Tag: Music

The Strange Death of Jack Moeran

Roger Ackroyd, Going Postal
Kenmare Pier, Co.Kerry

Just after 4 p.m. on December 1st 1950 a single figure was seen walking down the length of Kenmare Pier in Co.Kerry, southern Ireland. It was already getting quite dark and the squally showers that had been swirling along the west coast of Ireland for most of the day whipped up the surface of the water of Kenmare river – an extension of the Kenmare estuary leading out to the Atlantic – into ribbons of rain lashed furrows that relentlessly beat against the stonework of the pier. The pier, unlike the grand Victorian and Edwardian edifices that grace the British coastline, was a simple affair of less than 70 yards and was used primarily to moor a single fishing boat against on either flank. A short row of cottages faced the pier on its landward end and from one of these an observer watched, curious to see who it was that was venturing out onto the pier at this time of day and in such weather.
At the inquest later this same observer was to say that the figure suddenly dropped into the water but it is unclear wether he meant that the figure jumped or just toppled in. Rushing out onto the pier he watched as the figure swirled and disappeared beneath the water but such was the current at this point that it was brought around close to the steps that ran down the eastern side of the pier and with the aid of a hook it was brought to land and laid out on the pier. It was only then that the cottage dweller recognised the figure he had pulled out of the water. Jack Moeran, well-known in the town of Kenmare and a not infrequent visitor to the Lansdowne Hotel bar – and many other bars that dotted the triangle of main streets. It is not known if the rescuer was fully aware of the history of Jack Moeran but he was quite sure that the figure lying in front of him on the windswept pier was dead. Quite dead.

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Conservative Punks F**k Off!!! – Part Three

Shibusa, Going Postal

It arrived soon enough when the bass player complained of financial problems. I had the perfect solution: We should smarten up a bit, change our name and play weddings for cash, then revert back to type and play our normal material at our normal shows. His reaction was akin to suggesting that he started producing snuff movies at the local primary school to aid his cashflow woes. The merest hint that we should exchange our music for enough cash, even just to cover even our travel expenses was anathema to his and the groups leftist mindset. They did not understand the irrefutable law of nature – that in order to achieve anything, from getting up to change the TV channel to running a business empire, involves exchange. Exchanging hardship for results. They wanted the results without the work.

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Conservative Punks F**k Off!!! – Part Two

Shibusa, Going postal

After intense rehearsals we played our debut show in a Manchester rock club the following month. Transporting our equipment (2 guitars, 1 bass, 3 amplifiers, 1 PA rig and a full drum kit) in 3 bus trips from Ancoats to Piccadilly was like a long drawn out and very unwatchable Crystal Maze task. Whilst unpacking our gear at the venue American Pete noticed that one of the other bands on the bill was comically entitled “Cowpuncher”
Seething with leftist rage and self righteous indignation, he immediately set about finding a member of the band, anyone, just so that he could “kick their fucking ass” for cruelty to animals. After storming around the venue moaning like an injured bovine he didn’t manage to find any unsuspecting member of Cowpuncher until the soundcheck. By that time however, luckily for them, his coiled spring of resentment and rage had been deflated earlier when he upturned a hot dog vendors cart in an ad-hoc protest against meat eating on Market Street.

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