Dominic Valvona

Idiot Blur Fanboy   ‘Oasis Are The Enemy’
(Wormhole World)   LP/6th March 2020

There’s that 70s interview between goading miscreant music writer Lester Bangs and his idol Lou Reed, the one where Bangs baits his subject, hitting on a nerve in taking a pop at the former Velvet darling’s current foil and champion David Bowie, who’s star was of course in ascendance, a consequence of which was reviving Lou’s solo career. Bangs however accuses Bowie, Nosferatu style, of bloodsucking on Lou’s creative life force for his own ends; at one point he opines that Bowie wasn’t even a good songwriter, and that he hadn’t written anything even as good or lasting as Sam The Sham’s ‘Wooly Bully’. Tenuous, but in the same ballpark, cult leader of the stalwart lo fi Bordellos and a myriad of sporadic side-projects, Brian Shea recently posted a series of charity shop bin-fodder and kitsch albums (from the early 90s cast of Coronation Street to Bruce Forsyth) he, as scornfully goading as Bangs and hoping for a similar rise, stated were better than Oasis’s grand opus, Be Here Now. He had a point.

Under the guises of the Idiot Blur Fanboy, Brian’s latest dysfunctional and despondent Tascam rubber-band four-track triumph Oasis Are The Enemy pours a bucket of cold sick over not only the sorry excuse for a Ruttles tribute band but their mockney middleclass rivals Blur. But this isn’t just an obsessive ranting diatribe – even if the George Formby meets Mark E Smith twat-gait breezy ‘Liam Gallagher’ ditty is an excuse to take a pop: “Walks like he shat himself, sings like a spud” -; more a title and lyric that encapsulates the sorry state of the music industry and pockets of fandom still living in a recent past. But at least Noel Gallagher and Damon Albarn have moved on musically, as uninspiring as they might be. Liam, stuck still singing the Wonderwalls and Supernovas his brother wrote 25 years ago, has a solo career that he seems to think is somehow truer to the spirit of rock’n’roll; knocking and pestering, squabbling constantly with Noel who he denounces for apparently turning his back on that myopic vision of rock music. Truth is Liam’s music and cockiness is dull as dishwater. Apart from the already mentioned cheap but hilarious turd delivered Liam track, the titular tune is the only other sneering polemic relating to this theme; ‘Idiot Blur Fanboy’, which originally had an even less PC title, is a chugging thumbed lo fi Jilted John distortion, a brilliant raving Britpop antichrist tango.


The rest of Brian’s ruminations and idiosyncratic observed, musical inspirations littered, diy poetry concerns love-lost resignation, electric-soup connoisseurs of lethal strong lager, wistful remorse, regret and even a tinge of that nostalgia. ‘Cabbage Patch Doll Kiss’ is in the melancholic romantic vogue; a cantering malady with some of the album’s best lines (and there are many): “My hat was a garden, now it’s a rubbish tip. You were the captain of my favourite bath ship.” –Syd Barret eat your heart out. That bastard ‘Rick Astley’ was playing on the radio during another breakup (“I longed for the dark, so I could cry under the killing moon.”) yet is credited with saving Brian’s soul. ‘In My Bed’ pulls the malingering humour into sharp focus however, as one of the album’s saddest profound heartaches, Brian touching upon his own mental health and its effects on a partner. Just as seemingly sad, ‘Guitars And Dust’ finds the middle-aged St. Helens maverick as the lamentable surveyor of his bedroom music empire, yearning that “I’m not the man I thought I’d be.” With a sort of bastardised slow ‘Band On The Run’ feel, Brian touches upon his family band’s underground status, devoid after decades of success. Brian pulls himself together for the final scour, ‘Oh Morrissey’. To a discordant buzz and lone electric guitar Brian has a go at an icon over a perceived betrayal; Morrissey lurching in recent years to the ‘right’. Always a contrary fucker at the best of times, but no calls for boycotts or much in the way of criticism over his vulgarities and cuntiness when he was supporting left wing causes, Morrissey has shown support for Tommy Robinson, sported a Britain First badge on US TV, but also (how dare he) been sympathetic to those who voted for Brexit. He is, as Brian puts it, a “twat”. But lets see it for what it is, a fading star stirring the pot and looking for attention. Still a boycott seems petty and full of false indignity: Be weary of false idols.


The wisdom of a St. Helens Daniel Johnston or Dan Treacy on the dole, the stripped down Idiot Blur Fanboy LP is a triumph of lo fi integrity in an age in which all the counterculture and underground ‘mutherfuckers’ have disappeared into mediocrity or under the fleeting caviler relationship of streaming: a flakey epoch and market place unsympathetic to musicians and artists. Someone care though, and for that they deserve your support and pocket money. Let’s see what we can do to keep such mavericks afloat.

Related from the Archives:

The Bordellos ‘Debt Sounds: Track by Track’

The Bordellos ‘Will.I.Am, You’re Really Nothing’

Brian Bordello’s Reviews Roundup

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