Heading Home, Losing My Religion And The Mad Mongolian Seaside Experience

HEADING HOME, LOSING MY RELIGION AND THE MAD MONGOLIAN SEASIDE EXPERIENCE

“Now we hang ourselves on Darwin’s rope”

“Survival Of The Shittest” by The Pocket Gods

It was gig time and off to old Londinium we went. Nige, Bert and Kathy Ann went in the van full of our equipment and I got a lift off mad Bart who fancied a rock n roll trip to England. I just wished he had learnt to drive before we set off. My God that was one scary journey.

We went via Brussels where we stayed overnight at his girlfriend’s flat. We were stupid and lazy and couldn’t be bothered to unload his car with all my stuff in the boot and anyway as this was one of the poshest parts of Brussels we’d thought it would be safe. Bart woke me up in the early hours of the morning looking really worried and saying he had some really bad news. He took me to the window and said his car had been broken into. He had heard it and ran outside but it was too late a gang of youths had taken almost everything in the car. I couldn’t believe it I was gutted and just laughed in a final act of desperation – that was all my worldly goods all my frickin clothes, books, CDs, personal stuff all gone. I didn’t have much in terms of worldly possessions as my parents had seen to that by chucking out any old stuff from my childhood including school photos – they were nice like that. I remember coming home from university in the holidays and found that they had let my room to students and had chucked all my stuff out.

What was the point in going on? If there was a God why was he such a cunt to me? If I was supposed to be special why keep me down in the gutter. I was suicidal for a bit but then clung to the slight hope that the gig in London might just be the big one that gets us on the track to the bigtime. Pipe dreams that’s all they were as I realise now. I was just like those sad drunks in that Eugene O’Brien play – “The Iceman Cometh”. I was a sad skinny drunk clinging on to the desperate hope of salvation – like all those minions who do the National Lottery every week.

We picked ourselves up and headed to Oostende where the ferry was sailing from and we had time to see his friend Inga whom we met in the woods. He told me she fancied me so I thought that’s scary but nice. Anyway we ended up going to a Social Club where Inga was trying to raise the dead spirits of the Mongolian Shamen in a seaside town in Northern Belgium. We all stood round in a circle chanting some Mongolian bollox and disappointingly we didn’t raise any Shamen but I did let rip a few brown clouds in nervous anticipation of meeting dead Mongolian dudes. Seriously this sort of thing would only happen in Belgium.

There was no romance in the air and we headed back to blighty via a rusty old ferry. We got back to St Albans, my old stomping ground, and stayed with Bill. Kathy and crew had already arrived and were staying at Mac’s house in a bit more luxury than me and Bart at Bill’s flat. Kathy Ann thought that Mac must be gay when seeing how tidy and clean his house was, but I think like all the other blokes around he had the hots for her. Anyway, I knew he wasn’t gay as I’d seen his prized porn collection! We played a warm up gig that night at the Horn in St Albans which went really well and people commented on how tight we sounded so I guess those months of rehearsing like mad had paid off.

RED ALERT SNACKS ARE LOW RED ALERT SNACKS ARE LOW

OVER THE BORDERLINE, THE END AND REBUILD

“I want to live in the land of giants.”

“The Land Of The Giants” by The Pocket Gods

We arrived at the world famous Borderline venue the next morning to load up our gear and find a frickin’ parking space which is easier said than done in the West End of London. It was quite awe inspiring walking in there and reading all the posters of the famous dudes who had played there; Jeff Buckley, Bob Dylan, Sisters of Mercy and also Oasis who filmed their video here for Cigarettes & Alcohol.

The gig went really well and we played out of our skins and looked the part of hungry wannabe rock stars. The man from Telstar records was there at the back and I could see dodgy manager Kev chatting to him whilst we were playing our set. What were they talking about? It must be good or he wouldn’t say anything. He seems to be enjoying it I think. Wow maybe this is it. I was having a massive adrenalin rush the kind you only get when playing rock n roll and is better than any artificial drug I’ve ever taken and I guess it’s enhanced  a bit by my manic depression which gives me massive waves of energy sometimes…but the downside is the lows are lower than the low countries.

We came off stage and congratulated each other and then we all felt a mixture of excited anticipation and a bit sad as common sense was kicking in a bit and was telling us that this was probably the last time we would all play together unless we got signed up here and now.

Manager Kev came rushing backstage, well a little corridor were Oasis hung out in their vid snorting coke off a bunch of tarts, and shouted at us; “WE’VE DONE IT WE’VE FUCKING DONE IT. WE’RE SIGNED. HE WANTS US”. Wow we thought that’s cool and then we started asking for a bit more detail. Kevin just said the same thing over and over again;

“WE’VE DONE IT WE’VE FUCKING DONE IT. WE’RE SIGNED. HE WANTS US.”

 The only thing he did say was that he had to call him tomorrow to discuss the details. Tomorrow came and both me and Nige tried to call him at wok but he wasn’t returning our calls. We smelt a rat a big fat KEV RAT and we both felt utterly stupid in that we had asked him back to be our manager as we knew he was dodgy.

Anyway, I decided to wait no more and I called the guy from Telstar Records myself. He told me that although he liked the band he just wanted to sign up the drummer for a new all girl band he was putting together – I later found out they were called The Bush The Tree And Me. I felt gutted and betrayed and bad that I’d wasted 4 months of everyone’s time on this stupid idea of making it. We hadn’t made it, and it was my entire fault. We told Kathy Ann about what the Telstar man had said, but she declined their offer as she was happy in Belgium with her girl and her dog called Muff. Nigel and Bert went back to Antwerp to pursue their own new musical projects – The Low Countries and Zaam, respectively.

I was homeless, had no money, no clothes, no job, and no things at all as they’d all been stolen by teenage Belgium crack whores. I couldn’t go home to my parents as all that waited for me there was a horny old man of a father and a fucking bitch of a mom. I did think about killing myself – maybe a tube train as I was still in London – or under a bus – but I just couldn’t be arsed and had no motivation even to end it all.

In the end my good friend Al from Tower Records said I could stay with him and his parents in Willesden until I got myself sorted. These kind people saved my life and showed me humanity and what it was like to be part of a normal caring loving family. They fed me and lent me some money to get some clothes and I used the time to get my head together and work out what to do next. I would have jams with Al’s dad Benny who would get his harmonica out and start playing old Irish folk songs. We’d also share a few tins of Harp lager together. Therese, Al’s mum, fattened me up with her lovely Irish hospitality and home cooking.

Those roast dinners on a Sunday were the stuff of legend. I did get my shit together and got my old job back at Tower Records and Al’s folks lent me some money for a deposit on a place to rent which Wil, another friend from Tower had kindly let to me.  Since then they have been my surrogate parents and I’d try and pop down and see them on a Sunday from time to time to soak up their pure goodness that they radiated. Unlike all my family apart from Jade my niece, they came to my wedding and were very proud to see me married and happy that I’d got my life sorted.

It was a sad day when Benny died last year. I had to go to the funeral in Willesden though it was the snowiest day of the year… there were no buses and the trains were disrupted but I just had to be there and pay my last respects and also be there for Therese and Al.. I had to set off really early and paid for taxis but I just made it on time. Therese came up to me crying saying; “You’ve lost your Daddy. You’ve lost your Daddy.” I paid my last respects to the great man whom I dearly miss. I drank a few pints of the black stuff in his honour (even though he was more of a Harp man) at the wake in his nephew’s pub The Sir Robert Peel in Queens Park. I was just so glad that Claire and Shimmies and I had made it to Al and Gil’s wedding earlier in the year where we got chance to see him for the last time.

the land of the giants 

a song about ancient aliens called; "the big picture"

Hiya fortean folks!

I have recorded a new song about ancient aliens called the big picture.

It's a song of hope in desperate times and just maybe one day the mothership will return!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UWygh5qpfTA

The Night I Slept In Scully's bed

Yay my debut book is out now. It's called; "Weird - The Life And Times Of A Pocket God" and as well as being about my time in music it's also about all the weird Fortean stuff that's happened to me along the way.
You can find out more about it here;

http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/weird---the-life-and-times-of-a-pocket-god/18722334

THE NIGHT I SLEPT IN SCULLY’S BED & JAMMIN’ WITH THE JESUS & MARY CHAIN

“My McCartney bass lines are lost in the fuzz, pure white noise and a rock and roll buzz”

“The Jesus And Mary Chain” by The Pocket Gods

Y

es it’s true kind of. I was still living in that great sweaty mass of energy they call London and had made friends with an American couple, Bob and Carol from Boston. I had met them through my other American friends Dave and Sheri whom I met whilst living in Hungary, and that folks is a whole other book. Anyway they had come to a few of the last High Ones gigs and they thought that I was some sort of pop star.  I was flattered by their attention. They both were well educated Harvard graduates who now worked for that bastion of English small worldliness, The Daily Mail. They had that East Coast intellectual diffident vibe which was coasts apart from the West Coast ‘erbal new agers. They invited me to parties and to gigs and I guess I was their pet Brit pop star “bitch” that they paraded in front of their fellow Bostonian ex pats.

I did wonder whether they were in a cult at one stage, maybe Scientologists or Skulls and Bones Alumni but nothing weird happened, until the last night, just lots of Chablis, cous cous, and baseball guff. The last time I saw them was at their leaving party at their posh house in Crouch End. I had never been to their house before but had heard good things about it. Don’t forget I was living in a sub-let council flat 6 foot by 10 foot surrounded by North London White Trash. I got there and they were pleased to see me. They introduced me to the people I hadn’t already met, and re-introduced me to the people that I should have remembered but didn’t, probably because I was just too pissed the last time I met them that the memory was none more blank.

Carol showed me around the house and there was one weird moment when she asked me to come up stairs with her. I thought fuck she’s making a move on me…you see readers nothing scared me more than an attractive assertive woman who fancied me making a move on me…ever since my childhood I had avoided any sexual relations with anyone as I was scarred big time and it was best avoided at all costs…it took me 15 or more years before I had any confidence in myself and managed to patiently build a loving sex life with my now wife Claire Pocket…the only girlfriend I had was Vicky but let’s not go there just yet…

So Carol took me upstairs, but after a longing look into my eyes, she decided (probably after seeing the fear and dread deep in my icey blue eyes) just to show me around as opposed to showing me a good time…first of all she took me into this bedroom and then said to me; “you know of course this used to be Gillian’s room”…I thought so what who the fuck is Gillian but just said; “oh that’s nice”…she said; “you know that this house belongs to Gillian Anderson’s Mum and that Gillian, who’s Scully from the X files, grew up here before she moved to the States. We’re friends of her family and we’re renting it off them whilst we’re over here. You know Mark they’re looking for a new tenant so if you like I’ll put a good word in for you.”…I was just flabbergasted not only was I a massive X flies fan (that’s how we spell it in Sandringtons) I also fancied Scully, in a non sexual way of course, and Mulder was my hero….a loner, sad but driven and always searching for the truth….he was like me but braver. I knew part of me wanted to out my truth…..but I just didn’t have the strength to face what happened…just as Mulder always struggled reliving the day his sister disappeared….anyway it was well exciting being in Gillian Anderson’s house and I thought “wow I’ve got another name to drop now just wait till I tell everyone!”

We went back downstairs and I got a curious look from Bob and I felt like saying it’s ok mate I didn’t shag your wife, but I didn’t. We all just drank some more and then some more. They then started playing my High Ones CD to everyone telling everyone how talented I was. I was a bit drunk and morose by then and slurringly told them that the band was nearly finished and I didn’t know what to do as I had no other bands or projects lined up. It was time for another weird moment as Carol popped up and said; “Well Mark can you play bass guitar?” I thought can The Pope do a Hail Mary “Yes I can fuckin’ play bass” I replied. She then said; “have you heard of a band called The Jesus and Mary Chain as they’re friends of mine and they’re looking for a new bass player. Would you like me to get you audition?” “FUCK FUCKN FUCKN NORA BATTY” my drunk tourettes was OUT OF CONTROL. “YES FUCKING PLEASE I’LL HAVE AN AUDITION”….

JAMC were a fuckin cool indie band who were famous for playing gigs for 20 minutes and causing riots. They were like the Sex Pistols of the 80’s but indie kids. I didn’t know that they were still going but it would be an experience and after all I didn’t have much else to do.  I was well wasted but needed more booze to calm down and I got so calm that I fell asleep. I woke up in the early hours of the morning as I got a flash of dawn’s crack and thought; “where the fuck am I?” I was in fact sleeping fully clothed in Gillian Anderson’s bed….well the bed in her old room which was cool, until I realised that she would have been about 10 at the time and that was just weird and wrong.

Carol asked Gillian’s mum about letting the house to me but apparently she wasn’t keen on having a single musician bloke with not great personal hygiene and limited social skills living in her beautiful 3 storey Victorian house….which was a shame and I was thinking I should have had a wank in that bed while I had the chance….aside - even though I avoided all sexual relationships I knew that I wasn’t gay and that the natural Marky deep inside me fancied women as when I had a wank which wasn’t very often I would fantasize about women.

Well as for the JAMC Carol made a call the following day and I got a call from Jim Reid, one of the Scots brothers in the band, who asked me a few things about myself and told me they were looking to put together a new line up and were looking for a bass player. He said he’d send a tape in the post and if I could have a listen and then come in for an audition at their studio next Thursday that would be great …wow!

So I got the tape but big problem I didn’t have a bass…Jim from the High Ones didn’t fancy lending me his bass so I asked my old mate Bill Johnson (see - he pops up quite a lot in this story) and asked if I could borrow his precious Guild Bass….which he did, once I told him what it was for. “Just look after her she’s a special lady” Bill told me…she was and I did…

So I’d been jamming away to the tape for a few days and had all the songs sussed - this after all was the JAMC famous for their 3 chord songs…and I got carried away adding extra notes and giving the bass lines a nice McCartney veneer. He was after all my favourite bass player of all time. Those counter point melodies made a lot of Beatles songs into classics…RAIN anyone?  The greatest B side of all time. Anyway I was ready to Rock and kick out the JAMS motherfucker and off I trotted to the scary world South of The River...

The audition was at their own studio appropriately called “THE DRUGSTORE” in South London so I got the tube down to the Elephant & Castle. I was trying to relax as I was a bit nervous so decided to walk the last bit instead of getting the bus…..this was another big shot at the big time maybe, but after the letdown of the Shitfield battle of the bands I was a little more laidback about what might happen…I didn’t want to get my hopes up too much but let’s just say I was getting ready to shout at the world and  more importantly my parents – “FUCK YOU, I MADE IT!”

Anyway I had my converse boots on and my very old Sonic Youth T Shirt and was looking good! I got to the studio on time and pressed the buzzer…and pressed the buzzer again….no answer…well I guess this is the JAMC and I probably lost marks for arriving on time…40 minutes later one of the band turns up saying; “You’re a bit early shall we go in?”

So we did – WOW WOW WOW what a fucking studio, this was ace…their famous amps were there with “WILLIAM” and “JIM” written on them in big white letters….and there was ROCK N ROLL STUFF everywhere like Bottles of Jack Daniels, big Fuck off Sofas (obviously to entertain the groupies) and tons of cool guitars…they tried to make me feel at home and told me what was going to happen. They were going to record my audition so that they could play it back and have a listen…I stepped into the bass booth and turned on the amp adjusting the volume to what I thought was a nice level…Jim came running in saying louder, louder and cranked it up past 11. He also kicked on a fuzz pedal so basically it was just white noise…..cool!  I jammed along note perfect to all the toons but my kinda complex groovy bass lines got lost in the fuzz.

Oh well I gave it my best shot….I was waved into the sound booth where the guys had been listening. They said it sounded good and then Ben the guitarist was asking me what I’d done with the bass lines as they sounded more interesting than what he played on the original demo…I just waffled  back some incoherent nonsense about chords and minor thirds…I was star struck…..next stop PUB….

We all went off for a drink and a chat at their local….me on Stella whilst the rest of the band were on either Herbal Tea or Mineral Water…..to which I wasn’t impressed…they were kinda quiet and morose as well and the only time they got animated at all was when I asked them what they were doing at the weekend. They all looked very excited and told me they were going to watch the Chelsea - Man U game with Alan McGee in his private box. They said they go and watch all their home games in his big fuck off box. Corporate JAMC, teetotal, boring…this was a major disappointment to me and though I knew they were older than they were at their peak…I’d seen more life and rock n roll spirit at bingo hour in my evils Nan’s old folks home. However, I still wanted the job so pretended that I was having a good time hanging out with the JAMC. We then went our separate ways; they went off to bed…well it was 8pm…and me back to the Islington dive….they said they would call….they never did. Another chance to hit the big time gone gone gone ….but I later found out that the band never reformed and I guess all good things come to an end….like my band at the time The High Ones…

I recently wrote a song about my all too brief time with The Jesus and Mary Chain imaginatively called The Jesus and Mary Chain. It’s over 6 minutes long and has 3 chords in it. I’m not sure if it’s a work of art or just crap and I guess that’s what I think about everything I write. Is it good or am I just mad and untalented? Am I the Ed Wood of indie pop? These are the questions I keep asking myself but my ego always takes over and keeps my rock star dreams alive.

Songs Of The Holy Grail And The End Of The World

 

My Fortean Opus - Songs Of The Holy Grail And The End Of The World - has been entered into the grammys for this year under Best Alternative Album...which is way cool...

I had fun recording this album at home, especially as it's a triple album featuring 30 songs on everything from Alchemy (Paracelsus) and the Rennes Les Chateau mystery to UFOs and end of the world prophecies. It's random and lo-fi, as all pocket gods releases are, and probably doesn't stand too much of a chance against our competition for the grammy - Radiohead, Elbow, PJ Harvey and Iron And Winde...but then again did any of them write a song about the knights templar hanging out at my local?

Should you wish you can buy the album from all major digital download stores - here is a link to the album in I tunes;
songs of the holy grail and the end of the world by the pocket gods

There is also a song on there called thetombman which is about Ben Hammott - who was featured in the ace film - Bloodline - by Bruce Burgess. Ben allegedly found a knights templar tomb near Rennes Les Chateau which may even be the tomb of Mary Magdalene.

Here is a link to the leaked grammy entry list for best alternative album which has the pocket gods at no. 75.
I also contacted Paddy Power bookmakers to see what our odds were of winning the grammy. They went away and did some calculations and got back to me with a price of 50 to 1! Which is not bad and they are the same odds for either Arsenal or Spurs to win this seasons Premier League title.

grammy entry list.

more st albanian weirdness

St Albans is a wonderful place to live....if you're rich. It's full of bankers and footballers. However, its saving grace is its wonderful culture - from Roman ruins to the fab music scene it has something for everyone even footballers and bankers.
Yes there's more to Snorbens than the train line to london run by First C*nts Connect - incidentally FCC's first move once taking over ownership of the Station from Thameslink was to install charging cash machines...says it all really and sums up the current vibe in our once wonderful city.
Still they can't take away our history and heritage..er well yes they can - remember the Mile House being demolished to make yet more poncy flats for poncy gets. Anyway, I digress as usual I wanted to share with you some secret arcane knowledge hidden away at the bottom of our park.

There is a church at the bottom of Verulamium park called St Michaels which gave it's name to the St Michaels part of St Albans. I noticed this odd symbol of the St David's cross in one of the church windows. As you may be aware the St David's cross is a sign of the Jewish faith and seems a little out of place in a Christian church. Except, this is no ordinary church it once was part of the Gorhambury Estate and home to lots of Baron dudes including the one and only Sir Francis Bacon who was a famous late 16th Century early 17th Century statesman, philosopher, scientist and general all round show off chap who died whilst inventing frozen chicken (look it up it's true). Inside the church there is a monument to him but it is the weird window that grabs the attention of my Fortean mind. Bacon was also Lord Chancellor of the country for a while and served under fellow smart alec King James 1st of England.

However, not many people know of his secret dark side where he was alleged to be a member of the uber secret society of the times - The Rosicrucians. Indeed one of their symbols that they used was the star of David which they used to imply their secret knowledge handed down by Kabbalists in the Jewish Mystery schools. It is still going today and has quite a following in the United States - see link below;
http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/cross-purposes-who-are-the-rosicrucians-1767848.html

Some authors including the mad but bad author of The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown - see the Rosicrucians as an important link from The Knights Templars to modern day Freemasonry. Francis Bacon also wrote a philosophical treatise called New Atlantis in which a utopian society was ruled by.......you guessed it the Rosicrucians. In some ways Bacon was way ahead of his time. In New Atlantis he advocated greater rights for women and the abolition of slavery. However, some researchers have found a more seedy side to him which suggested he was a "pederast" in the fact that he preferred the company of young boys. This side of him is also kept quite hidden and I find it a bit scary and weird that there is a school named after him in St Albans.

Some writers have also linked Bacon to the mystery of Oak Island where the so called "Money Pit" is said to contain magical treasure such as the Ark Of The Covenant or The Holy Grail. Many 100's of people - treasure hunters, explorers and celebrities including Clark Gable have tried in vain to find this treasure. Some have put forward the theory that Bacon buried evidence in the Money Pit which proved to the world that he was the writer of the plays attributed to the great William Shakespeare. The trouble is the Money Pit has been highly booby trapped with an elaborate flooding system which has meant that it has been impossible to find the "treasure" at the bottom.
http://www.oakislandtreasure.co.uk/content/section/5/35/

So there you go another little example of the weird and wonderful which can be found amongst the blocks of toytown yuppie flats and overpriced restaurants.