
Are seen on Beasley Street
The kingdom of the blind
A one-eyed man is king
Beauty problems are redefined
The doorbells do not ring
A lightbulb bursts like a blister
The only form of heat
Here a fellow sells his sister
Down the river on Beasley Street
The boys are on the wagon
The girls are on the shelf
Their common problem is
That they're not someone else
The dirt blows out
The dust blows in
You can't keep it neat
It's a fully furnished dustbin
Sixteen Beasley Street
Vince the ageing savage
Betrays no kind of life
But the smell of yesterday's cabbage
And the ghost of last year's wife
Through a constant haze
Of deodorant sprays
He says retreat
Alsations dog the dirty days
Down the middle of Beasley Street
People turn to poison
Quick as lager turns to piss
Sweethearts are physically sick
Every time they kiss
It's a sociologist's paradise
Each day repeats
On easy, cheesy, greasy, queasy
Beastly Beasley Street
Eyes dead as vicious fish
Look around for laughs
If I could have just one wish
I would be a photograph
On a permanent Monday morning
Get lost or fall asleep
When the yellow cats are yawning
Around the back of Beasley Street
Martin i John pozostawali przyjaciółmi przez wiele lat, mieli takie samo poczucie humoru i podobne zainteresowania literaturą o bardzo szerokich horyzontach, od komiksów the Beano do książek Einsteina.
Wkrótce kolejna garść faktów z książki Colina Sharpa, jeśli chcecie je poznać - czytajcie nas - codziennie nowy wpis, tego nie znajdziecie w mainstreamie.
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