24 April 2006

I have no interest in your ringtone, you slag.

Today, I find myself in a tiny office staffed by some outrageously thick chav 'ladies'. The high-pitched shrill blasted out of their flabby, fake-tanned faces is enough to make me wish I was unemployed and sleeping rough in a piss-drenched wheelie bin. The foulness of my labour will hopefully be blown away with a slightly unusual Bomb Factory gig tonight.

The second, and most probably last, acoustic display rocks a pub in a shite village near St Ives. I'm on bass and Mills is on guitar but we're refusing to play quietly -we're hooking up a distortion pedal each and will be sticking everything through amps turned up as much as our ears can stand. It will be 20 minutes of shambolic noise. Excellent.

Ron returns soon so normal Bomb Factory makes a comeback in May. No more poncey wooden music for us, it's electric sledgehammer feedback from now on. Keep em peeled you bastards.


  1. David4:19 pm

    Last night was fun. It contained no musical merit but it was great to dish out waves of feedback to an unsuspecting room of village booze hounds.Our 10 second cover of She's Lost Control bore no resemblence to the original and the majority of the set was just noise. Afterwards, Jack got ridiculously drunk and a welshman said we were like a "fork to the gut."

    Job done.

  2. Ranting Jack1:28 pm

    I wasn't "ridiculously" drunk. Just "very". Anyway, if people offer, actually volunteer, to buiy you beer it would be rude and churlish to turn them down.

    Someone was overheard during the set saying we were dying on our arses. This of course wrongly assumes we gave a fuck. Thought we pulled it around nicley at the end though - God Loves Us was particularly menacing methinks.

  3. david5:31 pm

    My plan to hide my lack of bass ability with walls of feedback worked well. The Welshman added "Sonic Youth eat your heat out"



  4. david5:32 pm

    * heart