Going to overdo it now...
All hail The Pepsi Challenge, he’s the saviour of our soul
He’s avant-garde it’s true, his band is pure and clean and whole
The godfather of music cited, now James Brown is Annie
But TPC has missed the point, he’s acting like a Danny (eh?)
You’d think his threaded contribution would stir up some hate
In fact we think he’s trying to create a mass debate
There is a point; compared to places like away down South
The Caithness scene would leave a punter fairly down in mouth
But Lo! What row in yonder pub’s disturbing Caithness peace?
The How-No? Bar is full of music, hormones, sweat & grease
As bands churn out old standards coupled with some sounds nouvelle
And punters nod their heids and throw their bodies round as well
Then in the Newmarket each Sunday there’s a load of racket
E’en when it’s Fats that’s churning out and raking in a packet
It doesn’t really matter whether band is cool or trendy
Or whether strat is played in bar-chords, whammy bar is bendy
And then there’s tribute bands that turn up playing in Skinandi
The punters dance around, the burds are blobby. sweaty, bandy
The blokes are always steamin’ but at end of rock and roll
They all trail off to bed and get some sweet ol’ Nat King Cole
There’s clubs in Thurso and in Wick where music comes in pairs
There’s Country and there’s Western in the Seaforth & Blackstairs
A manny with accordion, a bloke with backing unit
It doesn’t matter, ‘long’s you’ve got guitar and you can tune it
The classics get a bit of noise, cos every now and then
A string quartet appears to play some proper music when
The cognoscenti get together, black tie, shirt and tails
The only difference is the buffet, caviar and quails
And then we get to piping where our bands are pretty strong
Just get enough together and you’ll never know what’s wrong
The pipers march too slow, they will not heed a word that’s said
Their ears have been destroyed; they all require a hearing aid
Just pause ye for a second, what’s the point in all this ranting?
Debates ‘bout music industry, all puffing and all panting
We all get sweaty ‘bout a subject close to heart of all
My God! It’s almost just as bad as arguing ‘bout football!
Now whether R’n’B’s your thing or old-school rock and roll
Remember, music’s just the thing that soothes the broken soul
And lubricates the way from gig or even disco dance
Into the realms of sneck and cuddle, even to romance
It’s only entertainment, there are far more things to ponder
Like 3rd world bloody poverty, poor starving sods out yonder
Or war in middle east, or ozone layer been sent packing
If all you worry ‘bout is music, something’s fairly lacking
Like Eastenders and Emmerdale, or Coronation Street
It’s all a load of fantasy, admittedly quite sweet
So if you find you get wound up, that music’s only thrill
I think you need to see a doctor, get a chillout pill
It’s fun! It’s loud! It’s daft and proud! It makes us feel quite jolly
We dinnae take it serious, if we do we’re velly solly
A little side agenda while we earn our daily bread
Those who think it’s all there is, are no’ right in the head
And you that lives down South, we thank you for the stirring up
It’s nice to hear a point of view, from insufferable young pup
At least it helps us focus on just what we have around
Our music scene, whatever, is our very own Caithness sound