Scrapping With Rap

NME Feature - 29.10.88 (Writer: Steven Wells)

As Def Jam's happy rap panto rolls through Europe Pop Will Eat Itself and Public Enemy are getting on fine. Unfortunately the hordes of Belgian B-Boys HATE the Poppies and the feeling is pretty mutual.

"We are going down on this tour like Sammy Davis Junior at Nuremberg..."

The sweat glands on my slippery palms spurt like lagered blue whales with cystitis. For days now - in the Jacuzzi, in my kennel and on the ferry over - I've been practising those two little words of greeting: "Yo Clint!".... "Yo Clint!"... "Yo Clint!" over and over. Like I said, real nervous.

Pop Will Eat Itself to tour Europe with Public Enemy and Run DMC? Terrif wheeze! The only (ex) indie combo who had the ovaries to take RAP smack on! The band who translated that friction into the fabgear "Defcon 1" and the EPIC but lyrically dodgy "Beaver Patrol" and scraped the HEAVENS themselves with the savagely FON reworked bastardising of Sigue Sigue Gonk's "F1-11" - creating one of the SEXIEST pop records of all time! The bunch of well-mannered proto-poonkyobs with their fingers on the pulse of rap's throbbing progression from angry doggerel to the slashing edge of POP who sometimes whacked their heads so far up their spotty bottoms that they could look through their own teeth whist screaming "SEXIST!? US?" - on tour with "the greatest rock and roll band in the world" EXCLAMATION MARK! QUESTION MARK!?

Is this the biggest white rock wish-fulfilment trip since The Cult were allowed to nuzzle up to Rick Rubin's furry gut-wig or what?

"Not really," says Sir Richard Poppie, "I always wanted to be a train driver".

AMSTERDAM, ROTTERDAM, UTRECHT! IN FULL EFFEKT! Let us take you down to the very depths of spunk stiffened bunk-bed sex romping, ligger frenzy and Belgian spitmania. This was the two day tour where you could crack the pillows in half and only the alsatians were friendly. This was:

Two Daze of Phlegm, Big Boy's Humour and Dog Sex!

Starring:

Chuck E as Chuck E. Egg
Adam Mole as Jesus Christ Junior
Clint Poppie as punk poet John Cooper
Graham Poppie as Professor Piehead from Viz Comics
Gradely Cummins as Egon "Terminator Manc" Ronay
Richard Poppie as Shergar the Super Lizard
Derek B as Mr. Showbiz!
Flavor Flav as in "If you want to know the time as a complete nutter"

and

Dave Beer the Roadie as a pain in the arse

It is after the first gig and our four heroes have been soundly spanked offstage by a bunch of Belgian B-boys dressed in the type of gangster clobber that would cause screaming fits in Carnaby Street.

This, only days after their savaging at the hands of the firebomb tossing Brixton mob, was unexpected.

"Presumably, when we come to Europe we'll be getting more of a pop fan at the gigs," said a hopeful Richard. WRONG! The tentacles of the pig-ignorant Rap Jihad stretch even to this boring Benelux shithole and they HATE you!

After the Brixton Gig Clint had his hand soundly shook by Chuck E whilst Derek "The Arfur" B told the lads: "We've both got the problem that we're not from New York. You've got the extra problem of not being black..."

We are on the coach, not daring to go back into the seething hall to see Public Enemy. Lensman Gradely had to thump one bloodKrAzEd gibbering spitter who rammed him and tried to smash his Nikon.

"I had to twat the bastard with me camera!" snarls Cummins, a man battle-hardened on the terraces of Maine Road but who was shocked at tonight's display of fan-terror. After the first few beers the Poppies will be merely miserable. After lots more they will want to kill.

Clint will explode in bloodlust as he focuses on the face of the fan whose spitting reduced his once "is he wearing harmony hairspray" locks into a gungey furball reminiscent of the coat of a Yorkshire Terrier severely spermed over by a randy elephant with a nasty plumbing problem.

"I'll f-ing kill him! No way would he drop me! SMACK SMACK! Right in the f-ing face! There's no way someone gobs in my face and gets away with it! If I had that bloke here now I'd smash his f-ing face in! I mean I'm not violent or anything, I don't go looking for fights..."

He will smash the coach table with two Hulk-like fists and scream "f-ing BELGIAN BASTARD" spending a mammoth tidal wave of spilt lager all over my jeans (to be later sucked dry by a thirsty Gradely, Yo!) But for now, as I have said, they are merely SAD!

RICHARD: "This one kid who was throwing things at me had "breakdance" written down the side of his jacket, stuck on in felt letters! A particularly cool character..."

CLINT: "I think our music should cross over to people who liked "Walk This Way" or "She's On It" or "Fight For Your Right To Party" but it ain't gonna happen under these circumstances..."

GRAHAM: "There was a hell of a lot of people here tonight who wanted to be American, it was all handshakes and slapping each other..."

RICHARD: "It's like crap Europunx basically. Their Dad's been over to England on a business trip and he's brought back a copy of The Sun..."

CLINT: "But once you attract a trouble image it's like Jimmy Sham crying on stage going -`Don't do it, don't do it, I love you people!` - it's pissing in the wind, these people like doing it... What if one of those kids had got on stage? The only thing would be to deck the kid and stop it before it starts..."

GRAHAM: "I was waiting for one of them to get close enough..."

CLINT: "...because if they all get up they're going to beat the shit out of us. And what a pathetic thing that is! I mean it comes to something when you get a Belgian B-Boy being precious about where his music comes from! It's f-ing ludicrous really."

RICHARD: "It's like a black ompah band getting stick off a black crowd in a New York bier keller because they're not white enough and that is f-ing MENTAL!"

CLINT: "With the gig in Amsterdam tomorrow we'll just go out there and try again. I guess you're always thinking it's going to be better."

Scene 2: The Glistening Bank

It is Day One and we see a younger and happier Poppies. Little Graham has asked me out for a fight because I have teased him about his vegetarianism. Adam has told me about the strange objects - mint imperials, umbrellas and lighted balls of lighter fuel soaked paper - that have bounced off his skull in the last few days. Clint raves about the intense spiritual beauty of the Likely Lads script.

"What the hell has gone wrong with TV comedy?" he asks angrily. "I mean you'd see the Likely Lads and you'd think yeah, that's right! I mean in the movie James Bolam goes - "Y'know, I've learnt nothing! If they buried me tomorrow then over me tombstone it'd have "None the Bloody Wiser" - and that's true!"

"In the chocolate box of life," quotes Adam, "my top layer's gone and someone's nicked all the orange creams off the bottom - what a f-ing brilliant analogy!"

"Kenneth Williams goes into this bog," says Richard, "for a dump and when he comes out he bumps into Jim Dale and he says - I'd give it a minute if I were you! - AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! What a porker!"

The Clint tries to convince me that he is "Mr. Sex On Stage". I challenge him to give me a stiffie but he declines, telling me to watch the show tonight when he guarantees I will be "on the bone". How exciting! I wonder if the rest of the band have to keep nipping behind the stacks for a crafty Sherman when Clint is `performing`? Have they ever tried to couple with him during a gig?

"Not yet," He murmurs, "but I've had to beat them off, Get DOWN there! Gerroff!"

Clint reveals that his bum is an erogenous zone.

"Let's face it, if your bird plays with your bum it's very nice, isn't it? Check it out, kids, it's one of the greets!"

What a terrible New Mannish thing to say! Do you think you've mellowed out on the sexism front since Beaver Patrol?

Adam snarls: "We learnt our lesson because of you, ya -!"

Cruelty Without Beauty - A Guide to Rock Wisdom

DAVE BEER: Flashbacks are for puffs what can't handle their drugs.

RICHARD: Now we're on RCA, Rick Astley is paying for this tour. It was his round and he said - "What are you having lads?" And we said, We'll have a world tour with Public Enemy, ta very much mate.

CLINT: I think that once you start to think you're the best band in the world you turn into turgid stodge like U2...

CLINT: This tour is sponsored by Body Shop. We got all the gear. The orchid oil cleansing milk, the white grape tonic water. I would've got the Japanese washing grains but you can't get a big enough thing and you need about f-ing 80 of them but I got me Mostly Men No. 2 sandalwood aftershave.

ADAM: Actually, I'd love to take a monkey on tour with us but the problem is they shit everywhere, don't they?

CLINT: Adidas are sponsoring the tour and so Craig phoned 'em up. We'd thought they'd send some crappy 1975 PVC trainers. And they did.

ADAM: So how come they didn't send Barbara Ellen instead of you, you ugly bastard?

CLINT: All our new stuff sounds like Sisters of Mercy if you take out the samples.

RICHARD: You know something, Swells? You look like Mole out of Wind in the Willows when you get excited...

ADAM: My ambition is that I'd like to have more hair than Gary Numan...

CLINT: Don't talk to me about Wagner! Wagner is wank!

ADAM: Wendy James. She's a bimbo, but she's really good looking.

CHUCK E: Tracy Chapman don't mean shit to black people. If the shit don't hit you here and here then the shit don't mean shit!

DAVE BEER: Chuck E? What does he f-ing know about milking pigeons?

GRAHAM: (In an Indonesian restaurant) Here! The daft c-'s gone and poured chocolate sauce over me chicken 'n' peanuts!

Scene 3: Chuck E's In Luv

It's after the Amsterdam gig. The Poppies don't know it yet, but they are about to be kicked off the tour. When they started "Grebo Guru" a large part of the crowd started thrashing enthusiastically but towards the end of the number enough gob and glasses had made their way onto the stage for the band to stomp off in disgust. A guitar is left smashed against an amp, feedback screams around the venue. When it stops, the crowd jeers and whistles. The Poppies are pissed off to the max. I pop backstage to lend my hankie and find Clint engrossed in conversation with Chuck E. Worra scoop! Forgetting that I am supposed to be on Public Enemy's hate-list I whip out my Professional Walkman and introduce myself. "Hi," I smile, "I'm Steven Wells!"

"AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGH!" says El Chucko. "YOU AAAAAAAARGH!" He bolts erect, grabs a beatbox and pretends to machine gun me into spurting mince.

Crikey! I think. But it's OK, readers - the beatbox is unloaded and Chuck is only joshing. Seems he wasn't too sure about me but his lawyer is a Seething Wells fan from way back and he put Chuck straight. Yes, bloody mental or what? So what does Rap's mainman think of PWEI's treatment? It wasn't so long back that PE were in a similar position, third on the bill supporting the Beastie Boys and the hardcore Murphy's Law in front of punk audiences in the US.

"It was more fun playing in front of startled faces than it was in front of people going "WWWWWAAAUUUGH!" because you've got something to prove." Chuck tells me. "You have PWEI which is a hybrid of rock and rap and they still got to go through that rocky road of being accepted because rap is established now. Keep doing it, keep on doing it and force it down their throats.

"Maybe people won't listen. Not the first time - maybe not the second time. You got to drill a hard head. The western media indoctrinated you into seeing things the way they want you to see them. You got to break that media infiltration! If they think that rap is this or it's only one sort of music you got to break that! You got to come along with a music that is strong and keep doing it. Bringing attention to yourself is the number one goal - whether it's good or bad. I mean if they're goin' - Oh man, did you see that first group? Oh man! They were f-ed up! But what about the second band? Huh, oh yeah, they were, um, OK.... See what I mean? Like and dislike is the same emotion, love-hate OK... See what I mean?"

"You understand? If they hate you - you're public enemy. Never be average or mediocre. That's the worst shit! I remember our first tour, the Richmond show, we played the Public Enemy tone throughout the whole show. Shit! Were they f-ed up! Kids were tugging at their moms, people were running for the exit, someone called the fire department - they thought it was an air raid! They hated it, but they remembered us!"

As PWEI mournfully pack up to go home to Stourbridge in the morning, me and Kevin arrange an on-coach cabaret to cheer them up. First of all Kev sings "My Way" and then he whacks on an Acid track to which I dance and blow a whistle wearing a giant furry snake and some mirror shades and an NME hat - it is a truly erotic experience which shows up all these dorks down the discos with their gypsy clobber, Travolta moves and strange drugs for the no-hopers they are - and then I do some poems. Kevin is laughing so much that he leans his entire 15 stone against a bunk bed which rips off the wall with a sickening screech. As we are all dead scared of the moany scrote, we don't say anything but Kev sticks it back in place with some chewy.

"Swells," growls an unamused Adam "Shut the f-ck up until your balls drop."

"You'll know when they do." I retort wittily, "'cos they'll drop in your face." Then we surround RCA press officer Dave "Irma" Harper - brother of UK Sub Charlie - and tell him to get the beers in. In a few hours time I will have drunk PWEI under the table again by the cunning but simple tactic of quaffing one ale to their six. What a terrible job.

Later on, when me and Kev are comfortably crashed out in the bridal suite of the exclusive Hotel Quentin, (not the one next to the slaughterhouse) a large roadie will drunkenly clamber onto the hastily repaired bunk. It will tear out of its sockets and crush a small band member sleeping below.

This is rock and roll and like I told the band - they were great. It was the audience that was shit.