the tuesday club

a slight departure from the usual stuff found here – was asked by those lovely people the Tuesday Club to rustle together something – i think the exact remit was a track by track commentary – of their forthcoming debut full length ‘see you next Tuesday’ which young folk with decent musical taste is due out on Record Store Day 2013 and will include a kind of social club gazette insert whereupon these etchings may or may not be found – i’m guessing not given they’ve gone all quiet on us……in case you need links and you do they came be found at – – resist purchasing naff represses by money grabbing bastards jumping on the RSD band wagon and buy this blighter and make them rich…….better than the Adam Ant album……

Welcome weary record store day patron. In your hands you hold a prized copy of the debuting long playing platter by the Tuesday Club, a multi talented pop combo (I get paid the princely sum of one pound sterling each time I say something nice about the band so read on for fond plaudits galore) who you may have occasioned upon playing at your local Darby and Joan social club – yes that was them just before the bingo and sandwiched between the parking announcement and the unsightly tete a tete between Charlene and Debs offering some impromptu entertainment for the attending masses in a three round scratching and screeching scrunchie shredding slap down.

The Tuesday Club used to be known as the Scratch who had a fair old habit of decorating listening spaces in all manner of addictively spruced up hook heavy day-glo punk pop that sound wise sat prettily between the Small Faces, Buzzcocks and the Flamin Groovies in a button badge swapping queue. Now on a sabbatical said band have grown in size enlisting friends and passers by – the latter by a quaint old method known as press ganging – and go by such names as the minx, glabrous fabulous, jerry berry (obviously not his real name), tittybar telski, andreas vanderbraindrain, wasabi penis, beautiful wolf and j-rod.

The object you have in your hand is one of a small limited pressing of three hundred copies of their debut album titled ‘see you next Tuesday‘. You now have one and I have one which means there are just 298 left. Please treat gently and look after said artefact as though it were your prized pet however do not stroke (people are watching) and do not feed or water as contrary to populist belief as with costly discs or CD’s as they are better known, they do not take kindly to being spread in jam or watered.

Now for those of you whose venture today into your local record emporium was their first (how was it for you), then a few do’s and don’ts. What you have in your hand is a vinyl album (also commonly known as wax, platter and indeed record). This cannot be played on your I-pod or for that matter on any other mp3 playing device – and no it isn‘t an oversized CD. It is not to be worn on the head, neither is it to be used as a Frisbee (though occasions have arisen in the past where we have used said items as such however the onset of CD‘s has proven a boon in my discus thowing prowess especially ones coming glued to the front of certain monthly music magazines – no names no pack drill – ahem – Q), a tray either of the cups and plates carrying kind or of the ash variety (though on a personal note I did once occasion in turning my mate Tommy’s prized signed copies of Bay City Rollers platters into variously assorted misshapen animal crafts, a trumpet and even a dainty little bowl which was handy as we did all this while he hotfooted to the kitchen in search of savoury nibbles – sleeves are slightly more problematic but rest assured being a whiz at oragami I’m sure we can rustle up an instruction pamphlet – as a point of reference we found in protracted studies of Tommy’s record collection that anything by the Osmonds where ideal for cannibalising into arty objects. You can find such items loitering in flea markets, house clearances, thrift shops aplenty in exchange for mere trifling change and of course your uncle Neville‘s record collection .

So tasty toon seeking traveller what, I bet your wondering, have you got for your hard earned dosheroonies. Well as it happens the band have asked your dear old scribe to give you a – so to speak – flavour of what to expect by doing a super duper track by track guide. Yes I know what your thinking obviously those Lamacq, Radcliffe and Laverne types were all busy doing fab things like hobnobbing with the stars, going to award ceremonies or else generally unable to leave their exclusive pads for the mountains of fan mail blocking their escape route. Mind you holding our prized collection illegally taped ‘hit the north’ cassettes to ransom did kind of swing things and focus our minds a tad.

In short (and by way of looking through the P window) a fourteen track pop popsicle that playfully pukes, pogos, purrs, powers, preens, pouts, pows and prangs prettily upon your portable platter playing dansette unto which you‘ll hear……..

‘Dolly Dynamite’ – a stutter sprayed faux Bruce Forsyth-ing romp around a 50’s teen dreamed ballroom and succumbed to a becoming at the hop boog-a-loo bubble grooved in Cockney Rebel-esque shimmies with Rocky Sharpe and the Replays.

‘Ain’t got no Class’ – strut riddled glam pouting cool heavily scented in the freakish aroma of Rocky Horror Show’s ‘time warp’ albeit as though skadadled by a ballroom blitzed out meeting of Dr Feelgood types lamping seven kinds out of a prime era Roxy Music.

‘money means nothing’ – darker in intent and straying out of a classic ‘kings’ era Ants haze to shed its skin and psychosis to blossom into a knowing off centred nugget much like a primally pristine Brand Violet.

‘nananana’ – banana splits in head on collision with toy dolls do annoyingly daft and addictive speed freaking three chord romp – need I say more.

‘she splayed my teeth’ – a love crushed dandified day-glo dizzy ditty time travelled from a 1978 edition of Top of the Pops with Motors and Buzzcock-ian squaring up to each other for main attraction dues.

‘new regime (slow swing)’ – ready for some mellow mood muzak dipped in all manner of goonery, smoky jazz swing wonkiness with farm yard animal sounds galore – I kid ye not

‘replication and montage’ – scuzzily prowling lo-fi post new wave groove gouges and twinkling keys purred to a driving motorik motifs done on a slow cooking ‘dirk wears white sox’ backburner.

‘all you do is wow’ – our favourite thing here by a cats whisker – sci-fi twang transmissions cosmically rolled in space dust and flavoured with noodling 60’s spy thematic sounds from the vaults of TV21, astute radars will swoon to its astral array of meek meets man or astro man meets captain scarlet motifs.

‘new glamour’ – demented finger jabbing bad boy sea sawing precariously on a new wave framing cut to a disturbing stop start scowl as though a Dury fronted Stranglers applying playful psychosis.

‘wish my slate was cleaner’ – a dot joining agit pop-a-dillo drawing together the rezillos and buzzcocks.

‘’vinyl is a manifesto’ – mooching melodica, a stoned out Roxy caught rummaging through New York Dolls medicine bag and a rabid sonic rupturing that veers to its groove end assuming critical meltdown

‘oh daddy please’ – throb bopped shimmy trimmed skinny jeaned Quatro-esque loveliness.

‘little miss attitude’ – reflective bedroom lit diarising drizzled in the subtle off centring of a ghostly lovelorn purr.

‘inhuman human being’ – spiky topped homage to Gort or else some other extra terrestrial tin man all needled into to an affectionate kitchen sink featuring 60’s styled snotty nosed shoe shuffling rumble.

Play loud……and at 33rpm…….

The Man in Grey has left the building…..


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