scans.
DOIN' IT FOR THE LIDS
• No-one's more surprised by the success of their latest 45 'Kill Your Television' than NED'S ATOMIC DUSTBIN, the Four (erm, make that five) Dustmen Of The Rock Apocalypse who live with their mums and Just Say No. Getting them home by midnight: SIMON WILLIAMS
The other day in London was amazing - we stayed in our first proper
hotel! We were getting cabs across town and asking the driver to take
us to Lancaster Gate Hotel! We didn't know what the hell we were doing!
It was pathetic, we were giggling all night! Everything we did we were
just pissing ourselves!"
They go on 'Shit Jokes About Fish' tours. They model fringes which would
shame Phil Oakey in his follicle-flowing prime. They're just beginning
to appreciate the benefits of pop infamy. They've dragged me off to
a terrible Heavy Metal pub in uptown Birmingham. And Ned's Atomic Dustbin
yesterday discovered that their new single, 'Kill Your Television',
has entered the midweek charts at number 42.
"It's f——ing ace!" gasps vocalist Jonn. "We
can't believe it!"
"I phoned up everyone," beams guitarist Rat. "Six months
ago you wouldn't have thought this could possibly happen. It's outrageous!"
"You never think you're releasing a 'proper' record," frowns
bassist Alex. "All the time you're thinking 'We can't
be as proper as other bands'."
" Even your family don't get the idea, really," elaborates
Jonn. "I showed mine the single and they said,'Oh, it looks quite
professional', as if to say we're not really a proper band."
"You have to bring it down to what they understand," rejoins
Alex. "Their idea of fame is Rod wearing our T-shirt on Eastenders,
and the fact that we're playing Wolverhampton's Wulfrun Hall, which
is near where my Nan lives. She saw the gig advertised in the Express
& Star and 'cos she walks past the venue every day she
thinks we've made it - we're bigger than Cliff Richard!"
ON NOVEMBER 8,1987, five loosely-related characters (Jonn, Alex, Rat,
drummer Dan and absent second bassist Mat) collected in a rancid rehearsal
room in the West Midlands. After two years of writing, rehearsing and
in some cases learning instruments from scratch, Ned's Atomic Dustbin
stumbled out of Stourbridge in late 1989, hitched a ride on The Wonder
Stuff's winter tour and have staggered everyone's expectations ever
since. In Jonn's own words, "1990 has been brilliant. I don't think
we've landed this year, it's been mad!"
Support slots with Jesus Jones and The Seers plus their own headline
jaunt have attracted punters to the Neds' boisterous blend of melody,
aggression and the nifftiest riffs this side of Fraggle Rock like lemmings
to the seaside. Their debut 'Ingredients' EP tainted the Top 100. Their
retina-blitzing shirts have been selling like airflights out of Albania.
And, like Carter and The Senseless Things, the Neds have successfully
tapped into a fresh, devoted, adolescent audience torn between 'O' level
studies and gig-bound stupidity.
"I think it's because we're young, fast and exciting," states
Jonn. "It's as< simple as that. Some bands have got pathetic
attitudes which makes followers not want to be part of them: they'll
go to a one-off gig but they won't follow them anywhere..."
"Whereas people appreciate that we're down to earth and not pretending
to be anything," continues Alex. "We talk to people normally-
we aren't talking down to them and they aren't looking up at us. They
just come to see a good gig and we playa good gig."
THE STANDOUT track on the 'Kill Your Television' EP is entitled 'That's
Nice'. With its knee-trembling refrain of "Keep your money,
it's my shout/You're the best there is no doubt," it
resembles nothing less than a gentleman's advocation of true love. Beneath
the cuddly chorus however, there lurks a bitterly sarcastic diatribe
against the monstrous music industry.
Following similar lines of logic, are we to assume that 'Kill Your Television'
itself is slyly encouraging the cathode ray-numbed population to rise
from their arse-softening armchairs and overthrow the Government?
"Alex had it on a sticker on his bass," explains Jonn. "I
thought, that looks cool, it'd make a really good title. And I thought
well, why should you wanna kill your TV? It just so happened that on
the tour we were doing then, every time we had a day off these wankers
(points to the rest of the band) would sit and watch
soap operas all the time! I loathe them!! They drive me up the wall!"
"I love them!" gurgles Rat. "They're brilliant!"
"No, no, just kill it!" rages Jonn. "Stab your TV with
a knife!"
Somewhat ironic then, that it appeared on The Chart Show?
"Yeah, exceptionally," admits the singer. "How stupid
was it doing the video for a song called 'Kill Your Television'? Although
it's not a 'proper' video, it's a recording of a gig at Dudley JB's,
so we weren't really guilty on that front. But slogans are great, especially
when they don't mean a lot and you get loads of people shouting it."
"When we played in Liverpool some bloke dived onstage," froths
Rat. "He must have been on drugs or something 'cos he was running
around backstage yelling MY TV'S NOT DEAD! MY TV'S NOT DEAD, IT REALLY
ISN'T DEAD!!!!' One of our crew had to separate his bollocks with his
left knee..."
"PAH! BARF! Vom!" squeal the cynics. "That's just the
kind of pathetic behaviour we expect from a bunch of crap-haired degenerates
like them! Spit!"
To the aesthetically principled floating among us, Ned's Atomic Dustbin
are a scummy, scabby eyesore; morons whose 'music' is as much junk as
Big Mac 'n' fries to go and whose fans beg for beer money and keep stinking
semi-starved mongrels on bits of string. To them, Ned's Atomic Dustbin
are the pus-filled zit on the backside of contemporary music and the
Black Country is the faeces stain on the glorious cultural map of Britain.
Possibly.
"The thing is, if we are the zit on the backside of music, it's
not doing anything to hinder us... so we might just turn into an extra
buttock!" Jonn's pissed, readers. "It's alright if we offend
people for decent reasons, but the thing that really pisses me off is
when people get offended simply 'cos we're Midlanders. They don't wanna
talk to us or respect us 'cos of where we come from!"
"As soon as we open our gobs, everyone thinks we're as thick as
shit!" complains Rat.
Between the five of them, Ned's Atomic Dustbin possess 33 'O' levels
and can claim involvement in ten 'A' level courses curtailed by a non-curricular
activity known as pop music. Yet, for all their academic promise, don't
the Neds ever get the devilish urge to stuff a kitten full of fireworks
and slyly offer said feline a cigarette?
"Not really," shrugs Jonn, "that's too rock 'n' roll,
isn't it?"
The hedonistic illusion-shattering doesn't end there: Ned's Atomic Dustbin
- none of whom are over 21, admittedly - all live in their family homes
("What's wrong with that?' snaps Rat. "My mum's the best mum
in the world!"), always go on stage stone cold sober and abstain
from the dubious pleasures of narcotics. If they weren't actually sitting
in front of me guzzling lethal Guinness snakebites, I'd be tempted to
type that the Neds make Noddy look like Sid Vicious.
"Jonn said ages ago that we wanna be conscious of what we've achieved,"
continues Alex, "And you can hardly be conscious if you're stoned
all the time, can you? How ludicrous is it that some people can't remember
the best years of their lives?"
So after the gig, Ned's Atomic Dustbin go home to their mummywummies,
sippywippy their Ovaltinies and sleepyweepy with their teddy bears,
yeah?
"Waaah! No no no!!" protests Jonn. "We know how to party
when we feel like it, but there's a time and a place for all that. Anyway,
we're so nervous we don't need anything - we thrive on nerves, so being
onstage is so brilliant it must be like speed."
"It makes you laugh," beams Alex. "You go onstage and
you think, 'F—— me, I'm so nervous I'm gonna laugh', ha
ha ha!"
FOR NED'S Atomic Dustbin, the laughter is only just beginning. With
the Poppies crawling onto Top Of The Pops after half
a decade of slog and downright slobbery while the Stuffies suffer at
the hands of their own cynicism, seemingly incapable of enjoying their
own success, the Neds - overflowing with enthusiasm rather than full
of themselves - seem set to steal the Stourbridge (s)limelight.
"One of the things about everything happening so quickly is that
you get confused about your goals," muses Jonn." I had goals
three months ago and I've reached them already! There doesn't seem to
be any relation between what you're aiming for and actually achieving
it. It's really weird; at times it feels like we had no part in it.
So I'm gonna give up on aims and just go for it!"
Go for what exactly, Jonn?
"Everything! I'd like to be massively famous!"
"Everyone wants to be the biggest thing ever," agrees an adamant
Alex. "We're certainly no exception."