Wupting Back Ache

My fucking back is killing me! I have to work for a living - self employed tiler and I've been working like a frog looking for water. I was gonna put 'like a dog' but dogs don't really work do they? They just laze around, shit on pavements and sniff other dogs' arses. Unlike a frog looking for water, because when I lived / worked in Greece it was a particularly hot summer and the stream that normally reduces to a trickle in the hotter months, had actually dried up. I was working at a house with a swimming pool and an army of frogs came leaping up the mountain to the pool for water.
Anyway, I digress. I've really put my back [sic] into work this week and have suffered terribly. Someone told me most back sprains are caused when putting on your socks or underwear, this doesn't affect me as I never take mine off (heh heh heh!). Mine is caused by hard physical labour, and sitting here upright typing doesn't help either.
The only way I made it thru the day is with the trusted iPod - I've snared the computer speakers off the Crudlets' PC, plugged the iPod into them and voila! I can happily (happily? you are kidding...) tile away, free from wires. Today I listened to Green Dragon's Bite Size Bonus from last Tuesday. Gruff Rhys' excellent Candylion LP - the 14min song 'Skylon' is a masterpiece, and also listened back to my latest Crud Cast, which I recorded last night... Oh dear, it's a bit raucous innit?! Alcohol should be avoided when broadcasting - how many times did I say 'cunt' ? The music was ace though, Klaus Kinski are amazing! And in Captain Hotknives I think we've found ourselves regular entertainment....! Anyway, take a listen, you will regret it..!!
Alaska's WUPT have long been regular participants to my website and my show - and one sure way of getting airplay is to ply me with gifts - like a nice spanking new t-shirt...!!!!!

The teabags here at Crud Towers have run out, the fridge is void of milk, there's large spaces in the larder and I haven't had the time for shopping. The remainder of the bottle of whisky I nicked on the night of The Gathering (it's a long story) has to suffice as beverage - it's disgusting! How I long for a cup of tea.

CrudCast #3

Just went out tonight, and what a mad mix it was. Streaming quality is still ropey as hell — sounds like you’re listening through a wet sock at 24k — but that’s the state of the net in 2001. Doesn’t matter though, because the content carried it, well almost...

We kicked things off with The BT Call, still the funniest phone rage ever captured: some poor chimp at BT phoning an angry Geordie who threatens to wring his “scrawny fucking neck.” Proper gold.

Then it was into the music:

• FLINCH – “Lucky”
  Wrexham lads, smartly dressed, semi-metal with a melodic crunch. “Lucky” is their best tune so far — tight, heavy, catchy.

• CARPET – “One Two Fuck You” (Live)
  Straight out of Rhyl, recorded at The Breeding Ground. Rough, loud, and couldn’t care less. Pure live chaos, bottled.

• HYFRYD
  From the warped head of Johnny R-Bennig, all the way from Gwalchmai. Twisted, surreal, and sounds like it was beamed in from another planet, as was Johnny.

• SKINFLICK – “Two Ton Loser”
  Bangor’s mutant industrial punk crew, always up to strange nocturnal antics. They don’t play by anyone’s rules, and this track proves it.

• HOBO – “Trencherman”
  Ended on something special. “Trencherman” is just wonderful — deep, sprawling, and sticks in your head long after.

So yeah, that was the show. Rough stream, local bands, weird humour, angry Geordies,

[AUDIO LONG SINCE REMOVED - NOTHING LASTS FOREVER - YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT BY NOW]

The Birth of Crud

It was the 30th of August, 1986, and I was in my flat on Ellesmere Road, Colwyn Bay. I remember it well — one of those warm days when you’ve got the rickety shash windows open and the world just drifts in. That afternoon, I started hearing the thud of drums and raw guitars echoing across from beyond the main road. It sounded good. Really good. Curious, I followed the noise.

The music was coming from the Rydal School playing fields — an open-air punk gig / summer fete happening right in the middle of Colwyn Bay. Rydal was a private school, and not exactly unfamiliar territory. Being teenagers, we’d often skulk around there, full of adolescent hormones and the daft idea that we might catch a glimpse into the girls' showers.

On stage was a Welsh punk band called Anhrefn, delivering a fierce, rebellious set. I’d actually heard them just the week before, doing a session on John Peel’s show on Radio One. Seeing them live was something else — wild, Welsh, loud, and absolutely vital.

Sharing the bill were another band from Bangor called The Paraletics, just as raucous, just as raw. Their guitarist, Jez, ended up getting told off mid-set by — of all things — an angry clown, furious about his swearing. You couldn’t make it up.

As the bands played, I was appraoched by a guy selling fanzines. One stood out immediately — ROX, thrown together by John Robb of The Membranes, a maniacal noise outfit from Blackpool. I’d flicked through countless 'zines over the years, but this one had a real charge to it. It was anarchic, urgent, buzzing with DIY spirit.

I’d been keeping a scrapbook since leaving school three years earlier, full of oddball newspaper cuttings, satirical bits, and funny headlines. As I thumbed through ROX, I thought, Why not do something with all that? Maybe put together a fanzine of my own.

When I mentioned it to Edi, he took the idea a step further.

"Why don’t we do a ragmag-type magazine for the Bay?" he said.

I paused. "Yeah. But what the hell would we call it?"

Edi didn’t even flinch. "Well," he said, with a perfectly timed pause, "Crud."

And that was it. That was the moment it began — on a late summer day in Colwyn Bay, fuelled by punk noise, DIY attitude, and a clown with a grudge.