In these mixed up muddled up ol'days, every fucker thinks they are undiscovered genius's just waiting for that chance to unleash their greatness upon an unsuspecting public. The trouble with that assumption is that the public all think they are undiscovered genius's as well. Its like that Monty Python sketch where everyone is Superman,except for one special superman who,when needed, becomes Bicycle Repair man,racing to the assistance of any unfortunate super hero with a flat tyre.
In Kenneth Higney's day,the world was full of Bicycle Repair Men when it came to music. It was impossible to be Emerson,Lake and Palmer,unless you had a million quid to splash on walls of modular moog's,stainless steel drum kits,and three articulated lorries to spoil the public with your undeniable skills.
Nowadays every fucker has a home studio,and has an album out,or is in a fucking band all playing shiny new instruments.
Then,oh shit!, "the Great British Mistake", Punk Rock, broke and the DIY dream started. Great! We can all be pop stars now.What a fucking well-intentioned fuck up that turned out to be?
If I hear another harsh fucking noise project by wee willy and his hip granny i'm gonna burn my Beatles records...again! What's the point in making music at all if everyone's doing it.....(h)'elp!Come Back ELP, all is forgiven....the problem with that damn fine Idea is that only 'P' is still with us,having lost 'E' and 'L' to suicide and cancer some years hence.
In 1976 Ken,a true Rock Star's name if ever there wasn't one(?), self-released this LP in the hopes of garnering attention for his tenuous songwriting skills.Slightly Ironic because he obviously didn’t have any.He,and group, did,however, have the envious ability of naturally owning a very wobbly understanding of syncopation,harmony,and/or melody.Rhythm appears to be a foreign country for Ken and his chums it seems.
Yes,by accepted standards,old and new, this album is total crap,but, healthy crap floats to the surface of a cesspit that is the charmless modern machine played poop which trains the brains of our charmless children.Give us something less desperate, honest, with imperfect perfection like a diamond on a turd,or a sapphire strewn necklace around Adele's newly slim neck.
In short,Stop fucking singing,put your ramones T-shirt in the trash, and go get an office job,or an HGV licence. That's the new Punk Rock, telling your hip black leather wearing tattooed Mom and Pop that you're gonna get a Job. That should fuck 'em up,the lazy climate destroying cunts that they are.
I discovered this short,stupid, but succinct review on Discogs:
Er..yeah....but!?...Some people just don't get it do they?
1 Night Rider 2:34
2 Children Of Sound 3:18
3 Rock Star 5:49
4 Can't Love That Woman 3:38
5 Look At The River 3:40
6 Quietly Leave Me 2:41
7 Let Us Pray 5:11
8 I'll Cry Tomorrow 3:16
9 No Heavy Trucking 2:18
10 Funky Kinky 5:35
11 I Wanna Be The King 3:04