ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
A Betoota Heights father staring down the prospect of having a third child under three next year is pleading with the nation’s most successful musical act to add a bit of spice to their music before his brain collapses in on itself.
For the first year or so, Mike Albano said The Wiggles just went in one ear and out the other. He could drive around all day listening to the yellow one croon on about his car and whatnot.
But soon the Pink Floyd, Supertramp and Beatles he played while alone, to putty up the cracks of age in his soul, stopped doing their magic.
As the second child came, so to did yet another Wiggles LP. The same time signature, a drumbeat famous for putting the purple one to sleep. No real pop. Not much in the way of melody. A chorus that could only get an evangelical can out of its seat.
“It’s The Monkees are they’ve been put through a hotwash after being soaked in Napisan. It’s doing my fucking head in and I just want to cry but if I turn it off, they scream and when they scream, I want to scream and if I scream, they scream even more and I don’t want to fuck up raising them so they grow up to fucking hate me and never speak to me,” said Mike quickly.
He stopped himself and put his head in his hands. By now, most of the McDonalds our reporter was interviewing Mr Albano inside was looking at him.
“All I’m asking for is a fucking guitar solo or something. I’m not talking about Randy Rhodes face-melter or a David Gilmour soul-warper. I just want a run of the fucking mill Lindsay Buckingham. Fuck me dead, I’ll even take a 17-minute Neil Young solo that only uses six notes!”
“Anything! Also, they need to fuck that drummer off. Put in some animal with two 15×26 bass drums, a 12×14 rack tom, 16×16 and 16×18 floor toms, the cheapest symbals money can buy and a snare that sounds like a fucking .303 going off inside a portaloo. Fuck you!”
“Pair him up with a bass player who calls in sick on Cliff Burton’s birthday and you’ve got a solid foundation on which to build so actual fucking music! God! This whole chat has got me seriously fucking jacked. Yeah! Punch me!”
Our reporter opted to just go.
More to come.
