U
Uncleskinny
Guest
From The Guardian today:
He talks about how his sister used to make up songs and they would record pretend radio shows on a little tape deck. Was he always into music? "Not into chart music and bands. Just into songs." And poets. Like William Blake, he is obsessed with Englishness, and like Blake he refers to England as Albion. The new album is called Down in Albion. He seems embarrassed when I mention the poetry.
"I think, in the early days, there was a lot of affectation to the people I claimed to like." Actually, he says, he prefers "idle quotation" to poems these days, and provides an instant example. "'There's ice on the sink where we bathe' ... D'you like it? D'you know what it is?" He picks up his guitar and sings the answer.
So how can you call this a home,
when you know it's a grave.
Yet you still hold that greedy grace,
as you tidy the place,
but it will never be clean.
The song is Jeane, the B-side of the first single released by the Smiths. Typical Doherty, to choose such a desperately miserable lyric.
Doherty Guardian Article
He talks about how his sister used to make up songs and they would record pretend radio shows on a little tape deck. Was he always into music? "Not into chart music and bands. Just into songs." And poets. Like William Blake, he is obsessed with Englishness, and like Blake he refers to England as Albion. The new album is called Down in Albion. He seems embarrassed when I mention the poetry.
"I think, in the early days, there was a lot of affectation to the people I claimed to like." Actually, he says, he prefers "idle quotation" to poems these days, and provides an instant example. "'There's ice on the sink where we bathe' ... D'you like it? D'you know what it is?" He picks up his guitar and sings the answer.
So how can you call this a home,
when you know it's a grave.
Yet you still hold that greedy grace,
as you tidy the place,
but it will never be clean.
The song is Jeane, the B-side of the first single released by the Smiths. Typical Doherty, to choose such a desperately miserable lyric.
Doherty Guardian Article
