It! The Terror from Beyond Space!

IT! Reaches through space! IT! Scoops up men and women! IT! Gorges on blood! IT! appears to be a man in a flimsy lagoon-creature style suit. With unconvincing pincers. And there's nothing more disappointing than unconvincing pincers, believe me. Relax, I'm sure I'll run out of these at some point. Then I'll be really stuffed.

Another cranium-churning triple-header for you tonight. A snippet of the billy, a silverside of the blubber and an unholy cocktail of the trash. In that order. Order is very important. Especially in restaurant.


The Meteors - Johnny Remember Me (ID records; 1982)

A1: Johnny Remember Me
B1: Wreckin' Crew
B2: Fear of the Dark


There's really no middle ground with psychobilly record covers. You can count the amount of times you look at one and think "hm, it's alright, I suppose" on the fingers of a particularly unlucky leper. One who lost all his fingers in a haybaling incident. Or possibly a card game. Regardless, they're pretty much always either really quite fantastic, or particularly dreadful. This one teetered on the brink of the former, prior to belly flopping spectacularly into the latter. I mean, look at it. I'm guessing that's the head of Johnny, right there. Lady (or possibly P. Paul Fenech) is offscreen to the left, airing her thoughts. Yes, it's the thought bubbles that tip it over the edge. Very classy. She thinks in capitals, how singular. My copy has 10p scrawled in biro in the thought bubble, sets it off a treat. Of course, these were the pioneering days of the limited edition picture disc (I'm not entirely sure how limited an edition "just about every other copy you see" is, but still), and ID Records and the Meteors certainly didn't shun the opportunity to add the final piece of the poo jigsaw. Don't believe me? Google it. Or, better still, look slightly to the right of these typed letters:

See? "Johnny, remember me", "firstly, I'm the Meteors, not Johnny, and secondly I'M IN A FIELD". But of course - potential forgetfulness = squatting in a field! It's not even symmetrical, you marvelous music purveying goons! It's one from the pantheon of Pan's People style interpretations for picture discs. "We need a picture, for the disc. Y'know, the limited edition picture disc", "what song is it?" "Johnny remember me", "how's that go? play it to me" *song plays* "when the mists are risin', when the rain is fallin', and the wind is blowin' cold across the moor..." *eureka moment* "OF COURSE! quick lads, let's go sit you in a field, there isn't a moor nearby...". Tch, really.

Of course, all three of these songs are readily available elsewhere (this compilation, that compilation, the other compilation), so why would you be interested in this? Well, it's direct from lovely 7'' vinyl, SUCKER. So therefore, it is clearly much, much better. Besides, it's nice to remind yourself of one of P's (P? P. Paul? Mr. Fenech? Stupid name if you ask me) most accomplished vocal workouts (one of the few times you don't find yourself wishing that it had been handed to Nigel to sing/that Nigel was still in the band to sing it), on one of the most pleasing of all the interpretations of Joe "shotgun in your face" Meek's masterpiece. The b-sides rock along like complete bitches, too. Fear of the Dark, in particular, gives me the musical horn. Get it now, cementheads. You know where it is.


Blubbery Hellbellies - Flabbergasted (Upright; 1985)
1: Hootin' and Howlin'
2: On the Other Side
3: Food Poisoning; 4: On the Trail
5: Moved Away; 6: Eraserhead Baby
7: Pig Country; 8: Broken Man
9: My Baby, She's as Fat as Me
10: Make the World Go Away
11: Prehistoric Plateau


Not really psychobilly as such, but the connection is sufficiently untenuous (and the record mighty swingingly fine enough) to be included here. Cowpunk, without the punk. Cowpop, Cowbilly. Hillbelly. Porky and Western. Whatever.

First full lengther (hurr) from the 'Bellies (as nobody calls them), following on from the recorded-in-a-drain mini-debut "At Large" the year before (a fine record in its own right, despite the audibility issues, graced by two fine covers - particularly Green, Green Grass of Home). Criminally overlooked then, abominably ignored now, it's a splendid slice of chubby musicianmanship. A handful of solid, stetson-friendly solid gold steer classics, and a supporting cast that is entirely easy on the linedancing ear. Ignore the fact that Boz Boorer had something to do with it (despite the fact that he wrote "My Baby, She's as Fat as Me", I still heart it to bits). Stand out highlights of an all round meaty and solid album would be the opening "Hootin' and Howlin'", the aforementioned "My Baby, She's as Fat as Me" ("my baby drink a bottle of gin / she goes to a dance and the floor caves in" - a jaunty little swingin' number that never outstays its welcome), "Eraserhead Baby" (the start of which always makes me think of "Spirit in the Sky" and, by the end of which, I'm perennially left with mental images of something with no arms or legs, but the face of a sheep) and my particular favourite, "Food Poisoning", a moving musing on love and food with a hint of the Boring Bob Piranha to the vocals ("it's not Claire Rayner I need to see / it's the public health inspector I need").

Whilst nothing on this or the surrounding albums comes close to the majesty of their cover of "Champion the Wonder Horse" (no great crime - little in God's splendiferous musical creation does), this is still a mighty fine album deserving of a place in your collection so thus I entreat you, clicky in the commenty linky and toast the glory of the chubby genius that is and was the Blubbery Hellbellies. Last I heard, one of them was in a band called the Bacon Grabbers. How much better can it get? The urge to run to a field to devour a cow whole and then shout yee-ha! is almost irresistible. Yee-ha! *belch*


The Vibes - Inner Wardrobes of Your Mind (Chainsaw; 1985)

A1: I Hear Noises (Extended Trip Version)
A2: I'm in Pittsburgh (and it's Raining)
B1: Scratch my Back
B2: Hasil Adkins in My Head

This is the 12''/mini-lp effort, not to be confused with the naturally much shorter 7'' released at the same time (it wouldn't be that easy to confuse them anyway. They had different artwork, were called different things and had different songs on apart from "I Hear Noises". And even that was a different version). I can't shake the nagging feeling that I've got the sides mixed up (possibly betraying an unconscious urge to give prominence to which of the sides I played far more often - get it, unzip it, load it, stop making sexual innuendoes and play it - by sweet toasty moses will you agree with me). It matters not, we still have THE prime slice of the best thing to come out of Essex since the person what drew that picture I have up there (the inclusion of this Vibes record is a nod that-a-wards. Give us a wave, Andy). Sure, the "Can You Feel" EP that preceded it and the "What's Inside" album that afterceded it are records that most bands could only dream of achieving, and are bound to have their advocates, but I am in no doubt that this is the best thing they did before they morphed into the Purple Things. Why? Well, I'll tell you.

It just is, right? Let's get the slight downsides outta the way (ugh, the Vines must have crept and crapt into my mind. Shitty little gimps). They aren't the Stingrays, and Gaz isn't Bal. He thinks he is, he wants to be, but he isn't. Wild, but not wild enough. Bal's uncontrolled control is/was a one off, you couldn't have another. Nor do they have anywhere near as many quality songs, and their name wasn't as cool. But. Oh, and but. When they got it right, by jumping Joseph of the Christ family did they get it right. Plus, the dirty great fuzzy reverbathon of a guitar appeals to the guttery garage side of my brain whilst the clickingly splendid slap bass really tickles my testicles (sure the Stingrays had the bass, but the guitar was nowhere near as dementedly sleazy). Following the pattern, let's have the slightly weaker side first. "Scratch My Back" is a pleasingly stompy stomp through pastures well grazed by primetime Cramps, with largely incomprehensible squealing about backs and scratching. "Hasil Adkins in My Head" is both a similarly pleasing grindy grind through very much the same grazing grounds and also a very scary prospect indeed.

Good, oh yes. As good as the other side? Oh, no. Firstly, you have the cod-eastern not-quite-psych noodlings easing you into the freshly extended sofabed "I Hear Noises", soon turning into a funkily rumbling slice thumpingly garage menace, with Gaz showing how much better he was at being Gaz instead of trying to be Bal. Still very nearly a Cramps tribute, but now it's Psychedelic Jungle Cramps played live and fucking loud in an acoustically optimised toilet. Then you have the slimy jewel in the record's thoroughly filthy crown, one of the best covers in the history of coverdom, the Vibes ingestion, digestion, cogitation and regurgitation of The Outcasts "I'm in Pittsburgh (and it's Raining), from all the way back in Pebbles Vol. 1 times (well, a decade before, obviously. But you get what I mean). Quiet bits, check. Suddenly loud bits, check. Shimmering then clattering trap-rattling, check. Massive fuzzout guitar freakery, check. Wild piped Gaz at the top of his Gaz game with a minimum of Bal, check. Absolute riotingly head-destroying 200 seconds of perfect garagey sewer-ooze? You betcha fuckin' fat ass, cementhead.

If you don't get this one (clicky, linky, commenty), I've coming after your ears with bacon scissors. And then I'm feeding them to the 'Bellies (as still nobody calls them).

You have been warned.