Hey all you rock’n’rollers,

Is it not scary as hell to consider that Nick Kent’s percipient and poetic description of “the gloriously disengaged insincerity of Mick Jagger” during the Stones performance at Altamont could just as easily be referring to our own Grand Dame prime minister? Just how out there is this Blair motherfucker? And if his own “gloriously disengaged insincerity” is informed by the beliefs of an Anglo-Catholic zealot, as he himself so readily admits, is it not – O Secular Ones — time to kick his believing butt into touch at this coming election? Certainly I’m no one to make more than a passing comment, having been Up Country these past two months, unavailable for an April Drudion comment during the death of the Papa, and only having voted once in my adult life anyway. But as believers in something rarely need evidence to back up those beliefs, Tony Blair has now managed to turn around in his own mind the lack of evidence of Saddam’s Weapons of Mass Destruction to the point where he’s fairly happy to admit that, with or without those weapons, Saddam was a bad enough man to warrant ousting. It is this smug Gnostic inner glow that gives Blair his air of “gloriously disengaged insincerity” – as though he’s forever thinking: “How could those un-anointed plebs possibly understand? I’ll just keep schtumm and get on with the presidency.” To be far out is excellent, indeed essential if you’re a rock’n’roller, author, poet, magician, or their ilk. But it is Jose Mourinho the pragmatist who has won the Premiership for Chelsea, not Glen Hoddle the tea-leaf consulting mystic. And surely being far out is a dreadful encumbrance when you’re leader of a great country, as has been evidenced throughout history by such heroic failures as Napoleon Bonaparte, Charles XII of Sweden and that ultimate of New Agers Adolf Hitler. 

In the meantime, I’ve been listening to huge amounts of other artists’ music whilst getting to grips with the main text of LET ME SPEAK TO THE DRIVER. I particularly love the Galician music that Sangre Cavallum have just put together for their album BARBARA CARMINA. It stands midway between Acid Mother’s Temple’s LA NOVIA and the massive massed drone meditations of Brittany’s KEVRENN ALRE. Also, look on our Merchandiser for the Fried‑X album, which is just released on Fuck Off & Di. The breathing analogue synth drones and spacious soundscapes really put me in mind of such Krautrock legends as Yatha Sidra, Kalakackra, and Sand. But the female vocals elevate this record into the same melancholic territory as PARADIESWARTS DUUL-period Amon Duul 1. Returning once more to the progress report on LET ME SPEAK TO THE DRIVER, however, I gots to say that this will not be my next published book after all, although it’s too early to state right now precisely what’s next in line. This is not because I ain’t decided yet, but because I’m being coy. The material for DARK ORGASM is also progressing well, as is the forthcoming Brain Donor LP, which will feature four epic songs, one short Doggen instrumental and a version of ‘When Emotions Die’ from the Saint Vitus album V. 

Okay, I’m off. I apologise for having missed out the April Drudion. But as it was the first I’d failed to complete in almost five years, have some compassion for me, willya?

Ta muchly,

U‑Know!

JULIAN (M’Lud Yatesbury)