Confessions Of A Drumwhore.
I admit it. I have a problem. Nobody can help me — not Betty Ford, not Russell Brand, not even The Ghost of Keith Moon. I love drummers. It started innocently enough, with a mad crush on Reni from The Stone Roses. Perfectly understandable, he is crazy talented and physically beautiful. But now it’s out of control. Every song I play for my kids, I’m all, “Listen to that drummer, gaaahhh!” My 9 year old son is all, “I am SO embarrassed for you right now.” Last night I made him watch this video of Teenage Fanclub playing “God Knows It’s True” at Reading 1992 like 800 times.
Can you freaking believe that drummer from 3:18 on? AMAZING!!! Lucky for him, they are Scottish or else I’d probably stalk him. Ahem.
Anyway, making my son watch this doesn’t sound so bad until you hear the part where he was like, “Mom I have homework to do….Mom I’m hungry, are you going to fix dinner…Mom Child Protective Services are at the door.”
And just a side note to the girl covered in mud at the beginning of the video. Listen honey, I know you think you are all Woodstocky keeping it real, but here’s the shit: you are a braless idiot who is covered in mud. Nobody will want to make out with you or even admit they know you because gross, OK? Even the drunkest, horniest guy there will run from you like he was in a Benny Hill sketch.