- Final Upload of the “Father” Session
The Idiots – Track 3 from the “Father” Session
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The Idiots – Track 3 from the “Father” Session
Right. that’s that for today, now it’s back to carving bridges and trying to get a sound out of a Chinese violin and a German pickup.
The Idiots – “Idiot Falls” from the “Father” Session
As you will hear, they were way ahead of their time – The more I listen, the more I think that the lyrics must have been written after some wild premonitions!
The 3 tracks that were recorded apart from “Father” are live takes, if I remember right. I’ve beefed this a lot, squashing the dynamics, please consider it a “laptop speakers master” 🙂
The Idiots – “Rekcollector” from the “Father” Session
The swine post has been the most popular on this blog so far, and it’s great to see so many people with such fond memories of the band, plus we’ve been honoured by John’s presence here on the comments and also by Seamus over on Fanning Sessions.
Hope you enjoy.
On a fateful Friday in June of 1997, after legislation was unanimously passed in Dáil and Seanad Éireann, a referendum changed Bunreacht Na hÉireann and banned the judging of by appearances forever.
While initially this may have seemed like a marvellous advance for society, unfortunately it backfired by giving rise to an immense and unforeseen arrogance that swept unforbearing across the country. Many ugly swine began to appear in the national media, they obtained work as important public figures such as doctors, dentists and bank managers. Being an ugly swine came to be considered healthy as they obtained positions in important state departments and ultimately as leader of the aforementioned Dáil Éireann.
As the stricken country slowly awakens from this nightmare, some may look to the past and blame this song. However, it should be noted that the simultaneous introduction of mobile telephony meant that by the year 2000 there was no longer any need anyway for the ugly swine to sit at home by the phone.
In the authors opinion this was also a major contributing factor to social change as it became acceptable to sit in transited places, bars, cafés, or indeed outside in parks, with a telephone in full public view, – as if to say. “He’s about to call… he’s about to call….”
The Song that started it all
Bull – Ugly Swine
Disclaimer: Certain happenings mentioned in this review article may or may not have taken place in your own personal version of reality.
The Joys were a hard working band tipped for the big time, in the days when one used to crash out on the studio sofa for a couple of hours at 6am, before the day living would turn up and violate the tranquillity of the dawn.
Or sometimes we’d say fuck it and go and drink pints in the Globe until they would put on that 1Khz tone at ten to eleven to make us all go round the other side to Rí-Rá, and we would bitch and swear, but we’d go anyway and we’d go back the next night too. We’d rant and share what was in our hearts and in our pockets. I was all confused, disillusioned with honesty, wrapped up twisted, implosively in love with so many things and surrounded by beautiful souls, many of them manifest as extremely intriguing women.
Cormac got the pints in and said he wouldn’t worry about it.
And then didn’t The Joys fade away too, and Junkster came into view, and with a deal and a ticket to soon be the next U2, it was off to a studio in upstate New York or some place with them, never to quite make it back. If we can give thanks for anything in this new century, let it be the demise of the record companies, and mouldy auld cassettes in attics of course.
This is for you, crazy little man in a leather jacket. Regretful, sad bytimes that you had to bale so early for the last bus, yet happy in hoping that you found all is well there on the other side, and hey, get some sleep this time, eh? we’ll catch ya later. abrazo. K
I was intensely depressed, on and off, for a number of days after this recording. It was Emily’s first Christmas and we lived in a house in Dalkey with an amazing view of the island and the sea.
Christmas morning I think, It was typically chilly, the house was ancient and precious, and I went to get some clothes.
The door of the above section of the old hotpress had a habit of swinging open and as I stood up and whacked my head off of it, in a rage I slammed it shut. This resulted in a rain of broken glass down on top of me and Emily’s clothes. In that moment I realised that something more was wrong than the typical exhaustion of numerous days and nights in the studio.
I had been deeply affected by listening to this song repeatedly during 3 days.
At that time I cared very very much about the lining up of the 24 track and the lifting of the guitars while not masking the vocals and the getting the bass to sit well and the noise reduction and the levels to tape and the umf off of the kick and the gating of the hats out of the snare and the automating the mutes on the channels for the keeping of the noise floor as low as possible and all that, and then, really, you know..
There were times when it all became “audio material” or some such and it was no longer music.
What had happened to me was that I had spent a considerable amount of time listening to a song about child abuse without reacting emotionally to what I was hearing:
No wonder you suffer
I’m not surprised
under the covers
you’ve been denied.
Everything you thought was real
becomes a lie.
The consequences were, exponentially monumental.
The Idiots – Father