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In
hindsight this album marked the beginning of the end for the band,
or at least for myself and Quimberry. On the one hand he, being
a mere hired hand, had wanted to record an album he'd written about
John the Baptist of all people, and he'd taken to isolating himself
from the rest of the band, spending interminable amounts of time
in an isolation tank - even during the shooting of the video for
the single "Fuzzy Cup" he remained locked away in there.
With bongos. Relations had definitely taken a turn for the worse
between the two alpha males in the group. Thankfully not so between
myself and the two gals where relations I daresay hardened. And
yet….
Despite
the fissures this was to prove our most successful album. As I've
said before I always encouraged the antagonistic and openly hostile
approach to band politics in the belief that the magic would be
set free - this, if proof were needed, was the proof. It was with
my express consent that I allowed Quimberry so much time in isolation
and I still feel we managed to squeeze that little extra out of
him at a time when he could be squeezed no more - witness the stunning
triangle break towards the end of the explosive "Fuzzy Cup".
THC decided to run with this track as the opening single though
there were problems trying to achieve a clean, radio-friendly edit
- sadly it ended up almost sans vocals. I wanted originally to film
the entire album but THC mindful of the financial constraints chose
to allow us just the one stab at video. Whilst we all, as individuals,
were comfortable performing, the video shoot tested our ability
to breaking-point. It was cold, it was wet and outside it was raining
heavily that January. I had drunk just about as much from the fuzzy
cup as I could possibly drink. Any more drinking and I would have
been incapable of speech. Neither Emma nor Imogen were complaining
although numbness had long since set in before we finally got the
desired take. Quimberry I'm sure was happy enough thinking his little
thoughts in his tank, emerging as he did buzzing with creativity
on the journey home. Ideas spilled forth and I was forced to slap
him to calm him down and remind him that the shoot had finished
some hours before. I believe he may not have fully understood the
reasons for this unusual behaviour but by that time I was incapable
of any tongue movement at all never mind speech. The girls weren't
around to witness this violence thank heavens - apparently they
were too emotionally drained to travel back with us that night.
The
video was not the end of the fuzzy farce. We very nearly wet ourselves
(thankfully the video had done no long-term damage in that department)
when we received a letter from the BBC asking us to appear on children's
flagship programme "Blue Peter". Whilst most of us had
grown up watching the show, even we, as broadminded adults, felt
that children were not perhaps the best audience for our sex-rock,
THC targeting us at the slightly soiled adult market. A gig is a
gig though and having all been children once we felt honoured, finally,
to have been asked. On the day of recording, which was live, remember,
Emma, in the spirit of things covered both nipples with Blue Peter
badges. Even Quimberry had requested a triangle in the shape of
the bookcases the show was famous for - complete with miniature
books. I decided that we should pull no punches save that the girls
skirts were longer than usual - even we baulking at displaying oral
sex at 5pm on a Monday afternoon just after John Craven's Newsround.
(Strangely John Craven chose not to include the story in his newsround
the next day but I'm certain he watched it) We lasted 10 seconds
before the BBC apparently lost power in Studio 3 and I'm told the
producer suffered a heart attack - I'm unsure though whether or
not the two were linked. In hindsight I'm certain that the BBC have
shifted their focus in light of those events, discovering as they
did the sheer numbers of men watching supposedly children's television
at that time of day.
The
single rocketed to number 18 in the UK (at least that's what THC
told us, in my local record store I could find no mention of us
on the chart - perhaps we had become the new Sex Pistols?) on the
back of some quite hysterical reporting in the papers. The Europeans
loved us though and the band were staggered and gob smacked to find
ourselves at Number One in the Netherlands - THC having been pushing
both single and video hard on adult only channels. Even in the normally
conservative USA we reached no. 24 on the English Folk Chart (affiliated
to Billboard no less). All this on the back of virtually no airplay,
no gigs and one appearance on a children's TV show watched, we were
led to understand, by the English middle-classes only. Soft underbelly
now exposed. Job done.
On
the back of this success we undertook a tongue-testing, twat-numbing
tour of the UK and Europe. We played gigs in places we'd never heard
of and finally said our thanks to the people of Papua New Guinea
for the success of our previous album "Shitfaced and Comotose".
Then we decided to tour the States. A nationwide tour was planned
beginning with 2 nights at the Grand Ol' Opry in some hell-hole
in the South. We, or rather, I, lasted less than 2 songs when I
was shot. Ha! So much for Land of the Free. I was taken to hospital
with gunshot wounds just inches from my cock whilst the rest of
the band were imprisoned overnight for their own protection. The
gig had become the focus of a month-long campaign to rid the US
of we "immoral English" and hundreds had turned up intent
on ruining the event. That they succeeded shames the peoples of
America. As a band we took a decision there and then (Emma casting
my vote by proxy, me being in hospital under armed guard) never
to return there.
After
the success of Fuzzy Cup, THC opted to release the next track "Honeyfuckle"
as a single. To avoid the anticipated hoohah over the title two
versions were released, one with the standard spelling and the other
substituting the "offending" f in honeyfuckle for and
old English s (written as an f). The success of Fuzzy Cup was not
to be repeated however. It's still one of my favourite songs on
the album not least because of its inspiration - Emma finally beginning
to emerge as main co-writer. "Cherry Popper" followed
- another Moonproof/Snowstorm number. Once again vocals from the
heart and much further south from the melodic ear of Emma. The success
of this album was in no small part down to Emma's ability to write
catchy tunes and making the listener feel as if they had truly experienced
something deeply erotic. "Bootlicker" followed in the
same vein, Imogen's bizarre fetish lyrics adding much to the bass
rumble and screaming vocal. But this was a much less aggressive
song than Imogen had planned - a 5th verse concerning licking the
boots of Nazi war criminals was abandoned on legal advice. Imogen
did try to re-write it and have Goebels as main protagonist but
we felt as a band it lacked the necessary sexual clout. Instead
we opted to give Imogen an extended solo, the results of which are
hauntingly throbbing."Ring" was primarily a Quimberry
composition, being the overture to his version of Richard Wagner's
Ring Cycle. I felt that this may prove a little too bombastic and
would stretch the band too far. Lyrically I was buggered if I was
going to sing his attempted German translation and opted, from bitter
personal experience, to sing of the problems we all suffer from
time to time with our own rings. Despite what has subsequently passed
between the two of us I am eager to hear his completed version of
the Ring Cycle - Tannhauser with glockenspiel piques my curiosity
indeed. "Tongue Twister" was the girls song included to
keep the peace after one too many live renditions of "Fuzzy
Cup". This was to be one of the rare occasions when the girls
got together to write their own material. Fortunately for fans this
album includes 2 such meetings of mind, the aforesaid and "Thank
The Lord I'm A Cocksucker" - their thanks for having been born
female - girl power long before the term was even considered, and
this on an album by a band considered evil by feminists. If girls
want to suck cock - let us rejoice, let us give thanks, and more
importantly let's give them backstage passes. The girls had their
way of winding down post gig and the boys had theirs - vive la difference!"The
Bearded Clam" and "Shit Under My Foreskin" were both
penned by myself and both were semi-autobiographical in lyric. Not
much to add save that the gist of the former was that I am no great
lover of shaven ladies, and the latter that I am loathe to use the
tradesmen's entrance when the painters are in.The album closes with
yet another bizarre Quimberry composition - "Fish Supper's
Ready". Once again he had in mind a full 8 part classic, but
with "The Bearded Clam" proving a better song (even if
Quimberry had little to do with its recording) and clocking in at
over 11 minutes, there was insufficient space to include the whole
Fish supper's ready opus. Quimberry was naturally disappointed,
obviously more so than the remainder of the band, but a full version
WAS recorded, as he well knew and did appear in live sets and can
be found, I believe, on a bootleg - "Rare but well done".
Regarding
bootlegs - the more the merrier. There are some artists who seem
to exist only to make as much money as possible, for Ganja Force
it was the drugs and the exposure (in that order) and artistic integrity
that mattered - so losing out to some spiv with a tape recorder
was no big deal, provided they came to the next gig they sorted
us out with some decent blow - drugs or oral sex - it didn't matter.The
only track on the album I haven't mentioned is our version of ELP's
version of Fanfare For The Common Man - as fans of the live shows
will know - this was our intro tape for many a year. In an attempt
at injecting some of the feel of a live show into this recording
we tried many things - Quimberry not turning up even when booked,
Emma trying to rip people's trousers down with her teeth proclaiming
herself to be a huge fan, Imogen flogging shite t-shirts, and myself
crying off with a broken wrist - when we finally discussed the idea
we chose to perform our own version of this American classic. The
result, as one critic described, it was "experi-mental".THC
were eager to repeat the unimaginable success of this album, but
as I lay wounded in an American hospital, the seeds of failure were
being sown. It would be three years before the next Ganja Force
recording…
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DRINKING
FROM THE FUZZY CUP (THC10)