Union Synthy Blues
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"BROTHERS, brothers, PLEASE, if we can return to the motion on the table. 'This chapter of the Union of Sound Synthesists (Croydon, white notes only branch) wishes to express its extreme disgust, anger and dissatisfaction at the stifling bourgeois individualism of running-dog acousticos poisoning the lifeblood...'"
"Thank you brother Simon, 'poisoning the ARTISTIC lifeblood of forward looking synthesiser-manipulative electro-music construction/performance with the expressed diabolical bloody intent of thwarting said construction/performance — namely Kevin's mum unplugging his Casio during Top of the Pops.'"
"Thank you brother Simon but we can't really say artistic Casio can we? Oh yes, it's pretty and all that, but we're supposed to be the ones with the creative genius, aren't we. Start logging up points of inspirational endeavour to a £35 bit of black and white plastic and we've just flushed ourselves down the compositional porcelain."
"Point of information, Mr Chairman. As I have said on many occasions..."
"Yes brother Roger, we all know your views about the computer soul but really, a seance with your calculator that repeatedly marked out the word 'cell' is not conclusive proof of anything, other than your own inability to spell battery. Personally, I wouldn't trust your calculator to know its arse from its equals. Last time I used it to work out the chapter's financial report it told me we had 52 15½p stamps in the bank and were overdrawn at the laundrette. Try explaining to the under-departmental treasurer how we happen to be three shirts and a pillow case in the red and see if you like it."
"Exactly Mr Chairman, what we are trying to establish here is the inalienable right of all synthesiser-manipulative operators to express themselves in the waveform of their wishes."
"Unfortunately not, brother Simon. Waveforms don't come into it. If waveforms were the only problem, I'd be in the attic now, knocking back the pulses until the great God Oakey..."
"ALL PRAISE TO THE LORD OAKEY."
"....could tuck his fringe into his high heels. The problem we are facing is where brother Kevin has had his previously excellent communications with our comrades at the South Eastern Electricity Board severed by a unilaterally declared blockade of 13 amp sockets on the occasion of Depeche Mode making the hairs stand up on the back of the neighbour's cat.
"Having seen Kevin's mum in action I can understand his reluctance to engage her in a rationally constructed argument on the value of eclectic self expression in a framework of electronic/audio synopses and reckon that holding his breath until he turned blue was an admirable tactical alternative."
"Could it be entered in the minutes that we salute brother Kevin's valorous sacrifice in the service of electro-music construction/performance?"
"Certainly Sister Carol."
"And what was the result of his action?"
"The despicable fascist dictatorship of number 32 Conway Avenue manhandled Brother Kevin into a corner where his face wouldn't clash with the curtains."
"DEATH TO THE IMPERIALIST ACOUSTICOS. MAY THEIR STRINGS RUST UNTIL THE VERY END OF TIME AND ALL THE WOOD IN THEIR PIANOS GET THE BEETLE."
"Well said, brothers and sisters, well said. However, we are still left with the nutty little poser of Brother Kevin's disconnected Casio and what with the gig at the Filter of Thought Symposium and Free the Broadcasting House Oscillator Eleven Benefit coming up soon, we need all the rehearsal we can get."
"Perhaps the Parental Behaviour Analysis and Liaison sub-committee could send a strongly worded letter of protest to the fascist dictatorship in residence at number 32."
"A possibility, brother Martin, but unless it was in foot high letters on the back of the greenhouse I doubt the Conway Junta would give a rabbit's breakfast about such a communique. Anyway, the Parental Behaviour Analysis and Liaison sub-committee is currently in session trying to understand why Mrs Greenway has been biting the corners of brother Chuck Greenway's Soft Cell albums when he plays a C sharp. Also as to why she should have thrown a screaming fit on discovering brother Chuck had perfected his synthesised imitation of a car pulling up the drive and the front door opening while she was upstairs negotiating with the milkman on some fine details of yoghurt supply. It is a shame that even the most enlightened parents of the day cannot offer encouragement to the electro-music composers of the future — or at least refrain from clipping them round the ear.
"No I fear we must deal with brother Kevin's artistic subjugation ourselves. It is a time for bold and decisive action. Not since the Musicians Union Crisis of '82 have synthesiser-manipulative operators faced such a test of faith and conviction. The course of action I have prepared for us will demand daring, skill and split second timing that will make the SAS look like an episode of Coronation Street WITHOUT Stan Ogden.
"I plan to kidnap the Conway Avenue piano!"