Hefner

I met Darren Hayman last week at The Star and Garter show, Darren was DJing at the Smile Party, gave him a copy of Ironing the Soul, subsequent emails between us suggest the possibility of supports with Hefner later next year which I'm childishly excited about and look forward to whenever good willing [like god willing only better]. Thanks to Jane from Wirral who emailed re the date confusion in the last poem on these pages, 1976 or 1979 whatever but a long time time ago all the same. I'll leave as it is in the name of accidental deliberacy or suchlike. I've finally sorted the new VP band out for the 12th Dec and hopefully the Feb tour so there will be less monolgging and more noise between songs. It's been ages since I did band gigs, really looking forward to it. New albums are just back from pressing, they can be ordered direct from the site or [if you can wait that long] purchased from major record stores throughout the UK from 16th Feb. Heres another poem from out of nowhere that touches on some of the Growing Up with themes ...without an axe to grind VPxx Phil and Vera I was doing the married mans shuffle Baby to the nursery Bus to the job A sitter once a week Friends in A local pub It was Birmingham In the early 1980’s It was Duran in Rumrunner static Plus the go feet fantastic And we knew someone who knew someone who knew them And you were the actress dressed up as a nurse And I was a media-student of the alternative press And we toyed with the values of socialism We opposed the tory dogma and demonstrated our opposition You joined a feminist theatre group And I did the Music I was on pins to prove that Men too can be feminists As I became my own extremist I opposed all pornography I partook in the social analysis of male dominated voice over ad speak I listened in to the Theatre Groups’ workshops Things were very serious in our house And I took great pride in being seen to wash up the dishes I was at war with my own my sterotype When I discovered you had slept with another man I was mortified I locked myself in the bathroom And cried my first real grown up tears And now for some reason I am thinking about it All over again

The bad poet

Still I cant seem to stop myself wittering on drawn as I am into a world of metaphoric mumbo jumbo, checking old drafts, I stumbled across The 2 Fat Lovers, a poem inspired by a couple I used to see same time same days in silent repose outside a workplace in the heart of the city of culture smoking and gawping and reading the echo. Where did they go I wonder, not having seen them in ages I kind of miss them? Maybe they got better jobs after all? Maybe they went to live in Australia? I do hope so. It's meant to nice out there. And now for something completely different, Ms Veasy, remember me this way x. 1976 and all that We were smoking pot On a wooden bench In the grounds of Bromsgrove County Council Offices The year was 1979 And you were a year older than me And we had spent the previous night Fucking the young dream of love You told me you had never COME in your life You had only ever COME close You told me about the power of mans love overcoming the love of man’s power in the name of PEACE…. God was I impressed! You taught me how to roll a joint And sewed patches on my levis You liked Elton John and Pink Floyd [but it didn’t seem to matter] And smoking pot On a wooden bench In the grounds of Bromsgrove District Council Is how I will always remember you. VPx

Dry land

Back on dry land after a sublime evening with British Sea Power [20/11/03]who were just so cool it still hurts like a broken heart just to have shared a little of their surging frenetic eccentric overdriven madness [with foliage]. OK so I'm going overboard here but what the hell you must catch them if you can. Thanks to all the BSP fans for making me so welcome. Fridays Widnes gig [ Ring O Bells, Pitt Lane]was everybit as interactive coutesy of the the Halton Hairdressers drunken heckling, she loves Wham, The Eagles and Stereophonics, one of those nights indeed. Otherwise Lovecraft in fine form despite Bens absence. Last nights Star and Garter Smile Party with up and coming discotechnicians ROGER flew by just like that. Thanks to those who bought CDs, dont forget to email me re the new album promos [I forgot my lists, again]. Best of VPx

British Sea Power

The VP support gig with Britsh Sea Power just confirmed for their Leeds Show at Joseph Wells on Thursday 20th November.BSP's Remember Me single one of the genuine class A highlights of recent times, the gig's sold out, expect VP onstage early, if you want to come along I have a limited number of guest passes, just let me know. Overt and out VPx

New Review

Stumbled across this new review of Growing up with VP courtesy of the acclaimed northern hipster alliance that is THIS IS NOT TV check out www.thisisnottv.co.uk which, it must be said, is pretty much on the money maker. Nice one Adam. Release date is 16th Feb 04, pre orders to me in the meantime will attract some unusual rare stuff giveaways. There's know how, VPx <"growing up with ..."> Just as this month finds me buffing up the silverware of my contribution toward TINTV's end of year round up, the task gets made complicated by the arrival of a new Vinny Peculiar album. I discovered the joys of Mr Peculiar at the very start of this year with his 2002 "Ironing The Soul" album, a record that would have definitely been found duking it out big style with Danko Jones for last years album of the year had I heard about it that little bit earlier. It would have been the full works. WWE style. Hardcore. Tables, ladders and chairs, the lot and I dare say that there's a good chance that Vinny would have emerged the blooded victor, his wily subtlety beating their brute strength. Well this year I'm left with that exact same problem, "Growing Up…" arriving just as Danko's "We Sweat Blood" was reaching for the belt and displaying all the versatility of "Superfly" Jimmy Snuka. But away with the wrestling approximations, they are no good for anyone. The same, however cannot be said for this album, which should be nestled in every CD rack, musical curriculum and radio station in the land and is a supreme credit to the man who gave to birth to it. I only hope that I can find enough complimentary adjectives in my pocket to do it justice. "Growing up with…" glows with a slow burning charm from the outset, "I Work For God" offering a shimmering glimpse of life within Heaven's call centre and leading you easily toward the deep running appeal of the rest of the album. It takes a snaking path through the progression of a life strewn with awkward crumbly moments, the paint peeling from every tumbledown recollection and humour spilling from each deftly crafted lyrical shuffle. "Confessions of a Sperm Donor" touches, with a strange warmth, upon the potential parental responsibilities of cracking one off for "bus fare", the communal imagery painted by "Replica Shirt" almost makes me wish I liked football and "Punk Rock Dreaming" is Luke Haines minus the lemon sucking. The dark, smutted angles of youth gone astray and communities in disarray are also dipped into with a neat incisiveness. "We Tried to Drown Our Music Teacher In 1974" brings to life the murky youthful plot against a pop hating tutor, "Root Mull" tells of the small town confusion regarding a mysterious spate of graffiti and "Everlasting Teenage Bedroom" brings back the heady days of illicit porn stashes and loud music, which goes to prove that some things you can never grow out of. The gently picked sentimental Pulp-isms of closer "Egg Incident", the gossipy local paper tale of a teen yob egging, rounds off the album with a soft lick of muttered eloquence. Add the fact that Vinny tosses all these enchanting chunks of life at you in a musical style that, whilst branded with it's very own defined mark, displays all the observational wit and brilliance of every three minute pop troubadour you could care to mention (except that bloke from Starsailor) and you have gold plated, jewel encrusted masterpiece. He has created a deep, skewed and personal album that you could live inside for months and if there is any justice in this world by the end of next year he should be as popular with the masses as swearing. www.thisisnottv.co.uk

Surfs Up

Just home from the scenic hamlet of Braunton in deepest Devon where I failed to beat the Tom Hingley visitors tea drinking record by a lousy 3 cups, still, I'm not bitter. Many thanks to Nick and Julie for the hospitality and to the surfer dudes at the gig I salute your work ethic with jealousy. What a cool place to hang. And yes I'll be back try stopping me. Back home feels like drugery and slow motion and beyond reasonable reason then again it is Sunday and they kill more men than bombs according to Bukowski, who I've not read in ages. I have read and can recommend Michael Houellebecq, the French sexestentialist. I feel Atomised. Totally. I play Liverpool on Wednesday, VPx

Ego confession

More promos to go as we burn the REPLICA SHIRT radio edits into shape on Mr Cowell's monster mega biter. Everything is almost ready but never quite. Now I have recovered from the the beer basting it's back to grinding out the stones. My girls getting me a magnet therapy bracelet for my gay hands which grow stiff in cold weather, I saw a specialist who couldn't suss it. What's going on? I have a soft spot for The Darkness, can't help it. Next time I go to the cinema I will wear a bithday raincoat, any film will do. Until then it's pretty much over and outside the rain blows and the wind pours and the cars die, all alone and without roads they are nothing. Nothing, and it's 10 years since we recorded EGO CONFESSION which means nothing to most but something to some, still, you know who you are and I send you my love, VPx