We went to London last weekend and one week later I’m still completely exhausted from the drive probably because of my advanced age.  Jimi Hendrix didn’t have to worry about being 37 and tired.  Or snapping strings because he couldn’t play properly.  Great gig.  Brixton is our new home from home, although every time we go there it seems to be during the worst weather in recorded history.  The last time there was flooding on a biblical scale and people died.  This time there was flooding on a biblical scale and people died, plus we personally witnessed the aftermath of two fatal crashes.  In London we drove past a burning car on the M40.  It’s as if some higher power doesn’t want us to play in London, some mad, spiteful god who hates ska.  Fortunately for us we don’t believe in a higher power, unless you mean Elvis.  Last time we were the support band for Chris Tummings, this time we were supported by the East Park Reggae Collective who were excellen............

t.  We bought their album and can recommend it unreservedly. 

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Over seven hundred of you turned up to support our charity Halloween bash at The Picture House which turned out to be a terrific night; a big thank you to all of you from all of us.  The money we raised is going to do a lot of good in both Cambodia and Malawi, not to mention right here in Edinburgh.  We’re not sure exactly how much was raised yet but it was a great success.  Big thanks to Mystery Juice and Stanley Odd who were both fantastic.  Everyone loves Mystery Juice of course, who have been around since the Renaissance, and almost as influential, on Western Civilisation.  Stanley Odd haven’t been around as long, but their front man, Mr Dave Hook is an old friend of the band from our gigs with D.O.P.E a few years back.  They were on top form and I’m sure they are going to be huge.   Their new single is excellent.....

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We only had an hour to play but we included four new tunes.  We started the set with new tune ‘Catastrofuck’ which is our longest tune yet, over five minutes depending how quick we play it.  Also ‘Mr Undiplomatic’, ‘Home Alone’, and ‘Get Gone’.  All brand new.  One unfortunate side effect of the Halloween make up we were wearing was that within a minute it started running into our eyes and blinding us.  Some of us played almost the whole set half blind.  Murray had no such problems since he was dressed as Borat and Sam was too sensible to get his face painted before he had to play the drums for an hour.  There were many excellent costumes but the best Halloween costume had to be my mate Stevie who was dressed like Freddie Mercury in the video for ‘I Want to Break Free’, complete with stockings and hoover.  They made him check his hoover into the cloakroom though.  Thanks to the stage invaders too, some people just get so excited they can’t help themselves.  

Hi there.  Before we start, I’d like to talk a little bit about forgiveness.  I was asked recently why I have the title ‘Reverend’ before my name.  Was it because of my saint-like patience, my aura of spiritual calm, my endless sermonising or that I have disciples who follow me around and hang on my every word?  No it’s none of these things, although these are all true.  It’s actually because of my endless capacity for forgiveness.  For instance, you might think that having my Gibson Les Paul stolen whilst gigging in Aberdeen last week would make me bitter and twisted, but you would be wrong.  I exist on a higher plane.  Who cares about a bit of wood with some bits of metal and plastic?  I‘m not interested in physical things; guitars, money, cars, these are just things.  I’m motivated by more spiritual, less tangible concerns such as honour, discipline, and living by a strong moral and ethical code.   I will admit that if I ever find out who stole my guitar, in cold blood I would brutally fuck-murder the son of a bitch, force his screaming remains into tin cans and fire them straight into the nearest supernova.  Apart from that, I’m cool, and I forgive.

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On to more pressing matters.  You may have noticed that we have been pretty much all over Scotland this summer.  We just finished a marathon run of festival appearances, culminating in our third appearance at the Knockengorroch festival, which was a belter as usual.  We played the Eden festival, the West End festival, Kelburn Garden Party, the Outsider festival, the Linkylea festival, the Fringe by the Sea, the Wickerman festival and the Wizard festival, all of them brilliant.  I worked it out; it was just less than two thousand miles in total I believe, which is fair bit to drive.  But it’s all just been building up to the next gig, which is much closer to home; slap bang in the middle of Edinburgh in fact.  Our first appearance in front of our home crowd since our album launch in February.   The Halloween party at The Picture House is shaping up to be the highlight gig of the year for us.  Since it’s Halloween we will be playing with the very mysterious Mystery Juice and the very odd Stanley Odd, and all proceeds will be going to charity, three charities in fact.  So not only will we all have a party, we can help improve and save lives while we do it.  That’s a win win situation. 

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What’s particularly exciting for us is that we will be trying out a bunch of new material, four new tunes in fact.  We played them at the weekend in a wee warm up show in Aviemore.  They are so new we were still working out the lyrics outside the venue. They sound good.  And fast.  Two new songs, ‘Home Alone’ and ‘Mr Undiplomatic’ are probably our fastest tunes yet which is undoubtedly going to cause moaning among the ska purists.  I remember speaking to someone from another ska band about this, who reckoned Bombskare aren’t really a ska band because we play too fast.  This genius reckoned unless it sounds like it was recorded in London in 1980 or in Jamaica in 1965 it’s not ska.  I swear, if I have to explain about Hegelian Dialectics to one more skinhead!  As far as we are concerned there are plenty of traditional ska bands around, good and otherwise.  If bands want to try mixing ska with punk, or jazz, or heavy metal, or even playing exactly like a Two-Tone band, so be it; the proof is in the pudding.  In the meantime, we’ll keep playing the way we’re playing, fast and awesome.  And anyone who doesn’t like it can ‘expletive deleted’.

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We’ve been in the studio a hell of a lot lately.  Wonderful place.  We get to record our every crazy whim and there are plenty of them.  We’ve put a couple of samples up on the Face Space of what we’ve been up to.  As mentioned before, the writing and recording of our second album is well under way now, so we’ve included a preview of what’s to come with our first draft of ‘Freedom 35’, our tribute to the Trailer Park Boys, and also because it features my stolen guitar.  Also we recorded our well-worn cover of ‘Trying to Grow a Chin’ by the great Frank Zappa, which has been lying in the vault for ages, an outtake from our first album sessions.  We hope you take them in the spirit they were intended.  And we hope the Zappa estate doesn’t sue us.

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Thanks to Douglas Robertson for the photos of Knockengorroch.  It’s an early start on Saturday so make sure you are there for 7pm.  The show will be over no later than 11pm but there will be a club afterwards.  See you all on Saturday. 

We’ve played plenty festival gigs this summer but one of the best gigs we’ve played was the Spiegel tent at the Fringe By The Sea with our chums Taking Chase.  We’ve played North Berwick loads in the past, and it’s always excellent with an amazing crowd, and this time was no exception.  It was touch and go at first whether or not we could do it; Sam and Matt were both busy with other bands.  However the Spiegel tent is such a great venue and we really wanted to do the gig, plus we get to play with Taking Chase again. 

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We broke ‘Howling Mad Vini Bonar out of the retirement home for this one, to dep for Samuel, and just pretended Matt was there.  Taking Chase were awesome as always, new tunes and everything.  My favourite is still ‘Columbo Likes The Nightlife’ which as most of you probably know, takes it’s name from the season twelve DVD of Columbo (episode eight).  Episode seven is called ‘Murder With Too Many Notes’, which coincidentally, was the first ever review of Bombskare.  I kid.  Seriously though, Taking Chase use far more notes than us.  We use four or five notes, your C’s and G’s obviously, usually quavers.  They use loads.  All kinds. Hemi demi semi quavers, semi-breves, F sharps, everything.  If I was in their band, that would be the first thing to go, the F sharps.  It’s not common knowledge but I once asked to join Taking Chase, a while back.  They said, “aren’t you that fat, bald guy with the bad attitude from Bombskare?” to which I replied no, that’s Joe.  “Aren’t you that short, fat, bald guy with the bad attitude from Bombskare?” to which I confessed, yeah that’s me.  There’s no denying it.  They just laughed at me, pityingly.   “In any case”, they said, “you break too many strings.”  It is true.  I’m barred from most guitar shops.  I don’t even play the guitars; they just vibrate with tension when I walk past.  I’m like a Ring-wraith to guitar strings. However I am not evil.  At worst, misunderstood.

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Our set comprised of the usual hits, too numerous to enumerate.  ‘Do All Dogs Go To Heaven?’ is proving to be this year’s hit, followed by ‘Freedom 35’.  You may be interested to know that both songs are in the process of being recorded, and may make an appearance, sooner rather than later.  It’s all part of Project Bombskare Second Album, which is Top Secret at the minute.  Some previews might be in order.  All in good time.   We’ll be in Aberdeen soon, and after that it’s our charity Halloween gig.  Details of that to follow. 

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Want to hear something amusing?  It seems that a new British movie starring Jennifer Connelly called ‘Creation’, which is about Charles Darwin and is about to be released worldwide, can’t find a U.S distributor because too many people in the States object to the Theory of Evolution.  Holy fuck, that’s funny!

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Apparently only forty percent of Americans believe in the Theory of Evolution, Those are the normal Americans, the ones like you and me.  There is another twenty five percent who believe in the account of creation exactly as it is in the bible, and those guys are mental.  They tend to listen to Country music and have gun racks in pick up trucks, and they don’t take kindly to strangers, no sir.  They also believe that the devil is a real person with hooves and a tail and a goatee beard.  Kind of like the wee free Presbyterians here in Scotland.  They put the mental into fundamentalist and should be avoided.  

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I can prove the Theory of Evolution right now and in one word.  Ska.  The fundamentalists say that God created Ska in 4004BC and in only six days, presumably so he could have the seventh day off to watch the Eastenders omnibus.  But that’s just not scientific.  There is no possible way that God could have created Ska in six days.  It’s just silly.  Scientists have already carbon dated The Skatalites and we know for a fact that they are over a million years old.  It’s science, stupid.  Yet when you present this evidence to the church, they simply say that God put The Skatalites here to test our faith, like dinosaur bones, and we shouldn’t think about it.  Colour me unconvinced. 

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Ska had to have evolved slowly over millions of years, probably out of some form of Rock-steady or Blue-beat, perhaps, but geologists can’t be sure.  Maybe it was reggae.  One thing is for sure; no one seriously accepts the Church’s position on this at all.  They don’t even accept that Ska exists, and are notoriously slow at catching up with scientific facts.  They condemned Galileo in 1633 for saying the Earth revolved around the Sun.  They apologised later of course.  In 1992.

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Speaking of Creation, we were at the Eden Festival in the Forest of Ae, organised by a chap called Adam.  If you were there then you know all about the fiasco getting into the place.  It’s basically a three-mile trail into the forest, but allegedly some arsehole had caused a traffic jam on site so the police stopped all the traffic on this trail while they could sort it out.  It took us over two hours to get through all the traffic which we only did by dint of being in the band.  Most punters would have probably waited much longer than that, effectively missing the first day.  Andy and I were the last to arrive from the band, about ten minutes after we were supposed to be started, but at least we arrived.  It was a massive stage, with drum riser AND keyboard riser.  We were impressed.  We may have to start insisting on that in future.  We played about an hour and a half of sheer Ska magic, and I broke a string.  Thanks to Adam for inviting us, and to Scott for taking the photos in far from ideal circumstances, and to a great crowd.  Great night.  Next stop Linkylea.

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I love Scotland.  Love it.  I love the people, well one or two of them, I love the music, I love the history, and I love the language.  I love that we are attached to England and the English, who were and are one of the one of the most remarkable people since the Romans.  They conquered three quarters of the world, with our help, spread their language and ideas across the whole world, stole India, got half of China hooked on smack, and colonised everywhere else.  That’s impressive.  Yet the one place that was never really assimilated was Scotland.  They’re still secretly scared of us, because they know, that a Scotsman on the make is a terrible thing.  I love the land, I even love driving about in it, usually.  But I hate the football.  It doesn’t matter how well they do or don’t play, if no one can score goals, it’s pointless.  The food is dreadful, the weather is pretty shan, but apart from that I love this place.  British by birth; Scottish by the grace of god.  Amen. 

Scotland has been in the news a lot lately and it’s not just the atrocious football team.  The SNP have decided to release the Lockerbie bomber, Al Megrahi on compassionate grounds because he is dying.  And the Americans, they no like that.  Gordon Brown is twisting in the wind and the whole thing stinks of corruption.   However, it was absolutely the right thing to do and I don’t care what the motivation was.  Leaving aside for the moment the question of whether or not it was a safe conviction, or if there was a deal made, what no one seems to understand especially the U.S, is this notion of compassion.  The guy is dying; send the fucker home, after all, you’re a long time dead.  It’s odd especially when you know that the U.S is a deeply religious country, some form of Christianity I believe, and therefore should really be more aware of the teachings of Jesus.  It’s not for me, personally.  I’m more of a creep-up-behind-you-and-hit-you-with-a-chair kind of a guy, but that’s just me.  I’m a lovable scamp.  But they should be aware of ideas such as forgiving your enemies, turn the other cheek, love thy neighbour and all that other adorable hippy nonsense.  But they’re not. 

Of course, in America, they treat terrorists a bit differently.  They don’t get a trial, for starters, so they don’t have to worry whether or not the conviction is safe.  No conviction, no problem.  They simply get shipped off to Guantanamo Bay for years without end, and no charges.  Then if they think you might have information regarding other terrorists, or knowledge of an impending attack with WMDs, they’ll torture you.  But it’s not torture; it’s enhanced interrogation techniques.  They water board you, which isn’t a type of surfing by the way, or anything to do with Snow Boarding.  They strap you to a bench, put a rag in your mouth and pour water into your lungs.  They call it simulated drowning, and it isn’t actually fatal, but make no mistake, water enters your lungs, you think you will die, it’s torture.  Interesting side note, the U.S convicted several Japanese soldiers after the Second World War, for water boarding American prisoners for information.  Apparently the Japanese were worried that the Americans were going to attack them with WMDs.  Talk about paranoid.

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In other news, we recently had a fairly mental run of gigs.  Three gigs, forty-four hours and a round trip of about six hundred and odd miles, driving almost non-stop.  We set off Friday morning at ten o clock for Ullapool, arriving at the village hall for four pm, for a double header with some no hopers called Big Hand.  It was an excellent show from the boys who gradually introduced members of Bombskare onto the stage during their set to play, so that by the end of their set most of us were on stage and we went straight into our set.  I got to sing lead vocals on the song ‘Big Hand’.  Thanks again to our buddy Niall Robertson and to Rob Hicks for manning the bar.  We struck the stage and loaded the van and by three am we were getting some sleep.  Up at nine am and away sharp, for the drive to New Deer, about a hundred and sixty miles, to get on stage at the wizard festival at three pm.  Did our thing and then got back in the van to drive a hundred and twenty miles back up the road we had just came, to Inverness where we were playing Mad Hatters at around ten.  It was quite weird; they opened the doors at about nine thirty and within two minutes the place was rammed.  The staff said it was the busiest the place had been in four months, and it was pretty claustrophobic.  We did our thing, on the smallest stage we’ve played in a while, but I have to say, it was probably the best gig of the three.  I broke three strings on two guitars. We finished around twelve, loaded the van, had another drink then hit the road back to Edinburgh, about one thirty am.  One hundred and fifty miles later we were rolling into the Burgh around five, absolutely fucked, especially me, but then again I’m old.  Great weekend.  Thanks to our pal Reggae Dod for some of the live photos, the good ones. 

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Now if you’ll excuse me, today is my birthday and I have to get drunk.  I’m like a chocoholic, but for booze.   Do I look 37?

Sorry about this but it’s time for a rant.

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The bloody festival is here and once again murder is in the air. To truly hate the Edinburgh Festival try driving a truck across town at four in the afternoon. The other day I nearly had to physically assault an American tourist on Waverly Bridge. Had to. He started screaming at me, swearing at the top of his lungs, because I had parked and blocked the tour bus he was waiting on for about a minute. Obviously he thought he was back in Noo Yawk and could behave in this highly inappropriate manner. However what he failed to realise is that no one can create verbal abuse in the English language like the Scots, especially smart arsed ones so he got it tight for about a full minute, not to mention the promise of actual violence. A little bit of awe and shock as they say. As a parting shot as I jumped back in my cab, I shouted, “Next time, try firing a few rounds in the air, ya stupid Canadian fuck”, oh, he didn’t like that. It’s a shame that a few bad apples spoil the lot, because most Americans I have met in my life have been sound.

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On the other hand I have noticed one thing in the news from the States recently. Protesters have been turning up to Obama speeches and other town hall political debates, with guns, in some cases assault weapons. Quite frankly it’s astonishing. It’s the sort of thing that you might expect in Somalia or Iraq. Of course they say it’s their right to carry guns because, you know, George the Third could send a detachment of Red Coats any minute, presumably on a frigate of some kind. It’s been a few hundred years but you never know with those tricky Brits. You read between the lines though; right wing, pro gun nuts turning up to the speeches of the United States’ first black president; I’m no expert, but haven’t you guys got a long history of political figures getting shot by angry lone nuts, with legally registered firearms and a grudge. Bringing assault weapons to political rallies, for me, is a little bit like sticking your dick into a pumpkin; just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

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And what are they protesting about? Is it to stop the war, or protest the economic disaster? No, they are protesting about health care reform. Protesting about introducing some kind of fairly modest public health plan similar to, but nowhere near as good as, our NHS. Because it’s socialism, you see. Socialism is rilly, rilly, bad, m’kay. Now it seems to me that of all the things to protest about in America, being dragged into the twentieth century, not even the twenty first century, wouldn’t be it. Every other civilised country in the world has a public healthcare system of some sort, but not America who have this Randian nightmare of a free market private health system, which forty million Americans don’t have access to. It's always best to entrust programs that serve the public good to unregulated profit-driven mega-corporations apparently. Imagine having to fork out five hundred quid to see a doctor because you’ve got a chest infection.

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The worst thing though is that in the hullabaloo, these free market obsessive, anti health reform morons have been suggesting the public plan will introduce euthanasia for old people, ration health care, and worse, create a system like the Brits have in the UK. In all the shouting, they slandered our health system the bastards. One publication said, “people such as Stephen Hawking wouldn’t stand a chance in the UK, where the NHS would say the life of this brilliant man is essentially worthless because of his physical handicaps”. Of course, Stephen Hawking is British, lives in Britain and was treated by the NHS for over forty years, free of charge (through taxes) and rebutted the remark himself by saying he pretty much owed everything to the NHS, but hey, don’t let the facts get in the way of your cognitive dissonance. It then occurred to me that they think Stephen Hawking is American because of his voice synthesiser, which has that weird disembodied American accent. Yes, it’s a festival of ignorance over there. The right wing nuts are a minority it should be noted. It’s the same crowd that think that Hurricane Katrina was caused by gayness.

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Rant over, and I feel much better. I’ll try and avoid American tourists for the next week or two, but it’s going to be tough, fucking festival! Here are some shots of our recent gig at the Renfrew Ferry with Esperanza and The Heptones, courtesy of our pal Andrew Moore.

Here are some more photos from the Wickerman last week, courtesy of Kevin McCann.  I’d like to add that I have been making remarks about The Wicker Man movie recently and I hadn’t actually seen it in ages, so I thought I should actually check it out.  It’s pretty good, slightly dated and a bit camp maybe but still pretty disturbing.  Christopher Lee is good, Britt Ekland is awful, just awful, and of course Edward Woodward is excellent, but then I’ve always liked him.  I liked him in that programme he had in the eighties “The Tranquilizer” about that guy who goes around helping people whilst shit-faced on jellies.  

On the other hand, has anyone seen the remake of The Wicker Man with Nicholas Cage?  Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with these people?  It’s not that it’s bad, although it is; eye wateringly bad, it’s that it is so utterly pointless.  Why remake a film when it’s already made, and made well?  Movies have become the new R and B; they just keep re releasing the same cover versions of classics because there are no new ideas, apparently.  For example, The Taking of Pelham 123, why remake it? It already exists, and it’s perfect.  It’s actually the second remake of Pelham 123 and the original was only 37 years ago.  

That’s it.  From now on, we are only playing and recording cover versions of other people’s material.  Having original ideas is just too much hard work. 

Gesundheit!

Looking at those old photos in the last post has got me a bit sentimental about 2002. The year of the Queens Golden Jubilee, of course and Henrik Larsson was still Celtic’s top striker. I loved that wee guy and I don’t even support Celtic. It was the year that John Entwhistle died (and if we’re honest, The Who too), and also Spike Milligan, Requiescat in pace. It was the year that we were amazed at Peter’s Jackson’s The Two Towers, and thoroughly appalled at George Lucas’s Attack of the Clones, I mean what the fuck George? Did you write that on a napkin in the pub the night before you turned up to film? Talk about phoning it in. We also got to listen to that lying cunt Tony Blair say that we were in imminent danger of nuclear and biological attacks from Iraq. Honestly, forty-five minutes. It seemed so plausible! Luckily we invaded without U.N or international approval, and against international law, and destroyed their society, so that’s all right then. Remind me, what were all those trials after World War Two about again?

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Nowadays we respect the rule of law and our politicians are no longer lying charlatans. Also the Internet is twenty times faster. And Coldplay continue. On and on. Very little has changed in terms of Bombskare however. Some different faces, less hair, more girth, same propensity for non-communication, miscommunication, rumour, hearsay, gossip, slander, nonfeasance, misfeasance, possibly malfeasance, and of course the danger, always the danger.

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In this case it was simply that we were on stage at 5.15pm and the stage was at the bottom of Dumfries and Galloway. Most of the band had the whole day to arrive and chill out and enjoy the festival, and it is an excellent festival. However Murray and I are both wage slaves and could not get the day off work, I was getting off at 2pm but he could only get away at 3pm. There was just no way we would make it if I waited for Murray, so we decided we had to do it without him which, as you know, is clown shoes! Having us on at 5.15pm didn’t make much sense, hardly any really. If we had the following slot on the schedule, no worries, but it was not to be. I found out later that the band on after us, Eureka Machines, really nice guys, cracking band, only got onto the bill the previous week after another band had to drop out.

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Anyway I had a pretty crazy drive down to festival, complete with overtaking on blind bends, burning tyres, wheelies, everything. I arrived with five minutes to spare at 5.10pm, no chance to get changed into a suit or even to get into character. I think we got by without Murray, but I wouldn’t want to make a habit of it. We still went with the drunken keyboard player though, that’s a tradition now. No bin bag for Joe. Great crowd. We saw plenty familiar and friendly faces. Thanks to everyone there, and for putting up with inevitable technical difficulties, fucking guitars!

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Shout out to our cousins Kev, Ronnie, Handsome D, and Ryan, the Roots boys, they played a fucking blinder, and of course to The Meanies although I missed their set. Cheers to Gordon for impersonating Murray in our group shots. Cheers again to Kevin McCann for the photos, most of them. I would also like to say that I really enjoyed the UK Subs, and especially The Dickies. Their drummer is tremendous. I’m always impressed by left handed drummers, like Ian Paice; it just looks mental. I have a confession at this point. I watched The Human League, and expected to hate it, but didn’t. Is there something wrong with me?

This week, since we have been commemorating the Apollo moon landings forty years ago, I thought it might be fun to reminisce.  Seven years ago, an up and coming ‘young’ ska band called Bombskare were asked to headline the scooter tent at a new festival in the middle of nowhere called The Wickerman Festival.  I can’t say that I complete trust my memories but I do recollect that it was odd to have a festival named from a 1970’s British horror movie starring Edward Woodward, and featuring a badly dubbed Brit Ekland bouncing about in the scud.

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A few things I do recall.  Some of us went down on Friday, the rest on Saturday.  I remember Joe being dressed in a bin bag because he had accidentally burned or smoked his clothes.  I remember that Barry our keyboard player got so drunk that we couldn’t get him to stand up, let alone play.  Someone, can’t remember who, maybe me, hit upon the idea of ‘spiking’ him with speed to get him going so we could do the set, which was around midnight, just after Stiff Little Fingers finished on the main stage.  Spiking him didn’t have the desired effect however.  Instead of someone up and awake, we had a hyperactive drunken idiot who couldn’t play or even set his keyboard to the right sound.  So as we went into ‘Lies’, instead of the keyboard being set to ‘organ’, it was set to ‘spaceship descending and vaporising the planet’.  It nearly blew the PA, not to mention traumatising the audience.  We ended up just unplugging his keyboard and he didn’t even notice.  I remember that vital drum equipment was in Cammy’s car and no one could find him.  It was also one of the earliest gigs for our second drummer and wookie impersonator, Mark Bray.  He’s easy to spot in the photos; he’s six foot ten.  I also remember that yours truly had a fucked ankle, but Cammy, Andy and I still climbed the huge hill at the back of the wicker man, at five in the morning.  Good times, I think.

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Anyway we’re off there tomorrow, without Murray unfortunately.  I’m sure it hasn’t changed a bit.  Just like us, I’m sure it’s timeless.

If anyone wants my television it’s sitting at the end of my driveway, just have it.  I threw it out the other day in disgust when all this non-stop Michael Jackson coverage started.  When it started I thought, ‘oh fuck my TV is broken, better listen to the radio’, but it was all over the radio too, like a virus.  So I phoned Argos where I bought the TV to complain, I said ‘what the hell is up with my telly its spewing this nonsense, non-stop?’ 

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‘Yes sir, that’s the news.  It’s not the TV’s fault’.

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‘Really?  But what if aliens are monitoring our transmissions here on earth?  They’ll think we’re all idiots.  I could be stuck here forever!’  Yes, I don’t have many friends.

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Seriously though, in one hour of CNN there was exactly fifty minutes of Michael Jackson coverage, as if the world had just stopped.  One minute there’s non-stop coverage about how fucked the economy is or the trouble in Iraq and Iran, and then just like that an ‘entertainer’ dies and suddenly it’s like JFK times ten.   As a comparison when Hendrix died, admittedly nearly forty years ago, the headlines read ‘controversial guitarist snuffs it; probably drugs; serves him right; let’s move on’.  And that’s Jimi Hendrix.  Yer actual Jimi Hendrix.

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Some people might say that I am unsympathetic or that I just don’t like MJ.  That’s just not true, I like the music of lots of controversial artists.  For example I regularly listen to Gary Glitter’s greatest hits. Don’t worry, I downloaded it illegally.  No, It’s simply that I seem to be the only one actually worried about the death of Michael Jackson.  And no, it’s not about who gets to keep his kids or the chimpanzee, or owns the songs.  I’m worried about him returning from beyond the grave, and dancing, zombie-like with some other zombies in a large choreographed dance number.  Terrifying if true.  Funny old world isn’t it, one minute you’re the slightly creepy king of pop, and the next minute you’re a slightly creepy zombie.  I wonder who owns The Beatles back catalogue now? 

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We almost cancelled our appearance at the Insider Festival because of the untimely death of Michael Jackson.  We were just too upset.  At first I refused to go on stage, but the guys convinced me by saying we would do an impromptu cover of ‘I Want You Back’, which I was determined to do, and may still yet.  But it was a trick of course.  They had no intention, the sons of bitches.  But we did go on and played probably our longest festival set this year, so far, about an hour and a half.  We’re really enjoying all these festivals. 

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We have a few weeks off before our next gig at The Wickerman Festival, but will we be resting?  Hell no!  We will be in the studio working on new material, no such thing as down time for us.  These ska tunes don’t write themselves you know. Just about though.

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Here’s some fascinating trivia for you. Did you know that there are only four degrees of separation between Bombskare and Kevin Bacon? That’s the same as Adolph Hitler. It’s true. Let me enlighten you. I am in Bombskare and I worked as a focus tester on Grand Theft Auto: Vice City Stories, which means I’m in the game credits, somewhere near the bottom, which also featured Gary Busey, who was also in ‘The Firm’ with Tom Cruise, who was in ‘A Few Good Men’ with Kevin Bacon; Adolph Hitler was in ‘Triumph of the Will’, which was directed by Leni Riefenstahl, who in turn was in ‘Das Blaue Licht’, with Mathias Wieman, who was in ‘Die Ehe des Dr. med. Danwitz’ with Maximilian Schell, who was in ‘Telling Lies in America’ with Kevin Bacon. QED. Admit it, you’re impressed. It’s not as close as Root System though. Apparently our Kev was Kevin Bacon’s stunt dance double on ‘Footloose’. Didn’t know that, did you? It’s a widely believed fact.....

....While it’s good to joke and laugh, ska is no laughing matter. We’ve had a few pretty big gigs recently and that’s something we take seriously. Very seriously. Very few laughs in the Bomblab recently. No time for fun and games, and jokes about Kevin bacon, we’ve got other bacon to fry. We’ve been rehearsing our world famous ‘Playing of the Ska tunes’, to great effect. If you had been at Glasgow’s West End Festival in Kelvingrove Park you would have noticed us. We were the ones on the main stage delivering the ska. ....

....They had predicted all this terrible weather, but it was scorching. Getting to the stage was the problem. We arrived late because of a broken down truck at the beginning of the M8. By the time we arrived we had to fight our way through thousands of bodies enjoying the festival, and an entire parade of semi naked ladies, dancing and playing the drums. I’m not going to lie to you, we were impressed. We finally got to the stage in a bit of a panic and got set up and went for it, no time to spare. It’s definitely been our biggest audience this year. A couple of thousand punters sitting in the sun even more than at Toots at the O2. Highlights include Murray setting my microphone too high so that I had to stand on tip toes to sing. And of course the famous mixing up of the solos on ‘The Ballad of Lloyd Knibb’. Thanks to Pauly for the photos. Almost as soon as we left the stage, the weather turned grey, and by the time we were on the M8 again it was pouring rain, complete with lightning, a proper storm. ....

When I first saw it, it scared me. It was like the building was staring at me, all the way through our set. Very unnerving. Before us were the amazing Samba Ya Bamba, and after us the also amazing The Aliens. Good to catch up with our old pal Stoddie who was playing with the excellent William Douglas, and our pals Phil and  Jen Hopwood, whose wedding we played at last year.  Andy and I were interviewed for the Vic Galloway show. God knows what I said, and don’t believe a word of it. One thing I will say, apart from the terrible midgies, it has the makings of an excellent festival, in a really interesting location.

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Thanks to our Annaline for the photos. Our next gig is up north at The Insider, near Aviemore. Probably more midgies. I’ll definitely be bringing the skin so soft this time, unlike last time.

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On one final note. Many congratulations to Murray’s sister Lindsay who has just had a baby girl. All the best from all of us. Here’s hoping she has no resemblance to her Uncle!

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We’ve been in the studio a lot lately, and have invented a new sport, extreme editing. I’ll explain the rules at a later date, but basically it involves cutting and pasting bass guitar parts in pro tools, but in dangerous situations such as during sky diving or bungee jumps. Usually you need to have the mouse and keyboard gaffa taped to your arms but it is fun, although it helps if you’re high.

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Watching the news recently, and I can’t decide what I’m most outraged about. Is it our hopelessly corrupt politicians and the spectacular crashing of the gravy train? Is it our corrupt financial system run by greedy overpaid charlatans, bailed out again and again by the taxpayer for gambling everything and losing. I don’t think so, in fact I think they have been unfairly victimised of late. As much as it is difficult to have no money right now, just think about how hard it is to have a lot of money right now. Don’t believe me then just ask Fred ‘ Nae Pals’ Goodwin. Possibly it’s the situation in Iran. Or maybe it’s the news, today, that David Blunkett and his guide dog were trampled by stampeding cows whilst out for a ramble? There’s a lot to choose from and my outrage is limited, doctors orders. I think the worst was watching Nick Griffiths being pelted with egg yolks on telly right after the European election results. It was awful. Just awful. Don’t people understand he only likes being pelted with egg whites?

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All this bad news seems to be coming from London. And that’s where we were headed. I would like to say that we were going there to use ska to somehow fix the dreadful mess, but no, it was simply part of our ongoing quest to further our own excellence. And also scout out the new MI6 headquarters. Unlike last time, this time was an enjoyable trip there and back, by our standards. No panic, no brutal recriminations, just peace and love, and lager. We arrived in plenty time, rocking past Electric Avenue, drinking our way down Coldharbour Lane, and eh, tiptoeing past the Guns of Brixton, with more than an hour to spare for sound checking. Just like a real band.

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This time we were supporting Chris Tummings, who is probably most famous for appearing in ‘Desmonds’ on Channel Four in the Nineties. He has a ska band, The Skavalites(!), mainly playing covers. Pretty good, although they did a cover of an Oasis song, which was ‘controversial’. Nice guys though. They were local so they had a healthy crowd with them, but once we were finished with them, they all belonged to us, mwahahaha!! Sold many copies of our album and had a cracking night.

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We spent the night in bunks in the basement, in a room reminiscent of Abu Grahib, without the American room service obviously. I have to say, I was very comfortable in spite of being handcuffed to a radiator and being doused with cold water every three hours. Cheers to Hootenanny’s for their hospitality again. Thanks to all our pals in Brixton. Thanks to my wee cousin Eve for the pics. We’ll hopefully be back later this year.

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Next stop Kelvingrove and Kelburn. Mind the weather.

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Not much time for updates. Just preparing to head to Glasgow and our support slot at the O2 academy with Toots and the Maytals. We’ve been preparing for this gig with extensive physical training of course; legs and back on Mondays and Wednesdays, arms and cardio vascular on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and of course at the weekend, survival training. You can’t be too prepared, that’s my philosophy. I’ve heard that this Toots character thinks he’s tough. Apparently he did a bit of boxing in his youth. Ha! Who hasn’t? I hear he thinks he’s the big enchilada, the big cheese, some other delicious snack. Well, we’ll learn him! We’ve pulled out all the stops. I have been in correspondence with Ross Kemp, of TV fame, seeking advice on how to make the band tougher, like him. We had an assault course installed in the studio. We have even been rehearsing. We’ve been practicing our skank and also that tricky ska beat; man, is that a head fuck! Anyway we’re looking forward to kicking his ass.

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We would also like to thank everyone who came to see us during our miniature invasion of the north of England. Special thanks to Tony down in Newcastle and Emily down in Manchester for inviting us down again. I’m always secretly surprised to be invited back anywhere, ever.

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On another note, I’ve just heard that Studio 24 has lost its entertainments license, which means one less venue in Edinburgh. Total fucking clown shoes! They are appealing the decision so fingers crossed.

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Update: Forgot to mention the most important thing about our trip south. We went to a chippie in Gosforth that was, by far and away, the worst chippie in the world. I ordered a fish supper and received a battered portion of cancer, garnished with anthrax. I’ve forgotten the name of the place, probably through the trauma of eating some of their chips but to be on the safe side it’s probably a good idea not to eat chips if you’re in Gosforth. Have a curry.

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Some of you may have noticed that there are one or two males in the band, several to be exact, but unlike boy bands for instance, man bands can be more trouble. The swearing, the inappropriate touching, the eternal possibility of blind, ugly violence, yes, we have it all. You can’t really imagine Boyzone getting plastered and having to be arrested by twenty cops in three meat wagons. The biggest problem they have to face is being rich and beloved by millions. Ha! No such problems for us! Our biggest problem, as a man band, is not making complete idiots of ourselves, especially in front of the other genders. And especially when we go to far flung places in the remotest parts of Britain with nothing much to do, except drink and fight.

We went to Knoydart to play at the 10-year celebration of the community buyout of the Knoydart Estate. Now I have to admit, community ownership sounds a little bit like communism; filthy godless communism. However we decided to look the other way. After all capitalism isn't working out so well these days either.

Our main concern about the Knoydart expedition was that it involved us, and lots of Tennants lager, and boats were involved and we were travelling up the same road as our near fatal trip to Rum two years ago. It was all a bit worrying. However the trip was uneventful and the weather was beautiful. We arrived on time, no one was hurt, and it all seemed to be a little too good to be true. Andy and his family had been up there camping for a few days prior to our arrival, and were there to greet us and show us the place. It is certainly one of the most beautiful places in Britain. There’s not a lot in terms of urban areas but plenty of rural. One pub, one shop, a church and a hostel, and what a beautiful place. You can only reach it by boat or by walking over the mountains, no roads connecting to the UK road system.

We were fed, quartered away in the hostel and were soon hopelessly drunk. By the time we went onstage at god knows when, we were in full party mode. Luckily everyone in the place was of the same mindset and it took about two seconds to get the place bouncing. And bounce they did. We dedicated ‘Birthday’ to Mr Donald Guitar of Mystery Juice fame whose birthday it was. It was a good set and the sound was awesome. I broke two strings on two guitars. I had brought my beloved Hendrix Strat but immediately after I broke a string on it I remembered why I never use it for Bombskare. The tremolo system guarantees that after I break a string the tension changes and the whole thing is hopelessly out of tune, unlike the Schecter or the Teles that can take a beating before the tuning goes.

The following day all we had to do was burn in the sun, drink ourselves blind and wait for the music to kick off. The pub there is called The Old Forge and it is the remotest pub in Britain. And still it has a cheaper pint than most Edinburgh pubs, that’s communism for you. In the evening we got to see the Squashy Bag Dance Band again who are incredible. They were amazing at the Rum festival. These guys could play for hours and hours so it was always a bit disappointing, especially for them, when they are pulled off after only an hour. You could see Eilidh and Sarah visibly annoyed, having just warmed up. Next up was Mystery Juice who are legendary. They have been together for ages, certainly since before the Reformation, probably before Jesus, and have long been one of my favourite bands. They played a blinder. One song caused me to throw my new pork pie hat in the air and almost lose it. Great tunes though. After that were Shooglenifty who were brilliant, as far as I remember, but who knows.

What happened after all that was a blur, but we woke up on Sunday at midday in a blind panic because we had ten minutes to get down to the harbour and get our boat back to Mallaig. After a frantic scrabble and a lift in the back of a flat bed truck we caught the boat, only to realise half way across the water that we were missing Papa Joe. That wasn’t good. We spent the afternoon in Mallaig waiting for him to be found back in Knoydart. After some phone calls back and forth (“What does he look like?” “Fat, bald and furious!”), he was finally located and returned to us in pretty much the same condition we had accidentally left him; completely fucked from booze. It was a terrific weekend and we had an amazing time, although I had completely lost my voice from all the shouting and bawling that follows me everywhere.

Thanks to everyone up there, thanks to everyone who came, thanks to all the other bands especially Mystery Juice and the Squashy Bag Dance Band, thanks to our pal Kevin McCann for the pictures. See youse all in Newcastle and Manchester.