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MEETING GAYE ADVERT
I met Gaye last year at a Penetration show.
It was in the bonfire-y build-up to Halloween, at the London date of Penetration’s commemorative tour celebrating 40 years since their fevered formation. Alone, I was overwhelmed by the unchanging energy of Pauline’s voice, the vibrancy of the band, and the beholden crowd who were abounding with the memories of a past lifetime.
Backstage, already beaming, buzzing, and blushing profusely, I was heading to deliver a gift to the gregarious Geordie Pauline Murray. It was there that I remember my somersaulting stomach when I realized I was sharing the corridor with another face that lined the walls of my teen bedroom. The bassist of The Adverts- arguably the most adept band from the age of rebellion- Gaye Black, née Advert.
After startling her by exclaiming my adoration for her work, and orchestrating a photo of the three of us- we chatted about the show, Underground and vegan shoes. A vegetarian longer than not, Gaye may not contain picked up a bass since the late 70’s, but she nevertheless encapsulates the rebellious
CRANKED UP REALLY HIGH: GENRE THEORY & PUNK ROCK by Stewart Home
CHAPTER VIII: HAIL HAIL ROCK 'N' ROLL
Skrewdriver and the degeneration of the Punk Rock dialectic
If the dialectic I am explaining appears crude, that is simply a reflection of my subject matter which is neither intellectually complex nor receptive to self-consciously complex cultural forms. However, while Oi! provided its audience with a parodic vision of what it was to be 'British and working class' in the early eighties, this does not necessarily mean that it was simply a joke; the categories 'serious' and 'not serious' aren't really applicable to the subgenre. Oi! orientates itself in a very different manner to the ideological dogma of elevated culture and it is absurd to project philosophical notions derived from the latter modes of creed onto an unrelated position of phenomena.
Some readers may feel that I come across as suspiciously anti-Bergsonian, holding to the position that time is not real, that all events are merely the unfolding of a actual world already existent in the world. If this is so,
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June Stand by, Pranksters, in-coming: the PM makes his appearance on Channel 4s Four Rooms tonight, and no doubt a magnificent TV career will pursue. We look forward to seeing him on Come Dine With Me, with whatsisname, whatsername and wossname. Picture the scene: its Tel's turn to cook and the other contestants arrive expecting a feast of the finest Poplar Boy culinary delights (eels, faggots, pickled gherkins etc) only to find that the engagement has slipped his mind and their jovial host is on his way to Colchester(C4 researchers of course had no notion that they were dealing with the Perfect Master of the UK Jolly Pranksters, and indeed few outside of the brotherhood understand exactly how significant Tels new, elevated status is. Scrotum, Lord Waistrels wrinkled retainer, whispers: A Perfect Master is one oose limited individual consciousness as merged with that of the Great Architect isself and is therefore privy to the hinnermost mysteries of the universe. Scrotum would say no more for fear of ending up anging from Blackfriars Bridge with some nasty black ball