MODERN TOSS: DRIVE-BY ABUSER THOUGHTS ON THE 2010 ENGLAND WORLD CUP CAMPAIGN

I only featured the Drive-By Abuser yesterday but this needs to be seen. Spot-on as ever.

JUNE PLAYLIST

Some stuff that has taken my mind off the football…

1. Ernie Tucker – “Can She Give You Fever” (1960)
Thumping R&B throat ripper out of New York City. Fifteen quid well spent.

2. The Ones – “You Haven’t Seen My Love” (1967)
Tucked between the smashes Motown was having in ’67 was this curious blue-eyed soul release from Midwestern teenagers The Ones. An organ led ballad that both The Tempts and The Zombies would’ve been proud of.

3. James Carr – “I Sowed Love and Reaped A Heartache” (1968)
Look, it’s James Carr and a song called “I Sowed Love and Reaped A Heartache”. Marriages are seldom as perfect.

4. Public Image Ltd. – “Banging The Door” (1981)
The Flowers of Romance is one of the more challenging records in the collection. There’s a very fine line being trod here.

5. The Prisoners – “I Am The Fisherman” (1985)
I spent most of 1985 hunched over a ZX Spectrum playing countless games of Chuckie Egg and Manic Miner whilst listening repeatedly to The Last Fourfathers. Computer games have come on somewhat but there have been few better albums.

6. The Field Mice – “September’s Not So Far Away” (1991)
The Field Mice didn’t jingle-jangle as frequently as their reputation suggests which is a shame because when they did, they did it well.

7. Harlem – “Psychedelic Tits” (2008)
Not the best track from their Free Drugs ;-) album but how can you resist that title? Bit like an early White Stripes with the miserable blues shit replaced with fun pop hooks recorded in a biscuit tin by a bunch of doolally druggie slackers.

8. Teenage Fanclub – “Sometimes I Don’t Need to Believe In Anything” (2010)
Two albums in ten years. What do Teenage Fanclub do with their time? Sit around the house twiddling their thumbs? Serve pints of McEwan’s in their local boozer? It doesn’t sound like they spend time honing their craft - which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

9. Pete Molinari – “Minus Me” (2010)
Molinari borrows more from Presley than Dylan on his new album but “Minus Me” is close enough to “You’re A Big Girl Now” to make up for it (but it doesn't forgive his cheesy videos that almost makes me never want to listen to him again).

10. Frankie & the Heartstrings – “Tender” (2010)
Looking for a new indie hope to hang your straw trilby on? Then you’ll do worse than get behind this Sunderland quintet drawing from the white poppy, vaguely northern soul spirit of Dexys, Aztec Camera and even The Housemartins. Nice video too.

THE MODERN TOSS LONDON MUSEUM OF URBAN SHIT-NAKS EXHIBITION

I like a bit of art, don’t mind an occasional poem, like well placed swearing, like scooters and dislike coffee drinkers. So dig the new additional to the walls of Monkey Mansions featuring the Drive-By Abuser character from the Modern Toss comics (click on it to read). It’s just one of many brilliant potty-mouthed creations from the inspired minds of Mick Bunnage and John Link.

It’s not often you hear laughter in galleries but that’s what you get at this exhibition, featuring alongside our Drive-By Abuser: Mr Tourette the Master Signwriter; Alan the sociopathic scribble; the small talk stalling Cheese and Wine blokes; ridiculous work scenarios; pointless arguments in space; giant flies and all manner of social commentary battened down with a liberal sprinkling of swear words.

Limited edition signed and numbered prints start from £35 and one-off originals for more. Got that, yeah?

The Modern Toss London Museum of Urban Shit-Naks Exhibition is at the Maverik Showroom, 68-72 Redchurch St, London E2 until 4th July 2010. Admission free.

IN MEMORY OF PETE QUAIFE

The Kinks’ remarkable job in keeping its original members alive sadly came to an end with the passing of Pete Quaife this week. I cross Waterloo Bridge and walk along the Embankment most days and often run through his rumbling bass opening to “Waterloo Sunset” in my head. Thanks Pete.

RAY LOWRY: LONDON CALLING at the IDEA GENERATION GALLERY

The Clash’s London Calling is a classic case of an album being spoiled by carrying too much flab, excess baggage and a suffering from a puffed out sense of its own importance. Move “Train In Vain” to side one, drop “Jimmy Jazz”, bin sides 3 and 4 completely and hey presto – they’d have had a decent record.

The sleeve though can stay. Designed by Ray Lowry and using Pennie Smith’s blurry photo of Paul Simonon it’s as good an album artwork as you’ll find. Using that as a starting point, 30 artists, performers, writers and assorted odd bods have donated new works to be auctioned to raise money for the Ray Lowry Foundation which provides funding to aspiring art students.

John Squire goes for a numbered cube painting, Tracey Emin describes first hearing the album, Harry Hill displays a hitherto unseen artistic flair with a large oil painting of The Clash bedded in the earth, Mick Jones and Paul Simonon offer pieces, Clash road manager Johnny Green pens a personal tribute (see above), Ian Wright’s (not that one) torn paper collage is a highlight as is Lennie Payne’s version of the cover produced on – wait for it - twelve slices of toast.

Ray Lowry died in 2008 and many examples of his inky sketches for the NME and the others are exhibited and offered for sale (they don't do anything for me mind). You’ve until 1st July to bid for the others.

Ray Lowry: London Calling is at the Idea Generation Gallery, 11 Chance Street, Bethnal Green, London E2 until 4th July 2010, admission free.

BIRDLAND - HOLLOW HEART

The year was nineteen eighty nine. You can keep your Stone Roses...

BETTYE LAVETTE at the MELTDOWN FESTIVAL, SOUTHBANK PURCELL ROOMS

As an encore Bettye LaVette is singing – no, not singing, singing doesn’t do it justice, she is wringing every last drop of soul out of - “I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got”. A cappella. Her voice has the whole room spellbound . It is something to behold. A moment to enjoy, savour and remember. And it’s just one of a number of similar moments in this performance by a lady who in a stuttering career stretching back to her first single in 1962 has only since 2005’s I’ve Got My Own Hell To Raise got the credit she richly deserves.

Her three albums in the last five years have been lavished with critical acclaim (Grammy nominations), she’s performed for Presidents, and has established herself as a contemporary artist rather than simply a soul survivor on the revival circuit. I last saw her twenty years ago at a northern soul weekender near Great Yarmouth. I can remember the wind rattling the shabby caravan site. I can remember falling over on the gravel outside and dancing with bleeding hands. I can remember some excitement that Bettye was on site and, I think, that there were some drawings of Bettye available to buy for her to sign. To my shame I can’t remember a thing about her performance but I guess she popped up to knock out northern soul staples including “I Feel Good All Over”, “Let Me Down Easy” and maybe “Witchcraft In The Air”.

Back to now and she opens with “The Word”. There’s no denying she is great but she isn’t helped by her band: straight out of Rock School, bass tucked between chin and belly and that jutting head and pursed lips combo that fat beardy session bass players seem to specialize in, plus the capped, grimacing guitarist doing his squinty eyed nonsense. LaVette has the lungs to top them but it doesn’t do her proper justice. It takes a striped away version of George Harrison’s “Isn’t It A Pity” to do that and what an incredible tearjerker it is.

That more or less set the pattern. A couple of medium paced songs followed by a slow one and the slow ones, putting Bettye centre stage, trump the funkier, rockier ones. There’s a questionable song selection on her latest album Interpretations: The British Rock Songboook which she is promoting. She transforms “I Won’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me” but “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” has never done anything for me and even Bettye cannot freshen a turd as stinky as “Nights In White Satin”. Yet give her a decent song like The Who’s “Love Reign O’er Me”, a suitably sympathetic arrangement, and let her cracked, street fighting rasp penetrate deep into your very soul. When she does, the drama and the raw emotions are draining to watch. It seems like a lost art these days but it’s one that after 48 years LaVette has perfected with stunning results.

As much as the torch burners are the indisputable highlights the rockier workouts are livened by Bettye’s graft: working the stage, shaking and writhing her tiny toned frame atop four inch heels like a more dignified Tina Turner. And there are the little things like always saying “we thank you” instead of “I thank you”; of remembering people like Ady Croasdell who’ve helped support her through the tough times; thanking the sound and light technicians – when did you last hear that?; and there’s a moment when she knocks a plastic cup off a chair at the side of the stage with a tiny drop of water in it, instead of leaving it she stoops to pick it up and carefully puts it back on the chair. Somehow that sort of thing impresses me.

The opening bars of her 1965 classic “Let Me Down Easy” gets a massive roar and a massive rendition in return. When too many older artists are happy to saunter along and trade off former glories it’s a real pleasure to watch a performer put her whole being into a show like this. And guess what? She played another show an hour later. Ask me in twenty years if I remember this, and I swear I will.