Heart of a Punk Soul of a Rasta

VIP MUSIC FAIRS

I try to stay away from record fairs VIP or otherwise as much as I can because records are for listening to, and not for collecting, aren't they? And as you will know if you've ever read any of the rubbish I spout in this fanzine I'm an intrinsically weak and auto suggestive person, who can easily be duped into buying either something I already own or something I definately don't need. But the allure of being in a room full of musty old vinyl is occasionally too great to resist and that is why I found myself standing outside the Wulfrun Hall Wolverhampton on the 13th of Feb in the bleedin freezing cold with a steady flow of snow gathering on my bald head.

No women or children in the queue either forward or aft just an endless sea of middle aged bloated faces, I felt like Homer Simpson at the Sci Fi convention - "This can't be a Sci Fi Convention it's full of nerds!" Anyhoo I was soon in and letting my fingers do the walking through the vinyl, I should have been happy but there was something wrong, was it that all the record sleeves were clean and tidy and cloistered behind plastic sleeves (unlike my own) or was it that all the vinyl was fluff free, pristine and immaculate (unlike my own)? No it was something else, but what? I took a breather and looked around me, over the way a Rasta guy was trying to set up his pitch whilst some DICK was taking his ease leaning all over his trestle table. He verbally tapped the DICK on the shoulder and quietly informed him "This is all roots reggae here man" The DICK as if electrocuted buggered off so quickly he left a faint translucent likeness of himself in the area he had just recently inhabited. I immediately stepped into the vacancy as a tub of records came into land on the table top. It was then I realised what had been wrong, on completing his set up the Rastaman slapped a piece of plastic onto a turntable. Music at a record fairs whatever next!

And so it goes, moments later I found myself walking away a few sovereigns lighter with a copy of "Living DUB Volume 1" by Burning Spear (Jamaican version) tucked under my arm. Contented with my new purchase I wandered off through the Fair smiling inanely at the world about me. The fact that I've already got "Living DUB Volume 1" on CD has nothing to do with anything and frankly I don't see why my wife needs to know either!

Finally on the leaflets distributed at the VIP fairs it states clearly "no promotion work allowed without advance permission of the organiser". What the beep does that mean, if it means I can't promote VIP Fairs then all I have to say is: RED BULL TO RAG A - rearrange.

HEY
middle-aged SINGLE WOMEN OF THE UK
listen up!
I KNOW WHERE YOU can find gullible unattached MIDDLE-AGED MEN
WITH
masses OF disposable INCOME

If that doesn't increase numbers I don't know what will.
This promotion business it's a piece of piss.