This time I know it's the real thing...

...as the esteemed D.Minogue might have put it. And how right our Dannii was.

Well, we've just had a smashing weekend here at Kapow! HQ, with the incredible Joe Snow (a walking, talking 1950s superhero who did the visuals for THIS fantastic range which is in the shops now) and his dear wife Enid Egg (style icon, Balderdash Champion and raconteur par excellence) to stay. Brilliant, talented and hilarious people, we had an outstanding time with them all. Special mention also for a typically inspired cameo by the one, the only, The Millen, ok?

I feel more driven than ever to defeat the various hurdles I've allowed to spring up over the years which have held me back from "doing my thing" creatively and allowing my ability to paint, draw and generally make stuff, be the way in which I make my living. No more wasting my time "working for The Man", as I am about to set off and do for the umpteenth time in my life.

To think each week I all but throw away 40 hours minimum of my time to do stuff which bears no relation to who I am and fails to bring out one iota of my true ability, imagination or enthusiasm is sickening. It makes me feel like a caged animal and I've only got myself to blame.

I've had moments like this before, but this time I think I can actually do it. Which says a lot for how darn marvellous a human being my darling Konnie Kapow! is. She is my inspiration, my reason to believe and I simply do not have Scooby what I'd do without her.

So, like Michael Jackson circa 1988, I'm gonna make a change... for once in my life, s'gonna feel real good... etc. (there will be no plastic surgery or purchasing of misc. apes as friends though).

5 songs to play en route to work at 7am on a Monday morning:

Clampdown - The Clash
Light of Day - Bruce Springsteen (seriously, get on this... it's BOSS TIME!!)
Hey Sa Loh Neh - Micky Lee Lane
Nadine - Chuck Berry
I Can Only Give You Everything - Them

Watch this space folks. Ta ra for now.

I had too much (too little) to dream last night...

...as the Electric Prunes once sang (but without the 'too little' bit).

Yesterday I delivered the hoover back to my sister-in-law's via bus. Her boyfriend and I then had a nice chat over a cuppa and a jammy donut. Not had one of those in ages. A jammy donut, not a chat.

The subject of dreams came up and it occurred to me that it'd be a good idea to use this blog to record mine when I remember them, as they are often a bit odd, very odd, or just plain weird.

Alas, I don't remember dreaming ANYTHING last night, which kind of wrecks my plans initially. I hope to be able to report back with all manner of wild tales in future though. Although maybe I'm putting too much pressure on myself here and crushing the dreamy part of my brain into oblivion? Who knows.

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In other news, it's back to work today for l'il ol' me, possibly with a couple of hours overtime afterwards and tomorrow and the next day. I've got a big boring job that I want to get finished by Friday, but might not quite have time... we'll see. It'd help if people at my work actually told me what they really wanted in the first place. My job is crap and I hope I can leave soon, but this may be wishful thinking. We Kapows are b-r-o-k-e.

In the meantime, here's a list of five brilliant but oft-underappreciated soul/rhythm 'n' blues tunes (WITH LINKS! Ain't I good to y'all):

(1) (Don't Mess Up A) Good Thing - Fontella Bass & Bobby McClure

(2) It's Alright - Curtis Mayfield & The Impressions

(3) Ride Your Pony - Lee Dorsey

(4) Um Bow Bow - The Bobbettes

(5) The Boy From New York City - The Ad Libs

He Got What He Wanted But He Lost What He Had...

The following is taken from the Prologue to acclaimed rock critic Greil Marcus' outstanding book Mystery Train, a truly great work which takes the reader on a greyhound bus direct to the heart of American music since the great Bluesmen first picked up a guitar or a harmonica and started telling stories:

Our story begins just after midnight, not so long ago. The Dick Cavett Show is in full swing.

Seated on Cavett's left is John Simon, the New York Critic. On Cavett's right, in order of distance from him, are Little Richard, Rock 'n' Roll Singer and Weirdo; Rita Moreno, Actress; and Erich Segal, Yale Professor of Classics and Author of Love Story. Miss Moreno and Mr. Segal adored Love Story. Mr. Simon did not. Little Richard has not read it.

Cavett is finishing a commercial. Mr. Simon is mentally rehearsing his opening thrust against Mr. Segal, who is very nervous. Miss Moreno seems to be falling asleep. Little Richard is looking for an opening.

Mr. Simon has attacked Mr. Segal. Mr. Segal attempts a reply but he is too nervous to be coherent. Mr. Simon attacks a second time. Little Richard is about to jump out of his seat and jam his face in front of the camera but Mr. Simon beats him out. He attacks Mr. Segal again.

"NEGATIVE! NEGATIVE NEGATIVE NEGATIVE!" screams Mr. Segal. He and Simon are debating a fine point in the history of Greek tragedy, to which Mr. Simon has compared Love Story unfavorably.

"'Neg-a-tive'," muses Mr. Simon. "Does this mean 'no'?"

Mr. Segal attempts, unsuccessfully, yo ignore Mr. Simon's contempt for his odd patois, and claims that the critics were wrong about Aeschylus. He implies that Simon would have walked out on the Oresteia. Backed by the audience, which sounds like a Philadelphia baseball crowd that has somehow mistaken Mr. Simon for Richie Allen, Segal presses his advantage. Little Richard sits back in his chair, momentarily intimidated.

"MILLIONS OF PEOPLE WERE DEEPLY MOVED by my book," cries Segal, forgetting to sit up straight and slumping in his chair until his body is nearly parallel with the floor. "AND IF ALL THOSE PEOPLE LIKED IT -" (Segal's voice has now achieved a curious tremelo) "I MUST BE DOING SOMETHING RIGHT!"

The effort has exhausted Segal, and as he takes a deep breath Little Richard begins to rise from his seat. Again, Simon is too fast for him. Simon attempts to make Segal understand that he is amazed that anyone, especially Segal, takes this trash to be anything more than, well, trash.

"I have read it and reread it many times," counters Segal with great honesty. " I am always moved."

"Mr. Segal," says Simon, having confused the bull with his cape and now moving in for the kill, "you had the choice of acting the knave or the fool. You have chosen the latter."

Segal is stunned. Cavett is stunned. He calls for a commercial. Little Richard considers the situation.

The battle resumes. Segal has now slumped even lower in his chair, if that is possible, and seems to be arguing with the ceiling. "You're only a crutuc," he says as if to Simon. "What have you ever written? What do you know about art? Never in the history of art..."

"WHY, NEVER IN THE HISTORY!"

The time has come. Little Richard makes his move. Leaping from his seat, he takes the floor, arms waving, hair coming undone, eyes wild, mouth working. He advances on Segal, Cavett and Simon, who cringe as one man. The camera cuts to a close-up of Segal, who looks miserable, then to Simon, who is attempting to compose the sort of bemused expression he would have if, say, someone were to defecate on the floor. Little Richard is audible off-camera, and then his face quickly fills the screen.

"WHY, YES, IN THE WHOLE HISTORY OFAAAART! THAT'S RIGHT! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! WHAT DO YOU KNOW, MR. CRITIC? WHY, WHEN THE CREEDENCE CLEARWATER PUT OUT WITH THEIR 'TRAVELIN' BAND' EVERYBODY SAY WHEEE-OOO BUT I KNOW IT ONLY CAUSE THEY DOING 'LONG TALL SALLY' JUST LIKE THE BEATLES ANDTHESTONESANDTOMJONESANDELVIS - I AM ALL OF IT, LITTLE RICHARD HIMSELF, VERY TRULY THE GREATEST, THE HANDSOMEST, AND NOW TO YOU (to Segal, who now appears to be on the floow) AND TO YOU (to Simon, who looks to Cavett as if to say, really old man, this has been fun, but this, ah, fellow is becoming a bit much, perhaps a commercial is in order). I HAVE WRITTEN A BOOK, MYSELF, I AM A WRITER, I HAVE WRITTEN A BOOK AND IT'S CALLED -

"'HE GOT WHAT HE WANTED BUT HE LOST WHAT HE HAD'! THAT'S IT! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! HE GOT WHAT HE WANTED BUT HE LOST WHAT HE HAD! THE STORY OF MY LIFE. CAN YOU DIG IT? THAT'S MY BOY LITTLE RICHARD, SURE IS. OO MAH SOUL!"

Little Richard flies back to his chair and slams down into it. "WHEEEEE-OO! OOO MAH SOUL! OO mah soul..."

Little Richard site with the arbiters of taste, oblivious to their bitter stares, savoring his moment. He is Little Richard. Who are they? Who will remember Erich Segal, John Simon, Dick Cavett? Who will care? Ah, but Little Richard, Little Richard himself! There is a man who matters. He knows how to rock.

A phrase that Little Richard snatched off Erich Segal stays in my mind: "Never in the history - in the whole history of art..." And that was it. Little Richard was the only artist on the set that night, the only one who disrupted an era, the only one with a claim to immortality. The one who broke rules, created a form; the one who gave shape to a vitality that wailed silently in each of us until he found a voice for it.

He is the rock, the jive bomber, the savant. "Tutti Frutti" was his first hit, breaking off the radio in 1955 to shuffle the bland expectations of white youth; fifteen years later the Weirdo on the Cavett Show reached back for whatever he had left and busted up an argument about the meaning of art with a spirit that recalled the absurd promise of his glory days. "I HAVE WRITTEN A BOOK, MYSELF, AND IT'S CALLED..."

Sometimes good guys don't wear white...

I've taken today and tomorrow off work for no particular reason and boy is it sweet to be kicking about doing stuff I feel like doing, or not doing anything at all, or doing something I'd forgotten I felt like doing ages ago. Or a something.

It looks almost like spring outside which is an absolute beauty because I'm sick of winter and I'm busy downloading all manner of misc. songs off the Limewire. I started off by trying to find that song off the Skoda advert that sounds like it's an old crooner like Bobby Darin (it isn't Bobby Darin) or someone. Anyway, it turns out it's called 'Bluebird' and is performed by a Welsh guy called Jeff Hooper who won a TV talent show a while ago. It's not on Limewire at the moment, but you can hear it here via the magic of Youtube, or, if you're a Brummie, Yowtyowb.

I like it, but then I always was a total sucker for big silly loud big band numbers wasn't I?

Here's a list of 5 of the best:

(1) Sunday In New York - Bobby Darin (they don't make music videos like they used to. Watch it til the end or you'll miss a polar bear getting on a bus!)
(2) I've Got You Under My Skin - Frank Sinatra (the crazily good Nelson Riddle arrangement)
(3) The Oldest Established - Frank, Dean Martin & Bing Crosby (from Guys & Dolls, Broadway moosical fans) - I can't find a decent YouTube version, so here's the fat guy singing his song about Rockin' The Boat.
(4) On The Street Where You Live - Vic Damone (old Vic doesn't look any different does he?!)
(5) Jump, Jive 'an Wail - Louis Prima (this is one of the greatest get up and boogie songs of all time ever... "Mama's in the back yard learnin' how to jive an' wail... WOOOOAAH!!")

I also totally LOVE the song currently on the ads for Sky HD, yes, Gene Wilder as THE Willy Wonka (move over Johnny Depp) singing 'Pure Imagination'. Great movie, great songs.

As a perfect contrast to the crooners and schmoozers, I'm also downloading a hefty whack of rip roaring garage rock nuggets, from the likes of The Monks, The Sonics and The Standells (who are behind the very excellent song from which I stole the title to this very blog). They're dead good. And they're spot on, sometimes good guys DON'T wear white. Ain't that the truth!

"You think those guys in white collars are better than I am baby, then FLAKE OFF!"


I've got a few good ideas (non-crooner/garage rocker related) for Kapow cards and stuff so I'm going to work on them now. Here's hoping I remember to do more blogs and Twitterings soon too, because then I'll be able to prove to all of those who've doubted me once and for all that I am indeed dead modern and that!!

I have also done a great deal of laundry today.

Best regards,

Mr K.

Mr Kapow's New Range Debuts!

Afternoon Campers!

Just a few lines to let you know that my own first entry to the Konnie Kapow Kards Katalogue has at last been launched. HE SHOOTS, HE SCORES!!!!

CHRISTMAS IS COMING UP FAST, SO TAKE A LOOK IF YOU'VE GOT FOOTY FANS TO CATER FOR!

The range of cards I've come up with are a tip of the hat to perhaps my only vice, Association Football. I do hope you like them and please do whack an order or three in at your leisure. I can produce a select XI for any team you fancy, from Barnet to Barcelona, with legendary players listed, or your very own, your darling other half's, your grandad's, whoever you fancy's names included in the line-up.

You could make a 'DAVE'S ALL-TIME XI F.C. CHRISTMAS TREE', for your friend Dave, starring all his favourite players. Or a 'ROCK & ROLL XI' featuring a mythical team of legendary rock stars, probably managed by Colonel Tom Parker, with Elvis at centre-forward and Chubby Checker in goal.

Text can of course come in the colour scheme of your choosing too, as long as it's not the same colour as the green of the pitch - unless you've created an 'INVISIBLE MAN XI'... It could happen?!!

Once your order has been placed and details confirmed, I, Mr Kapow, will lovingly prepare your card and then blast it toward your doormat faster than a vicious, swerving "Psycho" Stuart Pearce free-kick circa 1987. GOAL!!!!

The examples on show are of suggested All-Star line-ups for the Everton and Liverpool Football Clubs. I'll probably publish a few for other teams in the coming weeks too, so watch this space eh?

*** Before I go I just wanted to state that 'Sharpy', my footy card model has been fined a week's wages and warned as to his future conduct following his nancy-schmancy dive during the photoshoot this morning (see photo above). It won't happen again! ***

With love and wishes that your team shines valiantly wherever they are playing this week!

Mr K x

Click on these chaps below for a bigger, better, more Beardsley-tastic view. Ta ta!

Hello folks.

Well, here it is. The blogtastic debut of Mr Kapow! Hurrah!

Sometimes on a Friday I like to sit and drink tea, thinking about all the things I need to get done over the weekend. Perhaps wondering if it's a good idea to go and hunt for ingredients to bake a sponge cake or some delicious oatmeal flapjacks. I think for now I'll settle for a Florida Pink grapefruit to keep me going through 'til lunchtime. I might give the Man from DelMonte a tinkle to see what he thinks.

As you will no doubt have heard from my dear wife, the esteemed Konnie Kapow, we are embarking upon something of a creative venture at present, making things and trying to sell them. My contributions will no doubt be of the more 'chap-esque' variety and I do hope all you ladies out there will purchase said works as gifts for the lucky fellows in your life. Go on, there's a good chapette.

Anyway, I'm off now to scan things in, mess about with this spanky new computer and generally keep myself busy until such time as I'm required to don my finest threads and sachet down to the blinking restaurant we're supposed to be going to tonight.

With warmest regards and wishing you all a spiffing weekend of poached eggs, cloudy lemonade and sunday supplements.

Mr K