Recently there have been rumours. Rumours on the threads. Rumours which have troubled fans of Greville and the Tombstones. Rumours of a magnetic tape circulating. Which is why, if I wanted to blog this press release today, then this would be it.
Is the band splitting up?
I can say with absolute certainty the band is not splitting. We are not going to be another La's.
What about the tape?
Alright, I was hoping this would never come into the public domain, but circumstance has laid it's cold hand on us.
This is a transcript from a recording discovered at the studios where Greville and the Tombstones are recording our seminal first album. It was meant to be destroyed, but was found in a bin, remastered using sell-o-tape and subsequently leaked out by probably Julian Assange, knowing him, currently staying with dance guru, Sash on his holidays. The date of the recording has been undetermined.
.................................................
[The tape warps the sound at the start and then we hear a voice cracking through for the first time]:
GT: OK guys, take five. We have just recorded our first number one record.
The T: [congratulating themselves with whoops]
Telephone: Ring-ring, ring-ring, ring-ring, ring-ring
GT: I’ll take it!
[Click of receiver]
Hello? Greville talkin’. No, I am not a Tombstone. They are my band. No, I am not the manager of the Tombstones. I am Greville of Greville AND the Tombstones? Ah – uh-huh. I see. I see. Oh I will be sure to pass on the message. Thank you kindly.
[Pause]
So I hear you guys have booked another recording studio to record some sweet material without me?
The T: [murmurs]
GT: After all we’ve been through? The naming ceremony last week where you all received your Tombstone names from the Chief who called you after the visions he saw in the spirit flame of fire he lit in front of your faces? The Crash Test Dummies did the same thing too, you know, and they ended up recording just the best goddamn album in history.
The T: [Half-denials and then one voice, louder] It’s not what it seems…
GT: Oh, Squiggly Leaf, tell me: what is going on?
SL: Well, we like being in the band. We’d never leave it. It’s cool. But we want to try out some music of our own, without the confines of being a Tombstone and all that coolness it represents. Forming a separate band gives us that freedom.
GT: And you all feel the same as Squiggly Leaf? You too, A Bit Like A Sleepy Bear?
ABLASB: Sure, Grev. We all do. Me, Squiggly Leaf, Fish Or Goat and Ironically Fire.
GT: And what is this new band of yours calling itself?
IF: The Dark Throw.
GT: What on earth does that even mean, Ironically Fire?
IF: Well we figured you were the bright star, I mean your name is the first thing in the band name. So we were, like, the shadow thrown out behind you. The Dark Throw was what we called ourselves to connote the shadow.
GT: That’s actually pretty good. And what genre are you recording in?
FOG: Instrumental Country Gothic. A little heavier than what we are doing with you for this album. More slide guitar. We are going to have our name in silver on the album cover. That kind of music.
GT: That’s quite interesting. It could go places.
SL: And we figure we could be the warm up act for us at Greville and the Tombstones gigs.
GT: Good point. OK, I’ll allow this side project. If you mainly stick with my band, I’ll even give The Dark Throw some Twitter ups. But you are all forgetting one pertinent fact.
ABLASB: What’s that, Greville?
GT: You don’t play any music. There is no music making going on here. Greville and the Tombstones, have no tunes at all. We don’t do gigs. In fact none of you actually exist and this recording studio we are in? It is just an empty cardboard box I am shouting into while wearing headphones plugged into nothing, sitting alone in my flat.
IF: Fair point. But next time you’re on Twitter could you tweet the details of The Dark Throw’s booking down at the local Booze N’ Newz this Saturday?
.......................................................
At this point the tape stops.
So, you can clearly see after this, there is no need to worry about things. I'm fine.
Saturday, 1 September 2012
Friday, 31 August 2012
Tuesday, 28 August 2012
What am I made of?
One night this week my lady caught me doing something. Something I would have continued to do if someone hadn’t walked back into the room.
It was after 11pm. Relaxed in the sitting room, I had eaten well and with just Laura Tobin telling me about tomorrow’s weather on the Television for company for several minutes, and the angle poised lamp light, casting elongated shadows over the furniture, I half slouched down on the settee and it just felt right, you know how it is, to consider my own body.
On walking in on my situation at hand, Mrs. Tombs stuttered to a halt: “What on earth are you up to?!?”
When I explained what I was up to, she told me it would only end with me having to be taken to A&E because I had pulled my own spine out my hips, at which point I would have to look a doctor straight in the eye and say I did it as a result of the curiosity of if I could taste my own knee.
And the doctor would not fully believe that.
So I stopped, knowing she was right.
Earlier in the day I was out at a family party. Not for my family, you understand. I got talking to a man called Marvin. Apparently he is known as a very boring man in this family’s circles and I was, by virtue of unwittingly standing next to him, taking a boredom bullet for the relieved family. Which explained why no one came up to us for pretty much all of the afternoon as part of the customary mingling processes these occasions usually present – despite my watering eyes.
This was despite the fact I liked him because he reminded me of a man from the 1970’s. He was a collection of straw yellow shirt, brown flannel tie with brown tint spectacles and had a moustache from a documentary featuring a father of two teenage daughters who had recently got a management position at the local BETAMAX factory.
This kept me amused during his in depth discussion at me about Ordinance Survey map scales. At some stage during a binary description of his 2nd family holiday in Austria, I thought: I wonder what my knee tastes like? I should know this, it’s my knee! I have never touched my own knee with my lips, mores my shame! I mean, it is my body and I am a grown adult, able to do things with my body if I want to, like simply tasting my own knees. When I get home, I am absolutely going to aim to find out. There is no right minded reason why I should not know this.
And I will tell you, I am glad I experimented with my body that very night. Shambolically convexing, lilting and tilting like an upturned wood louse on the couch, trying to taste any one of its 3, 8, however many knees. I am not proud I was seen doing it, don’t get me wrong. No one should be seen trying to taste their knee. But I did manage a little strained lick, though. The tiniest touch before by leg sprang back from my face.
For those of you wondering what it tasted of?
Wrist.
It was after 11pm. Relaxed in the sitting room, I had eaten well and with just Laura Tobin telling me about tomorrow’s weather on the Television for company for several minutes, and the angle poised lamp light, casting elongated shadows over the furniture, I half slouched down on the settee and it just felt right, you know how it is, to consider my own body.
On walking in on my situation at hand, Mrs. Tombs stuttered to a halt: “What on earth are you up to?!?”
When I explained what I was up to, she told me it would only end with me having to be taken to A&E because I had pulled my own spine out my hips, at which point I would have to look a doctor straight in the eye and say I did it as a result of the curiosity of if I could taste my own knee.
And the doctor would not fully believe that.
So I stopped, knowing she was right.
Earlier in the day I was out at a family party. Not for my family, you understand. I got talking to a man called Marvin. Apparently he is known as a very boring man in this family’s circles and I was, by virtue of unwittingly standing next to him, taking a boredom bullet for the relieved family. Which explained why no one came up to us for pretty much all of the afternoon as part of the customary mingling processes these occasions usually present – despite my watering eyes.
This was despite the fact I liked him because he reminded me of a man from the 1970’s. He was a collection of straw yellow shirt, brown flannel tie with brown tint spectacles and had a moustache from a documentary featuring a father of two teenage daughters who had recently got a management position at the local BETAMAX factory.
This kept me amused during his in depth discussion at me about Ordinance Survey map scales. At some stage during a binary description of his 2nd family holiday in Austria, I thought: I wonder what my knee tastes like? I should know this, it’s my knee! I have never touched my own knee with my lips, mores my shame! I mean, it is my body and I am a grown adult, able to do things with my body if I want to, like simply tasting my own knees. When I get home, I am absolutely going to aim to find out. There is no right minded reason why I should not know this.
And I will tell you, I am glad I experimented with my body that very night. Shambolically convexing, lilting and tilting like an upturned wood louse on the couch, trying to taste any one of its 3, 8, however many knees. I am not proud I was seen doing it, don’t get me wrong. No one should be seen trying to taste their knee. But I did manage a little strained lick, though. The tiniest touch before by leg sprang back from my face.
For those of you wondering what it tasted of?
Wrist.
Monday, 27 August 2012
Gloom Pop, ba duba dop
Some people earlier this month were asking: "Greville, how many tracks are going to be on the upcoming Greville and the Tombstones album: It took the body parts of 7 men to make him but only 1 woman to break his heart, made from 3 men's hearts?"
And I said to them: "Look. There is no upcoming album. Because there is no band. Why do people keep asking about this? I tweet about there being no band all the time! I can't play an instrument and I have never sang in public. Not even along to anything. However, I will ask you this: how many tracks are on the greatest album ever made - God Shuffled His Feet, by The Crash Test Dummies?"
And they replied: "12, including the hidden track."
And I said: "There you go."
To be honest, I was thinking about not answering their questions anymore after this. Maybe if I just stopped mentioning I have no band at all, this nonsense would stop? I could then go on my own ways, far from this madness.
Later this month I met Laura - AKA She Makes War - who was in town performing at a couple of venues.
She Makes War describes her music as Dramatic Gloom Pop. Confusingly, Laura is not all that gloomy. Laura is rather effervescent and lovely.
Laura is also very talented and multi-skilled, busily writing and performing She Makes War songs and directing her own music videos. Laura is confidently pointing towards much of the interesting and vibrant relationship between musician and music fan using social networking.
Laura maintains a comprehensive online presence keeping all of her artistic credit as well as control of promotion and a business freedom.
She is also totally cool. We follow each other now on Twitter, you know.
I don't mind saying I was initially in awe of her. I mean, a real life cool musician person talking to me. Wow.
Naturally, in the course of conversation, I mentioned that I did not have a band. It was pretty much at the start of the course. Basically to impress her.
I explained that I had no band called Greville and the Tombstones, wasn't in the progress of recording an album nor was I performing any time soon. I mean, OK, I've written songs... with basically no musical accompaniment...
Not sure it did impress, but Laura was intrigued. She passed me her band business card.
Laura asked: "Do you have band merchandise?"
"No."
"You should think about it. You should come up with band art work and use it to sell things to your fans."
And immediately I did think about it. Because She Makes War also makes excellent suggestions.
Obviously there would be the Greville and the Tombstones cuff-links. For younger fans - Greville and the Tombstones knitted-to-scale figures. And ladies could purchase vest tops of a selection from a small colour palette. That would be something! Selling band merch!
Later on I saw Laura play as She Makes War. Fair to say, She Makes War made a terrific impression on the varied demographic in a small, traditionally apportioned old town bar. Laura has a mesmeric stage presence - very watchable, and listenable. She Makes War is exciting. I had a thoroughly good time and would like to see her perform again.
It is also fair to submit Laura has reignited my passion for not being in a band. I am almost certainly not working on a band logo in my head right now!
Indeed, here we sit, only a couple of weeks later, and I could announce the latest track for the album. If there was one being worked on. Which there isn't.
It is to a largely upbeat tune - something akin to Fall Out Boy's more commercial stuff.
Not sure where the inspiration for the lyrics came from, to be honest. It is funny how my songs seem to come from almost subliminal means. A half noticed drop of a leaf into a puddle, perhaps? Anyway, it's called: (I have a crush on) A Gloom Pop Girl.
I mean, what's all that about, eh? A psychologists dream!
And I said to them: "Look. There is no upcoming album. Because there is no band. Why do people keep asking about this? I tweet about there being no band all the time! I can't play an instrument and I have never sang in public. Not even along to anything. However, I will ask you this: how many tracks are on the greatest album ever made - God Shuffled His Feet, by The Crash Test Dummies?"
And they replied: "12, including the hidden track."
And I said: "There you go."
To be honest, I was thinking about not answering their questions anymore after this. Maybe if I just stopped mentioning I have no band at all, this nonsense would stop? I could then go on my own ways, far from this madness.
Later this month I met Laura - AKA She Makes War - who was in town performing at a couple of venues.
She Makes War describes her music as Dramatic Gloom Pop. Confusingly, Laura is not all that gloomy. Laura is rather effervescent and lovely.
Laura is also very talented and multi-skilled, busily writing and performing She Makes War songs and directing her own music videos. Laura is confidently pointing towards much of the interesting and vibrant relationship between musician and music fan using social networking.
Laura maintains a comprehensive online presence keeping all of her artistic credit as well as control of promotion and a business freedom.
She is also totally cool. We follow each other now on Twitter, you know.
I don't mind saying I was initially in awe of her. I mean, a real life cool musician person talking to me. Wow.
Naturally, in the course of conversation, I mentioned that I did not have a band. It was pretty much at the start of the course. Basically to impress her.
I explained that I had no band called Greville and the Tombstones, wasn't in the progress of recording an album nor was I performing any time soon. I mean, OK, I've written songs... with basically no musical accompaniment...
Not sure it did impress, but Laura was intrigued. She passed me her band business card.
Laura asked: "Do you have band merchandise?"
"No."
"You should think about it. You should come up with band art work and use it to sell things to your fans."
And immediately I did think about it. Because She Makes War also makes excellent suggestions.
Obviously there would be the Greville and the Tombstones cuff-links. For younger fans - Greville and the Tombstones knitted-to-scale figures. And ladies could purchase vest tops of a selection from a small colour palette. That would be something! Selling band merch!
Later on I saw Laura play as She Makes War. Fair to say, She Makes War made a terrific impression on the varied demographic in a small, traditionally apportioned old town bar. Laura has a mesmeric stage presence - very watchable, and listenable. She Makes War is exciting. I had a thoroughly good time and would like to see her perform again.
It is also fair to submit Laura has reignited my passion for not being in a band. I am almost certainly not working on a band logo in my head right now!
Indeed, here we sit, only a couple of weeks later, and I could announce the latest track for the album. If there was one being worked on. Which there isn't.
It is to a largely upbeat tune - something akin to Fall Out Boy's more commercial stuff.
Not sure where the inspiration for the lyrics came from, to be honest. It is funny how my songs seem to come from almost subliminal means. A half noticed drop of a leaf into a puddle, perhaps? Anyway, it's called: (I have a crush on) A Gloom Pop Girl.
(I have a crush on) A Gloom Pop Girl
All shade and hair in a twirl,
She plays songs of gentle doom.
The darkest star in the planetary constellation,
An electro-lightening complication,
I feel iron tide in blood as amps charge the room,
I have a crush on a gloom pop girl.
Because I like my castles in ruins,
I like my clouds coloured grey.
I like my birds to be ravens
And I like the desolate turn of the day.
The melodies uncoil and unfurl,
Misery, all is lost to her voice,
Melancholic comfort of warmth in midwinter coat
Heartbreak found of old love’s note
The subtle indifference of Hobson’s choice
I have a crush on a gloom pop girl.
Because I like my castles in ruins,
I like my clouds coloured grey.
I like my birds to be ravens
And I like the desolate turn of the day.
My emotions transfix in bleak whirl
Pasted in a Victorian scrap book
Curled corners of pictures, the failure of glue
Blurred image inks distill into blue
Unevenly spread where these hands shook
I have a crush on a gloom pop girl.
Because I like my castles in ruins,
I like my clouds coloured grey.
I like my birds to be ravens
And I like the desolate turn of the day.
[Power chord moment]
Hey, hey, hey!
Oh, Hey!
Hey!
Gas lit film flickers away!
It sparkles down on your skin!
Danger but not feeling peril,
A vile of poison bottled in crimson,
A rusting shield under skies of gloomy weather,
I see we can get through this together
Now I know others share imperfect vision
I have a crush on a gloom pop girl.
Because I like my castles in ruins!
I like my graveyards overgrown,
I like my birds to be ravens
And I like my tombstones uneven and prone.
I mean, what's all that about, eh? A psychologists dream!
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