Monday, August 9, 2010

I'd Love to Turn You On #15: Kimberley Rew - The Bible of Bop

    And it came to pass, in the land of Thatcher
when the Lord spoke unto the Children of Punk
saying Pick up thine plectrum, and write some nice tunes.
    And in the strong city of Cambridge
the Soft Boys took heed in the covenant,
and Robyn Hitchcock, who sojourned with Syd and Lennon,
brought forth songs of frogs and herds of beasts.
    Then the Soft Boys made ready their offerings
and God humbled them, and smote all commercial viability.
    And the Soft Boys begat Kimberley Rew
who was plenteous and fruitful with tunes,
and charged the Soft Boys to record their brethren
and not put on women's garments as Bowie had, for to do so
is an abomination unto the Lord and kind of tired anyway.
    So Rew sang forth, and praise the Pop
his works were wicked good. His guitar was heavy
with righteousness, his melodies maketh you skip
as a flock of shorn sheep in the land of Goshen.
    Thus some singles were cut, and the silence was rent
by more handclaps and harmonies, delivered on
”Stomping All Over the World” and “Hey, War Pig!”
made with the Waves.
    Who begat Katrina and the Waves, who would
come to bear Rew's “Walking on Sunshine”
which wise men say still holds dominion as a kick ass hit song,
and yea, would sound good on a mix tape after “Hollaback Girl.”
    And behold, Rew then sessioned with the dB's
who dwelt in the land of Martha Quinn, and verily rocked forth
with Mitch Easter on “My Baby Does Her Hairdo Long”
and others thereof.
    And the man had waxed very mighty, and went forth
to slay Philistines, his psalms gathered in the
Bible of Bop in the year nineteen hundred and eighty one.
    And twenty-nine years came to pass, three goodly bonus tracks
sprang forth and, according to the manner of the tribe,
a CD reissue was delivered hence via indie distribution.
    This is the disc the Lord doth appoint, saying,
Let the sons and daughters rock out to the
Bible of Bop
in their Father's house, but thou shalt forsake
downloading, for that is a profane abomination.
     Woe unto thee who doth not Trust in Bop. A-men.


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