Filthy Pedro - Filthy Pedro and the Carthaginians Album Review
During the 80's - a generally miserable decade for all concerned - a band from the Wirral called Half Man, Half Biscuit combined shambolic post C-86 sounds with a bemusing daft turn of phrase along the way capturing the imagination of that great lover of all things maverick, John Peel.
You sense that John peel would have loved Filthy Pedro & The Carthaginians, operating as they do on the basis of a similarly tenuous musical talent to HMHB. Filthy is exactly what this debut album is - never far away from a potty mouthed attack on one target or another, whilst sounding for the most part like an incompetently played version of Johnathan Richman's garage classic Roadrunner.
For Pedro read Simon Parry, formerly of Angelsey before being kicked out, for reasons made apparent here during the highly moving They Kicked Me Out of Angelsey. Parry is in fact the closest the British antifolk scene has to a mogul, curating its annual festival and generally acting as a boil on the bottom of anything resembling virtuosity and/or anyone taking themselves too seriously.
Those easily offended - like they'd be within a million miles of this record - had better stick to Pixie Lott.
Parry's determination to alienate everyone but the most ardent supporters is evident from the opening Rock n' Roll Points, during which the Keith Moon in him reveals a fascination for activities even a young Mick Jagger might've thought twice about doing. Probably. The previously mentioned Angelsey deportation song that follows also doubles up nicely as a bridge burning exercise should he ever contemplate a return, it's lyrics picking at every stereo-typical scab you imagine a Welsh town has heard before.
It would be lax of me here not to mention the frequent and unexplained historical references (As on Man I'm Old) and also as this is a family website to fail to warn people off trying the hangover cure described in What Goes Up. But although we're treated to the occasional tempo change via the hip-hop taunting Gilgamesh and Get Your Beak On neither are particularly funnier or more ironic than Goldie Lookin' Chain's Guns Don't Kill People, It's Just Rap. Equally, the constant scatological theme stops being even snigger-worthy to anyone over 14 at about the moment you realise that it's really just a test of your open mindedness.
So if you like your tunes a little less than polished but thinking above the belt, may I recommend "All I Want For Christmas Is a Dukla Prague Away Kit", safe in the knowledge that what was good enough for Mr. Peel will be good enough for you.
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