A quick trip to the UK, and a bit of a discovery in the absence of anything to watch on TV.

I was back in London again at the weekend to see the final Armstrong & Miller studio recordings at the BBC. Very funny of course, but I’ve still to regain any feeling in my buttocks which went numb after the first couple of hours. I think the BBC have had the same seats in their studios since the 1930’s when men and their buttocks were made of sterner stuff.

I was going to head back across the channel on Saturday, but postponed when John (Steel) rang to say that he could come over for a couple of days if I could wait until Monday. I’m always grateful for a second pair of ears that I can trust, particularly when mixing so I decided to wait for him.

Having nothing of great urgency that I could do while in London, and failing to find anything on TV of interest on Sunday, I turned to YouTube. I guess I should confess, that although I’m aware of Internet phenomena like YouTube and MySpace, I rarely venture that way. I know I should but there always seem to be other things to do.

So, out of pure boredom I thought I’d check out YouTube for anything on Ann Coulter. As I’m sure you know, she’s is the pin-up girl for the American right wing. She’s well educated, conventionally attractive, media savvy, quick with a sound-bite and one of the nastiest pieces of racist, extreme right propagandists you’ll encounter. She features a little in the song ‘My Little Gangsta’ that John and I wrote for the new album.

So, the very first thing I came across was a piece by Henry Rollins on Ann Coulter (Rollins letter to Ann Coulter). I’m vaguely familiar with Henry Rollins, I think I’ve played on the same bill as him and the Rollins band at a couple of festival gigs in the mid 1990’s, but I’ll admit I never looked or listened hard enough to hear any lyrical content of interest, behind the barrage of sound and intense screaming. Don’t get me wrong, I have always enjoyed the odd intense track by metal bands, but after a few tracks, when the only emotion coming through the music is anger, (occasionally very unfocused) I get bored, simply because I think there are other musical ways to reflect that anger, and other emotions to explore.

Anyway, to return to Henry Rollins; I was dimly aware that he had written poetry, (certainly unusual for a tattooed, muscular man of metal) and that he was renowned for his intensity and his principled work ethic, but the stuff I found on YouTube really opened my eyes.

I confess I’ve spent the last six to seven years nursing what might be called a vaguely anti-American sentiment. When Bush stole that first election I resolved not to go to America until he and his puppet masters were gone. (I bet that decision really upset the authorities)

OK, I know one shouldn’t tarnish a whole nation with the same brush, and we all know the first Bush victory was at best, highly questionable, but it seemed from this side of the globe, that he went on to legitimately win the second election. Which meant that unbelievably, people in America were actually voting for him and his militaristic, homophobic, socially unjust, neo-fascistic policies.

It seemed like an immense step backwards in time, after the tiny, faltering promise of the 1990’s. Had Americans learned nothing from 20th century history? Christ, wouldn’t the majority of voters have lived through it and seen how with Captain Cuckoo holding the steering wheel, that it was about to repeat itself? (Trust me American readers, I realise that to a large extent, the same accusation can be quite fairly made of myself and fellow countrymen) Where was the outraged and angered voice of opposition? Michael Moore and Al Franken were doing their bit, but nobody seemed to be throwing foam-mouthed punches of righteous anger from within the evil empire.

Well as ever, it seems I’ve been wrong. Having enjoyed his Ann Coulter piece, I followed links for the best part of four hours and saw Rollins in numerous interview and performance clips, occasionally performing what I believe he calls ’spoken word’ but I think could equally be called stand-up. Not in the gag-telling, or observational “have you ever noticed” sense. This guy has picked up the Bill Hicks robe and to my astonishment, it fits his strangely Schwarzenegger-like body to a tea. He’s well read, well traveled, well informed, self-deprecating and painfully honest. He’s highly articulate and incredibly funny, and at a time when many who feel like him prefer to slip into the shadows until this all blows over, afraid of what vocal opposition might do to their careers, he’s spitting it out like a machine gun.

I may never fully get his musical output but, my God, it was a big lift and a palpable relief for me to hear the man shooting at his multiple targets with sniper like accuracy, and I spent what remained of Sunday evening, feeling strangely optimistic after a marathon session, watching all I could find of the man’s output.

Of course, you were all totally on top of this years ago. I’m simply telling you what you already knew but damn it, you could have told me.

So here’s the deal; I’m going to try and pursue my new obsession and see what else I find inspirational and challenging, and then I’m going to indulge myself on this digital soap box, and take the liberty of mentioning or recommending it to you from time to time. And you are going to be patient and reserve your “yeah, we knew that already you dozy twat” comments, and perhaps you could occasionally drop me a line and tell me what else I should be checking out. After all, that’s what the Internet at it’s best, is meant for isn’t it? The sharing of information? Sieve through the crap and it seems that the golden nuggets appear.

Willie