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John Cooper Clarke - Snap, Crackle & Bop


On this date in 1980, John Cooper Clarke released his third album, Snap, Crackle & Bop. It contained the single, "Thirty Six Hours". John Cooper Clarke was a punk poet from Manchester, England, whose poems would often, but not always, be set to background music. And, oh yes, this single actually was hexagonal in shape. He opened for such bands as Buzzcocks, Sex Pistols, Joy Division and The Fall. He still performs.

Wikipedia: John Cooper Clarke

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munchausen said...

loved this album-especially beasley street.
saw him in 81(?) opening for new order-very funny guy

Club80 said...

I'm jealous, munchausen. Must have been a great show.

craig said...

Can You Believe I almost chatted with him as he moved through the crowd toward the stage, before his stint at a gig headlined by The Fall. My brain, quite rationally, crashed, shunting all impending trasmissions far from volt-sensitive receivers. I can only imagine that the preparatory calculations involved in reserving storage space that could be used optimally for allocation of data which might be either of much or many in character, probably both, revealed the inkling of a potential threat:-

A complexity of amassed tiny, bristling, particulate charge-carriers. Duteous to an individual. Uncommanding. Demanding no more, refusing no less, than the insubstantiate yield which is the combined harvests of the common resources of commitment and sacrifice. An elite unit, loyal, uncompromising, all-articulate. A semaphorically-guided spearhead of such versatility as lends discernment for subtleties of unveiling ceremony, protocol, and confers a geometry of barbedness, as to amount to a propensity for very Accomplishment. A congregate, selfless worshipper with eyes fixed heavenward. A pure and incorruptable soul in adulation of a truly Divine One. A face of innocence nourished in the light of reason.

What of reason though ? What tactician to describe the approach and effect the infiltration ? What key to decipher the codes, what ear to attend the buglers and what eye to read the flags ? What dilligent intellect to grace with fluidity the deployment of this mighty force ? Shock!

What an opportune time to lose that sense of familiarity JCC imparts to his audience when he reveals that friends call him Clarkey. The ensuing delay, added to the time spent generalising what I was trying to do, left the word I eventually uttered in a bid to address him hanging in the air aimless, inviting the attentions of those who had nothing better to do than ridicule the clown who'd shouted, 'Yo'.

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