June 14, 2006






“What, Jon?”

“You know how you get to play that little cocktail drum kit on ‘Bangers ‘n’ Mash’“?

“Yes, I remember.”

“You get such a big round of applause just for playing that fucking Madchester baggy beat. I want some love, too.”

“OK. Play the little drums all you want. Play them on the new song.”

“You know, Thom, there are TWELVE new songs. Can you be more-”

“I don’t care, I don’t care. ‘Down Is The New Up.’ Do that one.”


“It won’t make a big difference anyway. When I do my jazz hands things in the chorus and stand up at the piano while singing, the people’s love for me will be clear, and clearly triumphant.”




“Fuck’s sake, Jon, I’m taking the piss. You’re a better drummer.”





“Have you ever gotten a good look at what I’m up to during ‘Street Spirit’“?

“Not really. I’m a bit busy, you know, with the SINGING and the personality and all that.”

“I am playing a not uncomplicated guitar bit with my hands, AND, with the HEADSTOCK OF MY GUITAR, playing the keyboard part. AT THE SAME TIME.”



“Couldn’t Ed do some of that?”

“Do you know what else, Thom?”

“Don’t say the lesbian P.E. teacher thing.”

“I didn’t say it. I’m just repeating what an audience member said. With that fauxhawk and the Ben Sherman, you look EXACTLY like-”

“Why don’t you fucking play your fucking Kaoss pad, King TeleTubby? Nobody wants to see you dance.”

“You fake plastic motherfucker.”

[Whirling, World Cup-inspired brawl ensues. First pressings of Ligeti LPs are broken, entire notebooks of Twombly-esque figures are drenched in organic fruit juice.]



“‘Airbag’ tonight?”

“Nice one. See you at check.”


[DEPRESSINGLY NECESSARY DISCLAIMER: This is a flight of fancy, an imagined conversation. I did not actually witness or overhear this conversation.]

Posted by Sasha at June 14, 2006 12:59 PM | TrackBack