Name: BFTB: One For Fuck All by Michael Legge
Duration: 6 min 4 s
Description: Another podcast about success from Britain's post popular and comfortable entertainer.

Interesting story, funny too, made me want to listen to the new Stone Roses song too. I didn't care for it much either. Much rather listen to I Wanna Be Adored

Jim Bob-Goffam- The Album 
The Carter USM singer's first solo work since the band reunited is a concept album of a world needing superheroes.

Atypically dark lyrically, the live method of recording adds a vitality to Jim Bob's playing, the likes of Goffam Cops and Architect rattling past full of bite and brio. His geezerish vocals have rarely sounded more urgent.

Capable of poise too, it's not just Carter fans who should look in. 8/10

Andrew Collins blog

...it gives me so much pleasure to report that Jim's latest album, another loosely conceptual piece forged on the pavements of South London and held together with the bile of an urban malcontent and father-for-justice at a funny age, is another belter. I've been hearing the great English songwriters in Jim's ever more accomplished solo work for a while now - Ian Dury, Ray Davies, Damon Albarn - and Goffam carries that baton forwards with its witty but serious protest songs about crime and the causes of crime. His words have always been sharp and funny, although the tortuous puns of old have given way to something more poetic, less forced. Try this poignant verse from the opener, The Golden Years Of Lonely Old Dears:

The coins I've saved
In an old coffee jar
Will light up one bar, one bar of gold
Enough to thaw my old bones out some more
I did not survive a war to die of cold

Goffam is played mostly live, or as-live, with Chris T-T and Johnny Lamb; it's not as conspicuously arranged as the last album, A Humpty Dumpty Thing (whose Cartoon Dad remains one of my all-time favourites from his solo canon), but the sparser production simply foregrounds Jim's songwriting confidence. Lonely Cop reminds me of Kevin Coyne, which is anything but faint praise coming from me, and I love the way he tackles one of the thornier issues of the day, knife crime, without sensation or sentimentality on Teenage Body County ("Oh what a world we've made for our children/A world to get killed in"). These are London songs, but that doesn't bar entry to anybody from outside the M25 - the hope and angst are universal. His songs always were 24 hours from Tulse Hill.

He tells me he's yet to even receive a single play on 6 Music. Can this be true? What has happened to that place?

Read the full blog review here

CokeMachineGlow

After seven solo albums and a former life in the charts, James Neil Morrison knows that sheep’s clothing is indeed the way forward. After all, what’s creepier than just being kidnapped? Being kidnapped by someone who perms you and polishes your shoes, of course. Equally creepy are these twelve merry fares about a city with an out-of-date Bat Signal trapped in a bubble of Kryptonite smog. Welcome to Goffam: a town drowning in Marvel films but desperately in need of heroes; a steel mill where Alex Murphy never becomes RoboCop—he just gets shot and shot and shot. Also, welcome to Goffam: Jim Bob’s eighth studio album and his most succinct release to date, the one where his senses of humour, temper, and melancholy align like something astrological.

Yes, it’s concept album time, and if you thought things were cruel through the growing pains of 2006’s School, you’d better suit up for Goffam‘s grisly chronicles—all rampant knife crime and grumbling hordes. “This town needs an enema,” as Jack Nicholson would remark, and he’s right. You see, Goffam’s mean streets are too dank for De Niro, too hell-bound for the Angels in America. At thirty-six minutes they’re also bustling with life and decay—there isn’t even enough time for the traditional Jim Bob opening skit before we lurch straight into the opening pitch. “The Golden Years of Lonely Old Dears” is a sombre and jarring piano hymn for today’s broken elderly whose titular golden years are now more depressing than The Man Who Fell to Earth (1976) thanks to rising gas prices and gangs. Once Jim has sung his piece about “One bar, one bar of gold / Enough to thaw my old bones out some more / I did not survive a war / To die of cold,” the song erupts into speaker-eating fury, angry guitars clambering to shine light on a very real problem—so real, in fact, it got Margaret Haywood the gooner.

So don’t fall for that Adam West artwork on the front: this is Batman without Robin, Alfred, Superted or the Samaritans. However, what propels Goffam from a big black pit is Jim’s all-conquering rhythm and insight, adding a pop finesse to the record’s bleakest moments. When you’re whistling along to the banjo kicks of “Teenage Body Count”—an ode to city gun culture and recurrent child stabbings—you can’t help but a feel a twinge of guilt. It’s true these are terrible times we’re living in, so what’s keeping our Clark Kents from changing? Make with the phone box and fly already. Perhaps they’re too downcast like the boys in blue, one of which is given a platform to mourn on the campfire croon of “Lonely Cop”: “Last night I phoned a takeaway / Just to talk about the day I’d had / I’m parked outside the doughnut shop / I’m just another lonely cop.” The city is buckling under the weight of its grief while Clockwork Orange kids run amok. Still, those who know him will know Jim’s bleaker stuff is his best, and he’s got a wealth of ace cards and sleeves to fall back on when having a good grump at the world. It’s his steady juxtaposing of sheer terror with prairie twinkles and gonzo rock that marks Goffam as his possible best, though, from the cante flamenco of “Support the Goffam Cops” (Right Wing Jim? No—just doing his bit for the bobbies) through to the final lullaby of “Not Far From Here,” whose angelic and mild-mannered folk goes to show it only takes a hint of sun to chase the clouds away. Still, the familiar howl of the hidden track keeps a dark edge to the silver lining and lets us all know precisely what to expect once the sky once again goes dark.

Scary, eh. If it weren’t for numbers like “Architect Architect” you’d be indoors with the lonely old dears too, but for every downright dip into Hell there’re ninety seconds of cheeky fun to enjoy. As Jim politely cusses the creator of his flatblock while wet-rot and squatters run rampant, the essence of Goffam hits you: it’s not about surviving, but keeping optimism aglow while everything around you turns to fuck and drudgery. It might go down like a one-legged tap-dancer come the bunting and rhetoric of the 2012 Olympics, but it puts a wax seal on Jim’s way of thinking: more messed up than a sniper with shell-shock but as spiky and bright as the Red Devils. To the Bee Mobile! You mean your Chevy? ...Yes.

Rating: 81%

Tom Robinson of BBC Radio 6



Radio Goffam-Jim Bob

The Garden of Gethsemane's Boys

In this special programme from the afterlife, Sir David Frost interviews Jimmy Savile. In Hell.

By Robert Popper and Peter Serafinowicz
Illustration by Alex Morris www.pinvin.com

Radio Spiritworld - broadcasting to the living world from the Other Side. 
www.rsw.cc

Serafinowicz/Popper Present FROST/SAVILE

Another podcast about success from Britain's post popular and comfortable entertainer.

BFTB: One For Fuck All

The third song on 'The Defenestration of St Martin'. For information contact jeff@thehookupconsultancy.com

For more info on the album, please visit www.pledgemusic.com/projects/martinrossiter

No One Left To Blame

A small instrumental from Flat Coke, just to whet your appetite. x

Oh yeah

Hello. My name is Michael and this is my podcast thing. It features Blogging For The Blind, Precious Littler, Cvntscast and various other pointless shittery. Enjoy.

BFTB: One For Fuck All

Michael Legge

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