In praise of John Cooper Clarke...

[slowmotion]

Nico from the Velvet Underground?

 

[Stephenite]

The very same Nico.

 

[Tim Hall]

From the interview in The Guardian:

I love being on my bike, but I don’t consider that a sport: it’s too pleasant

That's alright.

 

[slowmotion]

The very same Nico.

I saw her in Cambridge in 1975, I think. She was dressed all in black, and had a harmonium. She walked round the stage and shimmied, before launching into her opening number...

Deutschland Uber Alles

Fabulous!

 

[Accy cyclist]

Do you think he dyes his hair?

His hair?!

 

[Maenchi]

this thread takes me back......I went to a Nico gig in the Marples in Sheffield. maybe '83, and John Cooper Clarke in the Leadmill maybe '87, both were just great in their way....

 

[Basil.B]

He's done some good work,
Saw him back in1982 as a support for the Banshees, was very good I seem to recall.

 

[Accy cyclist]

How come no one's mentioned that poem of his where the title rhymes with hat?

 

[FishFright]

Can’t quite get over John Cooper Clarke and Nico living together in Brixton. Bizarre. Love Beasley Street and Kung Fu International.

Was it Brixton or Chicken town*? Heroin addicts do tend to flock together.

*How shocked was I to hear Evidently Chicken Town on The Sopranos ??

 

[GuyBoden]

Can’t quite get over John Cooper Clarke and Nico living together in Brixton.

They also lived in Prestwich, near Mark Edward Smith's territory.

 

[User10571]

Let me be your vacuum cleaner
Let me breathe your dust
Let me be your Ford Cortina
Promise I'll not rust


It doesn't get much better.
Other than Beasley Street.

 

[User10571]

Except when it’s “I wanna be yours”?

My bad.
Soz.

 

[Proto]

They also lived in Prestwich, near Mark Edward Smith's territory.

Spooky! I lived in Prestwich for a year when I was at uni.

 

[Accy cyclist]

He was doing a "gig" in Lytham St Anne last year.That's a pretty hoity toity place. I can't see his er hum,poetry going down well in such a place.

 

[Poacher]

Each November, Mrs Poacher does shoeboxing (gifts for poor kids in foreign climes, usually in Africa and eastern Europe). For the past few years, Boots have allowed use of one of their empty buildings on the Beeston complex. Last November was shaping up to be no different - the shoeboxers were assured they would be welcome again. Then, very late in October, some weaselly manager told them they wouldn't be allowed on site due to "Health & Safety Issues". He refused to specify what these issues were, and ignored requests for a face-to-face meeting, the cowardly daffodil. At such short notice, the shoeboxers were relieved to be offered an empty warehouse in one of the least salubrious streets in the generally insalubrious district of Bulwell, in NW Nottingham - Greasley Street in case anyone fancies checking it out on streetview. It's the kind of place where you'd want to keep your parked car in view, and carry a big stick just in case.
As a token of my love, I printed the lyrics of Beasley Street, replacing all references of Beasley with Greasley, thinking this might at least raise the depressed spirits of Mrs Poacher and her colleagues.
How wrong could I be?