Once we got drunk and decided to start a xylophone-punk band. I reckon 90% of people have had one of those heavy nights that’s eventually led to someone suggesting they start a ‘insert comedy instrument here’-punk band. You know, Jimmy, he plays the recorder right? Well not well, but he can play Little Donkey almost. We’ll do a recorder-punk band. It’ll be fucking great. I learn how to play an E on guitar in GCSE music, I’ll shred like a motherfucker. Then Julie, right, she can do bass. Like, how hard can that be, just flicking the strings. Jesus, child’s play right? Fuck melodies as well, this is punk, we can be lazy. Same three chords, and Jimmy can fucking layer Little Donkey all over it. David can do drums. Well, percussion. Actually, a Pringles can and a shoebox. It’s lo-fi anyway yeah, what more does music need? A singer? Fuck it, we’ll give Geoff two pints of milk, make him down them both and then just record him as he violently vomits his dinner and two pints of milk all over the place. Punk rock.
Pipes and Pints are that band. But with bagpipes. Terrible, derivative and tuneless, it’s not off to the best start ever, and then some utter bastard plays fucking bagpipes everywhere and makes it unlistenable, terrible, derivative and tuneless. This is actually the worst thing I have ever heard. Ever.
Kieran