Is Tom Daley Daley Thompson’s son? I fail to see the impotence.
In a world where being related to someone –anyone- is of such importance? Apparently so.
What band are we going to talk about this week? The same band we talk about every week.
The Socratic Rhythm Method? None other.
Why? Why not?
Why not? Why?
Wherefore art thou? Beneath your blummin’ feet.
So what was his method? It started by beating two eggs.
I think you’re playing me? No. He beat boxed two eggs in two rounds.
He was into beat box? You heard me right.
And the eggs didn’t mind? They were glad to be part of the magic.
Whose magic? His. Malone Diaz.
Malone Diaz? None other.
None? Perhaps one.
One? I have it on good authority.
On? On the authority of I who is called I-scream.
Nevertheless, tell us about this Diaz? The man you call Diaz started cooking.
Then what happened? He broke some eggs, spilt some milk, shook up a structure or two.
He didn’t mind slitting a few throats? But he got it.
And what did he do with it? He was going to weigh some flour.
On some scales? Yes, on some oldie-timey counterweight scales.
Did he weigh the flour? He tried to set aside the weights he didn’t need.
But where? Well, he couldn’t find anywhere else.
Where? He had no other choice.
Where, wally? Look, the ends justify the mesnes.
Where? On his Yamaha PSR-185.
On the keys? On the keys and it was on.
The must have sounded bad? Actually, it sounded ok.
What did he do? He started tinkering.
What happened to the cake? It started bakering.
Did he like the sound? Not at first, but he started adding drum patterns.
Drum patterns? Yes, the PSR-185 puts the full power of a backing band behind you with the 100 rhythms and accompaniment styles.
Did he get anywhere? Not until he also added effects and hooked in some midi filters.
So this isn’t just one note for hours and hours? Far from it, he used the keyboard like an audible LFO.
Big deal, didn’t Keith Emerson use a knife to hammer down keys? Doesn’t Greg Lake look wrong in a blue pastel suit?
Ok. Whatever point we have has been proved. What did Diaz do with his record? He hung it out to dry.
Literally or metaphorically? You’ll have to ask him that.
What did he call the record? “The Weight of The Scales of Justice in The Hall of Mirrors in the Palace of Versailles.”
Catchy come home? All the way to the piggy bank of Scotland.
Did it win him many followers? Not many, but enough to move from a bedsit.
Where is he now? Studio apartment. Open plan.
City Centre? HMO.
Why did she get involved? Everybody wants their piece of the pie.
Have you got to feed the monkey? It makes it more supine when spanking comes along.
Did he follow it up? You know what, the next year he left his keyboard upside down and went on holiday.
His neighbours? They sold tickets as a voyage of discovery.
Was there a discovery? Yes, that he paid his electricity by coin meter.
We’re all slaves to our condition? No. That those old 5 pence pieces were really, really big.
We’re all slaves to our condition? You’re a slave to your inhibited questions.
Would I be less inhibited if I’d imbibed more palliatives? Probably.
Have you been to see the seaside? I don’t through fear of cerapods.
Not cephalopods? No. They’re easy to beat. Up and left all the way.
Where are we? I think we’re in Basingstoke.
Where is this going? Diaz was going everywhere fast.
Why was that? The electricity company appreciated his and his neighbour’s contribution to their funds.
Whatever did they do? They let him play a gig at their HQ.
Did he sell out? That depends on what you mean.
What do I mean? He set his keyboard up, placed his weights down and went to the pub.
Did they appreciate it? They gave him positive feedback (A+++++++++++++ excellent all the way)
That must be good? It was followed by a retrospective at The Baltic.
The respected centre for contemporary art? Well, kind of.
Kind of? It was in that building.
In Gateshead? Indeed. Whilst it was still a flour mill.
Was there any milling around? What do you think?
I ask the questions here?
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