Our Ancestors Also Grooved
Written: Dec 20 '00
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Product Rating:
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Pros: I hear a new world
Cons: I still hear the current one
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| FilboidStudge's Full Review: Rock and Pop |
It was fun in Britain during the 1600s. We had a laugh avoiding the Black Death and perhaps we did get a bit crispy when London burnt down, but you should have heard what we were grooving to at the time.
Don't believe those olde-style MGM musicals with Tony Curtis farting about in chainmail to the sounds of lyres and madrigals. It just wasn't like that. That stuff was chick music. We only played that so we could score.
One day Nobbye the farmer and myself had been kicking a pig's bladder about and decided to go inside for some hemp mead. Nobbye dropped a flagon of ale, and as it spilled and cracked, it made an ungodly noise on the stone floor.
Nobbye made a comment stating that he wished he had a contraption whereby he could somehow record the noise we had heard and segue it into an uplifting, euphoric Ibiza garage anthem.
Nobbye was burned the following dawn.
Poppe will eate itselfe
One day a travelling minstrel called. He said he had seen the future and told a tale of a feared dragon called Ria who had been slowly eaten by an even bigger dragon called Napster. Then he started to use flints and taut horsehair to create a rhythm which he called techno.
We reckoned he was just a bum. He smelled of bad cabbage and we threw him out.
As he was going, he claimed to have a vision which has left him in a permanent vegetative state. All the man will now say as his eyes stare, transfixed, is "boys, back street, boys, back street..."
Rare herbs nor leeches will lift his affliction.
Nobbye and myself, however, slowly became more enamoured of the techno, and started to make techno on market day between the peg stall and the man who sells fresh horse.
On a good day we would make a few coins, a good basket-and-a-half of root vegetables, and maybe even an eel.
One day, we were introduced to a man from the far edge of the world where the serpents swim. His name was Lars and he was a beater of animal skins. He didn't care for our techno and threatened to report us to our own church elders for not insisting people give us alms when they hear the techno we make.
So we fed his nose to the dogs and drowned him in the urine of goats.
Bo selecta, yea verily,
Hey nonny nonny no
Yelp yelp gurgle
Mediaeval techno
For future reference:
1. Investigate music made hundreds of years ago and try to work out why we're not still using crumhorns, whatever they are
2. Speak to people you find shouting on street corners
3. Seek out unusual vegetables
4. Get some sleep.
Recommended:
No
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Epinions.com ID:
FilboidStudge
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Member: Filboid Studge
Location: England
Reviews written: 64
Trusted by: 45 members
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