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Finally
emerging some 3 years after our previous effort, Hamlet was an ambitious
triple album. Following my shooting on the "Fuzzy Cup"
tour, Quimberry took it upon himself to direct this album and the
subsequent downward direction of Ganja Force's career. He had seized
the moment and had pounced on a shell-shocked Emma and Imogen, persuading
them that rather than release what I'd provisionally pencilled in
as next album (Fuzzy Cup 2 : A Hair In The Gate) he recounted a
vision he'd "received" whilst in his isolation tank namely
Hamlet. Not only that but he wanted a whole 6 sides devoted to Shakespeare's
questionable classic (I mean how many times does your dad's mate
knock him off and then start knocking off your mum? And then your
own girlfriend goes mad and tops herself? Never I should think.)
After some extremely violent exchanges and upon my release from
hospital a compromise was reached - a truncated 2 sides of Hamlet
and each band member being given a side to show off their creative
talents (or lack of, Quim). Thus it was that an album that should
have capitalised on the phenomenal success of "Fuzzy Cup"
(written mostly by my good self I might add) was instead followed
up with an album primarily written by the band's percussionist!
I
was reluctant even to include anything of my own on what I viewed
as a potential stinker of a record. My only contribution being "Bastard
Stepfather From Hell" and even that was divided into two parts
against my wishes, and the heavy "Hecate, My Nightmare"
(oh, how I wish I'd had the foresight to rename that gem Hamlet,
my Nightmare instead). And a minor credit for an unusual bum-note
in the middle 8 of Queen of Denmark. Given that almost the entire
album was recorded in a little over 48 hours after THC ran out of
patience, a duff note was hardly surprising.With Hecate my Nightmare
I wanted to register, musically, my disgust at having been usurped
by Quimberry. Not only that, I wanted Quimberry to feel my disgust
at every turn. Having done some heavy speeding one night I succumbed
to a bout of diarrhoea. Blinded by rage, I decided to add some out-of-this-world,
and more specifically, out-of-my-arse, bongo to my opus. We'd long
since, as a band, opted for maximum comfort during recording so
the hammock from which I duly dropped my load onto his percussion
was most serendipitously placed. Bizarrely, it didn't need that
much tweaking afterwards, in terms of fitting with Hecate's time
signature, being as there was, no specific time signature. The results
are truly frightening, making this side of Hamlet, not only indispensable,
but also downright evil.
For
the year or so we spent, once again, at The Outer Yertree House
(only this time we'd remembered to arrange accommodation on site),
it speaks volumes that virtually nothing of the Hamlet sides was
recorded, rather each member working independently on their own
side. That's not strictly true I suppose - Emma & Imogen seeking
out my creative companionship (and stash), whilst Quimberry spent
even more time isolated in brine. If I recall, the reason THC lost
patience was when, after 12 months, the only thing of note that
had been recorded was Mama Weer All Crazee Now (and even that was
just the chorus laid down by the girls and I and aimed squarely
at Isolation Tank Man). Fed up of bailing us out financially they
gave us an ultimatum - either record the album inside a week or
they would release what they had. As an incentive they bankrolled
us a shedload of drugs. There's nothing quite like the prospect
of imminent public humiliation to moisten the creative flow. Apart
from the drugs obviously.
And
so, in a mobile recording studio tethered to a caravan in Rhyl we
got shitfaced for 5 days solid. Then we remembered the album. Imogen
invited me to sit in as she recorded "Smoky Bacon" and
it's a toss-up as to which is the more beautiful - this or Emma's
"I feel ya, Ophelia" (another session I sat in on). Whilst
my own composition reeked of anger (and Quimberry's of shite) the
girls opted for love. But then they always did. Big love. I believe
Imogen surpassed her own legendary blowing on "Smoky Bacon"
leaving one with the distinct impression of having spent a lifetime
in a bar in Berlin during the 1930's (although without the diseases.
Or Nazis. That I was most insistent on - Imogen, as mentioned previously
had/has an almost unhealthy obsession with Nazis. Especially their
boots.)Emma, in choosing to go with Quimberry's Hamlet theme, honed
in on its most tragic figure, Ophelia. Foregoing the anticipated
treatment of her (Ophelia's) sanity, she instead, with customary
skill, focussed on her sexual appetite. And hugely erotic it is
too, almost devoid of instrumentation (Ophelia herself had to make
do with her own self, Emma figured she should too - what a gal)
making the most of multi-layered vocals - like a sexed up Enya only
really dirty.It's a toss-up, as I've mentioned, as to which of these
efforts comes out on top in an otherwise forgettable album. Some
nights I'll toss and turn and Emma will come out on top. Other nights
Imogen. And on still other nights my own labours triumph.
I
cannot leave a recollection of this album without first mentioning
Quimberry's Bongo Meditations - 20+ minutes of bongo (some still
covered from my hammock endeavours which he bravely pretended not
to notice) and nothing else, not even canvassing my own opinion
on whether or not just a tad extra percussion might invite the listener
in - opting to leave the listener isolated, damn that tank. Different
strokes I suppose (and according to the girls his strokes were most
definitely different).
The
album closes with us returning once more to Hamlet. Strangely it
almost worked. "Everyone Dies" seeing the band in unison
almost, each assigned just the one note to do as we would rising
to an awesome crescendo and culminating in a wall of noise. The,
now complete, Mama Weer All Crazee Now rounded off the album, but
not before Quimberry added his only truly decent contribution in
the form of a spectacularly questioning "ting". If just
for that one note, we caught a glimpse of his ability and the band's
ability to keep the listener glued to their seat right until the
very end. That dénouement was to prove, however, a false
dawn - Quimberry immediately returning to his old ways and that
bloody isolation tank. Whilst I don't doubt that, in terms of inspiration,
it aided him (and occasionally the band) tremendously, it would
have been nice to have recalled the golden days and have the whole
band mixing juices together, as we'd done for several years on the
road. If it hadn't been for the tireless efforts of Kezzie Hoolbanger
(once more we were in her debt) I dread to think. She, without question,
took it upon herself, to release me from the constant demands of
Imogen and Emma. Bless you, Kezzie! The girls enjoyed it too, but
not as much as an in-form Quimberry/Moonproof session.
Quimberry,
not content with directing the album's content, then won the battle
for design. He insisted that to release the album on CD would undermine
the flow (a sentiment I found myself in agreement with, but by the
end of that amphetamine-fuelled week in Rhyl I was ready to agree
with just about anything) and that only a triple vinyl release would
do. Triple albums necessitate gatefold sleeves and this, he argued,
should be no exception. Tired, and in no mood to speak, let alone
argue, I found myself on a beach somewhere in North Wales in a velvet
dress portraying God alone knows who, Quimberry as Hamlet, Emma
as Ophelia and Imogen as a German torch singer, Gertrude, in jack-boots,
being photographed for the pop-up montage that would constitute
the gatefold. And then there was the album title farce - Quimberry
feeling deeply self-satisfied had submitted the master to THC with
a hand-written title which was transcribed on final release as "Hamlet,
Queen of Denmark". The sexually-ambiguous sleeve photography
induced THC to believe that the title should perhaps have been transcribed
Queer as opposed to Queen and a very limited number were pressed
with that title. In the meantime I had ordered the band to rest
and to remain incommunicado in Thailand. Oddly, Quimberry did not
bring his tank with him and for a while it was almost like old times
- we even managed to fit in a few live shows (although the hotel
manager asked us to leave following an impromptu rendition of "Fuzzy
Cup" in the foyer) which went down well with the Brits, the
US Marines, and the occasional bemused Bangkok chick-boy. THC, unable
to contact us after being forcibly removed by hotel security and
holing up in a brothel, erred on the side of caution (not wishing
to offend the gay community. Or academics. Or both) and issued the
final pressing as simply "Hamlet, of Denmark". I have
read in interviews with Quimberry since that he maintains the original
title to be correct if the play is read from the viewpoint of a
9th Century Mayan Priest. People, listen! - by all means take drugs,
just never do isolation tanks. OK?
The
album, having proved hideously expensive to record and package,
bombed. Within weeks THC had re-released it without the sleeve's
finery at a mid-range price, but with little joy. From Big Cheeses
to Ginormous Tossers within 3 years, and all because of some crazed
American gunman, and a mad drummer with a fascination for isolation
in brine. Victims, indeed, of our own success. I haven't listened
to this album in over 4 years in its entirety, and having to recall
its birth for this website has been more painful than I could ever
have imagined.
This
was just about the end of the road for Ganja Force, despite being
contractually obliged to provide THC with one more album. But a
tragedy even greater than Hamlet, was about to befall the band.
A tragedy which not all of us would survive.
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HAMLET,
QUEEN OF DENMARK (THCGF1)