about expletive undeleted

MAYBE you don’t really appreciate anything until it’s gone.

The ones that got away are the ones that do your head in, whether it’s the shoes you inexplicably lose at that mad wedding in Burnley or the most beautiful girl in the world deciding she isn‘t actually that interested, come to think of it.

For some of us, however, it is losing Flux of Pink Indians’ seminal jazz-punk concept album, The Fucking Cunts Treat Us Like Pricks.

It’s those long-lost records which concern us here. You’ll have to handle the other stuff yourself (although I can recommend a good shoe shop in Brighton).

We’re talking about the weird, the obscure, the strange and the stupid – mostly; the records that nobody has ever heard of, except, of course, you and your daft bloody mates. You go years without thinking about them; you don’t even know you’ve lost them until you decide that you have to listen to, say, that LP of biker movie music Blast First put out in 1987.

Ass-kicking ten-minute psyche-funk freak-outs! Bizarre dialogue from obscure exploitation flicks! Savage Pencil picture disc! Steve Albini liner notes!

And then you remember that ten days short of Giro day sometime in 1989 you sold it, for a pittance, to Nosferatu the Record Dealer who lived around the corner, thinking that it’d be easy enough to pick up again once you were flush at some undetermined point in the future.

Newsflash: It’s not that easy.

Even worse, there are The Tunes That Just Aren’t There Anymore, the Disappeared of the vinyl world; you haven’t a clue what happened to them, or where they are, only that they’re gone, leaving just a memory and absolute, cold, dark silence. Maybe, somewhere along the M62, those records were abducted by some strange vinyl lifeform and even now are being subjected to hideously invasive surgical procedures on the other side of the universe.

Or maybe they’re just in the big pile of punk, indie, techno and hardcore tunes I left – for ages, admittedly – at my ex-landlady’s place in Harehills. She moved out and I never saw her again. Or they could be in the box of records nicked from Kenny’s car after that birthday party in Hyde Park.

Actually, I do have an idea where most of my missing records ended up: they’re scattered around the suburbs of Leeds, you robbing bastards.

Now I doubt anyone who has got this far will be too concerned – you’ve obviously got problems yourself, or at the very least, way too much time on your hands – but at this point I should remind those of a dull and unimaginative disposition that you are about to enter a world where dusty old records that hardly anyone bought in the first place, and no one remembers or cares about, assume critical, paramount, all-encompassing importance.

I have no real sense of proportion when it comes to this kind of stuff. And I’ve lost loads of records over the years.

Some people have children and some people collect stamps. Others do heroin or strangle animals. I buy records.

I do a bit of DJing (don’t we all? Celebrity dogs DJing, that’s what I‘m waiting for) but in all honesty, I’d buy loads of records anyway, whether I had anyone to play them at or not. I’ve got a habit, but unlike many junkies, I don’t even pretend I want to kick it.

Sure, I’ve got a monkey on my back but, y’know, he’s wearing a fez and a waistcoat and I kinda like having him around. He may not be particularly attractive to the ladies, he’s expensive to feed and he weighs a fucking ton but he knows how to work a dancefloor and he’s always up for a party.

I don’t want your sympathy. This is not a cry for help and it’s not some online rough-cut of a wannabe Nick Hornby book of stupid lists – this is my reality and I’m very happy here, thanks.

Think of it as a Lost & Found column: the ones that got away, the tunes that got lost, stolen or flogged, what they meant to me at the time, how I lost them, how I got them back again and what they sound like now.

Add some old and new interviews and a few other bits and pieces and that’s about it, really.

There is profanity, there are descriptions of secondhand record shops, some names have been changed to protect the guilty. James Last might make an appearance.

It’s probably not for everyone.

[Mail to expletiveundeleted at yahoo dot co dot uk]

Advertisements

13 responses to “about expletive undeleted

  1. ‘Think on’ is a lovely expression.

  2. undeleted

    Happen .. x

  3. You know Hip Replacement, I wish I had a good record collection, there is a lot of interesting stuff out there.

    I was looking at some of the old Chicago House music. With the right speakers and atmosphere they could definitely make a party hop all night.

    I was watching a documentary on Chicago house and it was saying how House really caught on in the UK more so than in America. It was mainly started within the black community here and in Detroit. Also Gospel music is from Chicago from what I understand.

    Do you have a really impressive record collection?

  4. undeleted

    Yes, I have a fantastically impressive record collection JR.

    But we’re moving to a new house soon and it’s a good deal less impressive when you have to carry it up and down three flights of stairs.

    Anyway, I have to go and play some of my fantastically impressive record collection at a party now, so I may return to this later ..

    Thanks for the comment!

  5. I reworked Chicago Withdrawal to focus on more diverse subject matters.

    My new blog is Mind of J.R. The new blog looks the same as the old one for now. I’m looking for a new header design and possibly a better template.

    Doesn’t look like I will make it to Europe this summer.

  6. undeleted

    New blog is looking good JR, though I think you should give Franktown more shit .. only joking, you couldn’t possibly give him more shit. I do think you should do more drunk posting though, just as a general rule. Commenting on other people’s blogs drunk is a big speciality of mine. It’s a lot of fun.

    Godammit JR, you’re not coming over to Europe this summer? Fuck! I will have to let all my mates know that the guy from the internet will not now be available for child-minding duties. I’m sure they will be very disappointed but screw them, they didn’t take you up on your very generous offer when they had the chance. Their loss.

    Until next time JR ..

  7. Rescued comments from old site:

    Blanco di Blanc // February 22, 2008 at 5:58 pm | Reply (edit)

    Yes. Welcome to my empty.

    Lovely stuff…
    #

    undeleted // February 22, 2008 at 6:08 pm | Reply (edit)

    Fill up your empty with my full – but no emptying it, mind.

    Welcome to the anti-club Bianco.

    Well weapon, yeah?
    #

    Blanco di Blanc // February 23, 2008 at 10:30 am | Reply (edit)

    Mind half empty: spleen half full. Totally weapon…forthrightly righteous…blindingly insightful…catatonically self-conscious…sensitively violent. Forever airport…satori is nothing, yez??
    #

    undeleted // April 3, 2008 at 10:38 am | Reply (edit)

    Step away from the computer.
    #

    Waka // June 2, 2009 at 7:36 pm | Reply (edit)

    Know what u mean. Just been going through my collection to put a complitation tape together for a friend {yes still making mixtapes…} and found many empty sleeves. Dont know where theses records have disappeared….but it does my head in…
    #

    undeleted // July 20, 2009 at 1:44 pm | Reply (edit)

    TruFax

  8. Simon Keegan

    Hello Mr Undeleted
    I never thought the chairman of the luddites would get a blog…
    Rude Kid
    xxx

  9. Simon! How’s tricks? How the hell did you find your way here?

  10. The secret to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources.

  11. What exactly is that supposed to mean, you cheeky cunt?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s