You pile out of a gig exhilarated and buoyant only to discover yourself spilt via a back entrance into a dark and intimidating alleyway. Suddenly all your mates scarper and you’re by yourself. Steam rises from underground vents. Indistinct shouts emerge from impenetrable Chinese laundries. Yellow taxi’s flit by enticingly the entrance of the alley promising a return to the familiar and safe world. But your passage is blocked by four leather-jacketed blokes who morph out of the smoke and steam like monsters. Their leader is a tattooed barrel tapping a baseball bat into his palm and leering revealing gaps in his teeth, no doubt from previous battles. He cackles like Tom Waits.
“FANCY IT DO YOU MATE? FEEL LIKE MAKING A RUN FOR IT YEAH? RECKON YOU CAN MAKE IT PAST ME BEFORE I BASH YOUR UGLY F**** FACE IN DO YA?”
(I apologise but the mimetic chime of this monologue has caused me to wet myself momentarily. Excuse me…)
There, that’s better.
Anyway. Out of the blue a Ford Transit appears and out piles a band. They say they’ve come to rescue you. They’ll fight the gang while you make a getaway. Only trouble is, they’re the least qualified bunch of musicians to carry out their promise. They are, without a doubt, the worst band for fighting in the history of rock and roll and pop. Who would that band be I wonder? Pussycats all without a single ‘hard’ guy or gal in the line-up. I’d be interested to hear your nominations.
Meanwhile, the tattooed leader of the nasty gang is grinning lustily and tapping that bat-
“COME ON THEN YOU F****RS! WANT IT DO YA? I’LL TAKE YOU ALL ON!! ONE BY F**** ONE!!”
(Oh dear. It’s happened again. Excuse me…)
Belle & Sebastian.
There, I’ve ended your thread.
Belle & Sebastian are Scottish.
Racialist!
Scottish people are no more likely to be fighty than anybody else.
And no, weapons-grade sarcasm does not count.
Who are you calling no more likely to be fighty than anyone else ya English bampot?
We don’t want no trouble, mister!
Wasn’t Stu M an accomplished pugilist in his youth? And I gather he still keeps his in shape.
As for the others, all those paper cuts will have made them immune to pain so they will just keep coming..
I suppose their lack of pugilistic talent might be balanced by their ability to baffle the leader with an interesting sociological theory they picked up at uni and this might confuse the baseball-wielder for long enough for you to make a dash for that cab? I mean, it’s not ‘fighting’ as such but all is fair in love and war according to Clausewitz.
MmmBop era Hanson.
That drummer looks like a martial artist to me.
When the hardest member of your band is the 11 year old, that tells a story.
He’s 73 now.
It’s a shit business!
You have so many relationships in this life
Only one or two will last
You go through all the pain and strife
Then you turn your back and they’re gone so fast
This microthread is a bit like M. Night Shyamalan’s latest film, Old. Only better.
The above quote is a classic example of how many Hanson lyrics read like they’ve been penned by Werner Herzog.
You specified the era? This implies that Hanson have existed at other times.
Not a fan of The Masked Singer US then? They were harmonizing from the inside of Russian dolls, multiplying weekly until the jury were extremely confused. If they used the same tactics in this scenario, I think they could take that alley gang – that baseball bat wouldn’t put a dent in their wooden doll armour.
I like the US version of The Masked Singer. The costumes are extraordinary and the “star” is often someone I’ve never heard of as they are US equivalents of Lorraine Kelly or Fred Dinenage. Or a mega-selling C&W act.
Hm, I find that they (at least in the latest seasons) have more actual proper singing stars than any other nation’s version. I’ve tried watching the NZ version, and I’ve yet to recognize a single person! 😀
I had trouble with the NZ one too and I have lived here for over 20 years!
Just refreshed my memory thanks to the internet – and the only person with any kind of international profile was Stephen Donald, who kicked the winning the goal for the All Blacks in 2011 World Cup Final.
He was called up due to lots of unfortunate injuries happening to other players during the tournament. He had put on a few kgs because he wasn’t expecting a call. This is why his shirt didn’t fit him properly during the game.
I found this episode of the UK MS hilarious…a guy with a very distinctive voice, singing his own song…in a Viking outfit – and the. fuckwit judges *still* didn’t twig?!
Perhaps they got confused when he wasn’t singing about spam.
Could be worse: in the Swedish version one of the judges first said it sounded like her mother (showbiz family), but when one of the other judges guessed someone else, she went along with his (very bad) guess instead…of course it turned out to be her mum.
MmmmBop on the nose.
I can’t imagine the Magnetic Fields being too handy in a fight.
That’s where you’re wrong. I have the bruises to prove it. Felt too. Bunch of bruisers. Especially that Lawrence. Nasty left hook.
Magneto begs to differ.
Renaissance don’t look very ‘hard’.
Appearances can be deceptive. Just think back to Dollar and that huge fracas they caused in Clacton on Sea. Fifty casualties. All because someone was foolish enough to say something sarky in a bar within their hearing about their version of ‘I Want to Hold your Hand.’
I take your point re the lads, but I reckon Annie could hold her own in a ruck…
That voice would charm them into a pacific state, like they use classical muzak on certain underground stations, proven to reduce crime.
She’s a northern lass (Bolton?) in a band of men, in an industry not noted for its delicacy – I reckon she’s likely well ‘ard…
The Cowboy Junkies. Margot would stab them in the eye with a knitting needle.
And ever so quietly.
The Lotus Eaters, or any 80s act in plimsole footwear.
Tears For Fears. There, I’ve said it.
Everybody wants to run awayyyyy!
Jesus & Mary Chain. All mouth and no trousers.
Leather ones at that. The favourite disguise of the weed. (I’m looking at you, Jim so-called Morrison)
I nominate Bobby Gillespie as my champion in all future rucks. I’ve never started anything with anyone in my life, but I think having Boab as my stand-in would make me want to. A lot.
Radiohead. They’d all push Ed to the front, whereupon he’d toss his fringe back and pat the air placatingly saying, in the calm tones of a born mediator, “Guys, guys, come on now, we don’t want any tr-“
Once they’ve stepped over his twitching body, the gang advances on Jonny, Phil and Colin, two of whom are near tears. They look around. Thom has fled.
Nah…Thom was observed doubled up on the ground, emitting terrible wailing and moaning sounds. Everyone looked perplexed and wondered why he had chosen this exact time to start singing again.
I’m going for Simon and Garfunkel. I can’t imagine a more fey and feckless pair you wouldn’t want backing you up in a brawl.
Paul would try to hide in Artie’s hair.
Not any more he wouldn’t, cos old Artie is as bald as a coot. I should remind you though, that they would rather be a hammer than a nail, so they might be a bit handy.
Not buying it.
“I Am A Rock”? You’re not even a Kendo Nagasaki, pal.
This may be the only time when Paul would allow Art to stand in front of him.
That’s a lie, lie, lie lie… they’re on good terms with a boxer.
A boxer who carries a reminder of every glove that laid him down. Presumably the laces or something
Everything But The Girl. Having a à la mode haircut gets you nowhere in a back alley
Well it does, but not in a fight….
Hot Chip
The Stranglers.
Sorry, misread the post. Meant Japan.
Jean Jacques Burnel leaping out of Jet Black’s ice cream van and giving some wrong ‘uns a pasting is a nice image. And Mivvis all round after.
The Rolling Stones have always struck me as a group of people who have convinced themselves they’d be amazing in a fight, but would actually be blown over by a stiff gust of wind. Richards, in particular – all that big man chat in literally every interview he’s ever given has to be compensating for something.
Plus, they’re 90 years old.
Ronnie Wood’s defence mechanism would be to stand sideways, thereby becoming invisible.
With *that* nose?
Seriously, SFA.
Their drummer’s pretty chunky. He used to live across the road from me. I once saw him carry four recycling bags in one hand. Also, Gruff is taller than you think. Good reach.
They own a tank.
And a mobile phone.
Aphex Twin had a tank as well. Can we construct a Panzer division of 90s indie acts?
I know it’s unfair to call Aphex Twin indie but it’s the best I had at hand.
The drummer from JD/NO has a small private fleet of armoured vehicles in case Macc is ever invaded.
They sold the tank a while back sadly.
Apologies. Read it all wrong. SFA should be in the other thread. Bit like Birmingham fans.
Best band in a fight would be The Wombles. They’re pretty tidy.
Worst band: The Runaways.
Niiiice.
None of the above. It has to be The Pastels.
Actually, having suffered their set at a festival once and thinking they were the most tuneless and talentless bunch of t***rs ever to grace a stage I would probably join in with the baseball bat man and thump them myself.
The James Last Orchestra.
Or maybe there’d be strength in numbers…
I wouldn’t want to mess with Hansi et al.
Anybody that can rock ‘Silver Machine’ shouldn’t be underestimated.
En masse, my money would be on them against say, The Stranglers, any day of the week!
They’re in a constant state of agitation to start with, from having to wear nothing but polyester, so the slightest hint of anything and they’ll explode like a brown bearded V-2.
Also, half of them are carrying heavy brass instruments. Have you ever been twatted with a sousaphone? No. I can tell – because YOU’RE ALIVE.
Conversely I saw the Sensational Alex Harvey Band a few years ago, and lovely chaps I am sure they are, thinking at the time I wouldn’t want to meet them down a dark alley.
Three Scottish bruisers and a guy in a clown costume. I see what you mean, it’s a Stephen King novel come to life.
The Who
Roger would get stuck in.
Keith would just be dicking about.
John would stand back, watch it all kick off, and finally land the killer blow.
But Pete would stand at the side, watch it all unfold, and then compse a triple album Rock Opera about what he’s just observed
Haircut 100.
I was going to add Mud to the list but the singer might be handy or at least might have been in his day.
The Haircuts would throw their jumpers at the assailants, suffocating them in a tasteful tsunami of wool blends.
Good point, plus they’d be able to escape on their tractor while the assailants argued over whether or not they were genuine arran knits. I hadn’t thought it through.
The Rubettes could have had razor blades sewn in the peaks of their caps a la original peaky blinders.
I reckon Mud could look after themselves. The Sweet too. And as for Slade, don’t even think about it.
T.Rex on the other hand…
Maybe if Mr Henry Rollins of Black Flag (circa 1982) were to join T. Rex as a special guest member, they’d be more of a formidable proposition…
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Rollins#/media/File:Henry_rollins_(45143022).jpg
Is Henry Rollins involved in music as well as being a hardcase?
Who knew!
He was once beaten up by his own crowd at a club I used to go to in Preston, though I wasn’t there that night.
Evidence, if evidence were required (0:19)
Tom Waits was once asked by Q which three musicians he’d want on his side in a fight. He said “you’d have to have Keith Richards” , thought Nick Cave “looked like he could take care of business” and took Henry Rollins as number three: “let’s see what he can do with all those muscles”.
Rollins’ key advantage in a ruck isn’t his muscles. It’s that he’s been in lots and lots of fights previously (half of them with his own audience), and isn’t particularly averse to being hit, or at least he wasn’t at one stage in life.
Plus, he grew up with Mr Pepperman punching him in the solar plexus….
https://www.oldtimestrongman.com/articles/the-iron-by-henry-rollins/
I have a huge amount of time for Henry Rollins, just not for his music. In that respect he’s like a butch James Blunt.
Brian Connolly not so much, unfortunately. Throat damage resulting from a random beating by a gang set him on the road to his drinking problems and subsequent decline.
Wasn’t Nick Hayward actually a secret bodybuilder or something? Or have I just imagined that? Paging @Dave Amitri
I was thinking that. In a 90s interview on TV he was surprisingly stocky – like Captain Beefheart.
In the early 00s an acquaintance was a competitive bodybuilder and sent an email asking everyone he knew to vote for him on some bodybuilding website. When you clicked the link, there were pics of about a dozen anonymous rippling male torsos. In his email he described which one he was and all you have to do is vote for his picture.
I was just doing this at work when a colleague passed by and loudly said “what ARE you looking at?” drawing attention to the fact that I was seemingly studying multiple photos of near-naked men. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
His favourite shirt is on the line. Not on his back.
He did bulk up but not sure if he ever went full Arnie. The band were Kent / Croydon boys so I’d say fairly tasty in a rumble
Donovan of course. Now he would live to tell the tale after boring them all death with it
Blur. To a man, lovers not fighters.
no-hits clash… all that military gear has to be a front.
I think the C86 crowd would get my vote. Any of them, really. They wouldn’t want to stain their white jeans would they?
This lot would certainly confuse the enemy
Sir! Leffe is cheating! He’s chosen a synth pop band!
The Soft Boys.
The Blind Boys Of Alabama
I come up out of the tube station and immediately sense it. There’s violence in the air and I’m here to take a big, deep breath. I look down the line at the lads and I can see they’re feeling exactly the same thing: Jagger, Wyman… even Watts. Each of them is coiled like a spring, neck on swivel looking for the first sign of bother.
I feel that old electricity running through me; that feeling when it’s all about to kick off and life has this weird sense of clarity. At that moment, there’s a shout from across the road, and I hear the sound of marching, charging feet. I turn my head and see it: Richards is down on the deck with three Blind Boys Of Alabama giving him a good kicking. Where the fuck did they come from?
Before I can even make sense of what I’m looking at, instinct kicks in and I’m halfway across the street, harmonica in hand, ready to give them blind twats the hiding they’ve been looking for ever since the incident outside Wembley Stadium earlier in the Summer.
I hit the first one: bosh! He goes down, hard, his screams of pain harmonising beautifully with those of his bandmates as the other lads arrive and start laying into them, scattering white sticks and guide dogs across the road.
They’ve always been a muggy crew, the Blind Boys. They talk a good one, but when you actually get hold of them in the wild they fold like cheap cardboard. I’m busy sticking the boot into one of them when I hear a shout from over my shoulder. I spin round, and a smile spreads across my face.
Stood at the end of the road, organic smoothies in hand, are the four members of Coldplay. Suddenly, what was looking like a very boring afternoon’s work has the makings of a proper tear up. I look at Jagger. He looks at me. I fucking love what I do.
…backs away carefully from a post that appears to display a distressing degree of familiarity with that which it satirises..
Superb.
Double superb. Bravo Bingo!
Foreigner. Waiting for girls and that, and wanting to know what love is.
What a state to be in.
Dollar. Give me back my heart you big bullies!
Herman’s Hermits?
I wish to point out that fighting is not big or clever. I got into music precisely to avoid this sort of thing. I was appalled when glass throwing and rucks occurred at punk and ska gigs, plus dickheads throwing cans and bottles at rock festivals. Lemmy would set his fans on tossers doing that sort of thing.
Give us a kiss.
Lemmy walked off stage at the World famous Heavy Metal venue the Reading Hexagon after being hit by a plastic pot.
(I refuse to call it a “glass” because it so obviously isn’t)
Philthy Phil was later arrested for arguing with some knobhead punters who refused to leave the venue and demanding the band return to the stage
This thread reminded me of this Tweet from Pete Paphides. I’m not convinced by Showaddywaddy. I think he might have got it right with Racey…
UK rock’n’roll revivalists of the mid-late 70s/early 80s in order of estimated handiness in a fight 1. Darts 2. Matchbox 3. Shakin’ Stevens 4. Showaddywaddy 5. Mud 6. Dave Edmunds 7. The Polecats 8. Shakin’ Pyramids 9. Rocky Sharpe & The Replays 10= Alvin Stardust 10= Racey
Back in the day, Darts’ Den Hegarty looked like the one whose pint you wouldn’t want to spill. Goofy, silly but with no ‘off switch’ once the pin was pulled.
I think PP is right about Darts. They’d be very organised. And they’d laugh while they were doing it.
The Dooleys. No one has managed the Dooley’s yet. Or Shakatak.
How about the Korgis?
Since this they’ve all bulked up, done some time in the ring and are now touring as the Staffies, playing such songs as, “You Gotta Learn Now, You Nonce”
Deathmatch: Korgis v. Buggles ends after three days of girly slaps with Geoff Downes raising two pairs of bloodied, oversized spectacles in weary triumph.
Felt. Lawrence looks like a feather would knock him over.
In the 90s he was back in Denim… fooling nobody. Them’s your sister’s Lee Coopers and she wants them back.
Gong.
Penguin Café Orchestra.
I think Incredible String Band would piss their pants and run away.
Janis Joplin or Maggie Bell on the other hand would have taken them on single handedly.
Maggie Bell? There’s been a murrderr!
Lynyrd Skynyrd and their road crew always fancied themselves in a ruck, at least when the odds were in their favour. The pound shop Allman Brothers got their come-uppance in a London hotel bar when the bunch of lads they picked on turned out to be members of a boxing club on an evening out.