When I was about 15, I went into Vinyl Exchange in Manchester. It was the first time I’d gone record shopping in a city after cutting my teeth in my local (and brilliant) X Records. Unaided and green, after a fruitless search amongst the racks, I went up to the counter and asked “Excuse me, do you have The Palace of Gilded Sin by The Burritos?” I was quickly met with “The Gilded Palace of Sin - The Flying Burrito Brothers. Classic. I can’t believe you don’t own it already.” And so, my 15 year-old self met Sneering Record Shop Man for the first time.
Despite my anger (I mean, I was 15 and asking for a great record that should have been met with ‘Jeez! That’s an excellent choice… lemme fish it out for you and give you some more tips like this… you’re only young and buying stuff like this? There’s hope for us yet!’) I didn’t let it put me off going into the belly of muso-ville (although in fairness, I’ve never stepped foot in Vinyl Exchange since) and I soon found out that Sneering Record Shop Man wasn’t the property of one place.

Continue reading »

Posted by mofgimmers on Monday April 7th, 2008 at 2:29 pm

Now, I’m a pretty tall bloke. 6 foot and 4 inches to be precise. However, I’ve developed this slump, so when I go to gigs people can still watch the band. However, not all lankies are that considerate. Some of them are evil enough to grow big hair or wear big hats.
Of course, anyone of average or below average height is guaranteed to see nothing but silhouette, which is a bit rubbish if you’ve paid a tenner upwards to watch your fave band. Now, being a long streak of urine meself, I don’t understand why more tall people don’t have a bit of consideration. Stand down the flanks or crouch a bit. Fair enough, you’re a tall strapping lad… but one of these days, someone will tilt you at a gig and you’ll have further to fall than everyone else.

Posted by mofgimmers on Monday March 10th, 2008 at 1:44 pm

Oh man. Nothing gets my goat quite like a Trustafarian. Trustafarians, usually seen at reggae club nights, or watching some live drum n’bass, can easily be identified by the fact that they have dreadlocks, are white and possibly wear trousers made from hemp. What sets them apart from other kinds of ‘farians is the fact that they’re from very middle class homes and are going on an eco-war with the help of daddy’s trust fund.
As wealthy as these Trustafarians are, they can oft be seen hovering around someone making a roll-up, and then, with like, totally groovy vibes, asking for one. You should ALWAYS say no to these spoiled bozos. They can afford a plantation of tobacco plants, so a small pouch of Drum (the yellow one of course) shouldn’t set them back too much. These little trust-funders might be skanking to some socially conscious world music / hip-hop now… but they’ll be working in insurance before they’re 30. Avoid these charlatans like the plague.

Posted by mofgimmers on Monday March 3rd, 2008 at 11:52 am

Ever seen someone on a dancefloor gettin’ their rocks off with all the co-ordination of an ostrich on a see-saw? Did you laugh at their bad dancing skills? Did you chuckle at their complete lack of shame? Well, you shouldn’t be laughing at these people… you should applaud them with thunderous rapture.
The bad dancer may not be able to jive, may not know what lindy-hopping is, hell, they might have never even have heard what BPM means. It doesn’t matter. No-one likes someone who can really dance. They’re annoying. They take it too seriously. They should move outta the way and let the bad dancers take up the floor. Without inhibitions and rhythm, the bad dancer loves to git down and don’t care ’bout watchu think. And that’s the way it should be. It’s not about posing and posturing. It’s about having fun with wild abandon.

Posted by mofgimmers on Monday February 25th, 2008 at 2:27 pm

Britpop brought us two things. Firstly, it made us, as a nation, proud of our pop again. For a brief moment in ‘95, it seemed like we’d inherited the earth. Then Menswear and Strangelove happened. The second thing, and probably the longest lasting of Britpop’s legacies, is The Lad. Even though Britain has grown up a fair bit (read: desperate to appear caring with recycling and bragging about tiny carbon footprints), in amongst all the yoghurt-weavers is a hardcore bunch still swilling Stella and shouting “‘Aaaave iiiiiiitt!”
Go to almost any gig and you’ll see some dunderhead in a laddy tee. Usually, these are Stone Roses or Oasis shirts. Hell, you might even catch an Ocean Colour Scene top! Yep. There are lads who are still locked in plastic Manc-dom, trying to ape Liam Gallagher and swaggering around like they’re simultaneously carrying two rolled up carpets and have shat their jeans. If you’ve seen Hollyoaks and you know who the Rhys character is, you’ll know the sort. Spot them in almost every pub, student union and gig… ‘aving it. For more Sonic Stereotypes, click here

Posted by mofgimmers on Monday February 18th, 2008 at 1:10 pm