“Disasters Running Wild”
We spent our last full day in Barcelona productively. We productively slept till 4pm. We haven’t done that for a very, very long time. Shit was necessary. We have a habit on these mythological holiday thingies of basically doing more of the same fucked up shit that we usually get up to in our normal day-to-day; just with a greater degree of intensity because we’ve managed to kid ourselves into thinking that we’re truly off the hook. Which we were. Then we instinctively find other things to get ourselves hooked on. Such is the case usually for those with excessively addictive personalities, or so we are told. The beach was a welcome change of scene. It were real sandy – our brother was pissed off a bit that we managed to kick sand into his pizza within mere seconds of settling on a chill-out location. A lot of people had their tits out. Seriously. Tit city. Men, women, and indeed children. We have never seen so many multi-gender of varying ages tits in one location in our whole fucking life. It was mental. However, we had to follow suit. We refused to wade into the cold-ass water, mainly as we respect the ocean; a point well-proved by Chris Duncan way over the other side of town at Barceloneta who managed to cut his foot real deep on some kinda sea urchin. We can only imagine the state that the sea urchin is in, given that Chris is a triple-hard man from Yorkshire. Indeed, much like that story about Sean Bean (we’re pretty big into our Sharpe, and this death reel which you should never watch if you’re in the same state we’re in right now) getting into a stabby-barney in a London bar only to calmly return to finish his pint straight after, our band of Barca-bro-las took into the town centre on a Sunday night to find a, um, alternatively-themed karaoke bar where they sold our favourite Death Beers for 6 Euros a pop. We were happy to pay. What happened next can only be described as the greatest Blink 182 and/or Beastie Boys and/or Elton John renditions that you never will see. Although there are videos. Fuck. And now, of course, we’re gearing up to return home. What goes up must come down. And down. And down. To help cushion this inevitable blow to our delightfully-false reality of the last 4 or 5 days (we genuinely cannot remember how long we’ve been here, but we have acclimatised so much that people here seem to have accepted us as legit Spanish, and this whole obligatory siesta thing they’ve got going up in here has made our body-clock switch to Tokyo time), we’re easing ourselves back into the work club. Probably the best option available to us at this time is writing, albeit a miniscule amount (you know how it is), about these new kids on the proverbial block that call themselves Gospel. We read about them on God Is In The TV a couple of hours ago. Props to you guys. You go. Given that we’re in a make-shift office environment right now in Chris Duncan’s and Jerry’s hotel room (we got turfed out of ours at the relatively ungodly hour of 11am, and they were kind enough to take us in given our flight got bumped to way later this evening), we’ve tried to re-create the Killing Moon HQ vibe of throwing this down to the floor for opinions and approvals. The good news is that everyone here approves, to the degree that this is, apparently, a “good song”. Allow us to elaborate on that sentiment. It is a good song in the sense that upon listening we can imagine Fleetwood Mac with Natasha Khan fronting getting real familiar with the works of The National (man, that was such, SUCH, a good show the other day), in a production style that reminds us of our boy Esse. There is also a way about this track to inspire us to listen to Viva Voce, which is also pretty good. After doing a modicum of internet-based research, we’re delighted to learn that this is indeed a splinter project from a band that used to roll as Creatures Of Love, which we’re pretty sure we threw some props towards a while back. Celebrate us. And while you’re doing this, clap your ears on this sonic slice of greatness. In a bit, London.
GOSPEL – Disasters Running Wild