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Funereal Musing

A friend’s Facebook post of the “what song would you want played at your funeral?” variety got me thinking. Robert Johnson’s They’re Red Hot, perhaps?  Tom Waits’ What’s He Building?  Ultimately for me, it would most likely be War Pigs by Black Sabbath.

The mourners, should there be any, are to sing along with the guitar solo in a “woah-woah” styley as shovelfuls of dirt are dumped to the rhythm onto my budget chipboard casket.  As the song ends, a loop should start of mid-’80s coked-up Ozzy exhorting a pigs’ blood soaked arena crowd to “Go fucking crazy!” before affirming, “we fucking love you!”  The loop should continue playing until everyone in attendance gradually gets the message and trudges miserably away through the inevitable rain and mud.

Squelch, squelch.

“Go fucking crazy!”

Squelch, squelch.

“We fucking love you!”



Introducing … The Crow Bone Chorus.

The Crow Bone Chorus

With our first rehearsal under our belts (and a good one at that) , I’m happy to say that my erstwhile band mates in Dog Moon Howl, Bryan Campbell and Ally Tennick, are joining me in a new project: Craig Hughes & The Crow Bone Chorus.  We’ll soon be bringing new music to a venue near you, by which I mean a venue near us, as well as selections from my studio releases and more besides. The plan is now to record and release my next album, which I’ve mentioned here before, under the Craig Hughes & The Crow Bone Chorus banner.  The album is unlikely to be underway before early 2018 but we should be playing our first gigs before the end of this year.

Croe Bone Chorus logo

The Craig Hughes Two

The Craig Hughes Two is about to be resurrected on the live scene after a year’s layoff for heavy rocking purposes.  We’ll be gigging again from Sept/Oct with our new mini-album to flog.

I’ll be posting regular “work in progress” updates here from now on, so do watch this space.


Dog Moon Howl E.P. preview

Work continues on the upcoming releases.  Here’s a preview of the new Dog Moon Howl E.P. These Days in the shape of a lo-fi video (knocked together out of some under-exposed rehearsal footage) for the title track. The tune itself is perhaps a bit of departure for the band but I believe we’re all seriously pleased with it.  I know I am.


Checking in.

Look at that, my goodness. 2017 already.

One way or another, this is going to be a very busy year, for me at least.  There are new EPs from both Dog Moon Howl and The Craig Hughes Two due for release over the next few months (details to be finalised for the Dog Moon Howl one at our first rehearsal of the year next weekend).  A series of self promoted gigs, possibly marking the return of the old That Devil Music night.  A limited edition run of “hand stamped” CDs and a similar tape run of my back catalogue.  Regular updates over at the Ritual Objects blog (and this one).  Some other stuff.

I hope you’ll find something in there that appeals.  Keep checking back.

Here’s the thing.

It’s been a week of trying to fix and maintain guitars and P.A. kit.  Not my favourite way to spend my time but a necessity in my game.  The mood of frustration instilled by one too many loose earth connections was not exactly helped by the outcome of the U.S. election.

While grimly working my way through report after report of a wave of hate crimes Stateside following Trump’s victory, I’ve seen the odd comment here and there from Trump voters saying it’s not fair that they’re being labelled as bigots. They voted based on what they believed was right, blah blah blah. Same thing happened after Brexit. At least a couple of long posts circulated on Facebook from pro-Brexit voters protesting that their vote had been founded on solid reasoning. It was, they believed, desperately unfair to judge them racist and right-wing just because so many other Brexit voters were exactly that.

Here’s the thing though. If you so carefully considered your vote, you must have known that you were at least nominally aligning yourself with some very dodgy elements. It should hardly be a surprise, then,  that you might find yourself having to clarify your reasoning.  After all,  no matter how moderate the slogan on your placard, if you are seen waving it amongst all the cunts at a cunt parade, it’s hardly a stretch for the casual observer to take you for a cunt.

Ninety-Nine Problems and a Pitch ain’t One

My film-making ambitions have largely withered and died but I found the following scrawled on the back of an old song lyric by my bed the other morning.  It was under a dusty pile of books dating back at least a few months and I have no clear recollection of having written it.  Presumably I was half asleep at the time.

What follows is verbatim:

Scotsploitation – there’s got to be a market for this sort of thing?

The Cumnockance – haunted house movie set in East Ayrshire.

Possil Kickboxer II: The Drum – sequel to Possil Kickboxer featuring a Kumite-style finale set in Drumchapel.  No need to actually make Possil Kickboxer.  That would be a load of pish.

The Creature from the Blue Lagoon – post apocalyptic Glasgow tale featuring a mutated special fish supper.


There is no pitch note for Dinnae.  Just an off-the-page squiggle indicating that sleep was suddenly upon me.

So there you have it.  Expect to be hearing about a Kickstarter campaign for The Cumnockance very soon.

My Postie’s a Prick

Been buying in a few VHS tapes and the likes for reviewing purposes on the soon-to-be revived Ritual Objects blog.  I’m waiting for a couple of parcels.

So, it’s just past midday, postie’s due and I’m in the kitchen getting a brew on when I hear a loud “bang” from the close, like a door slamming.  I go to the door and look through the keek-hole in time to witness the postie taking one of my parcels – he’s right outside my door, mind – raising it to head-height and slamming it down on the concrete, while muttering “fuck this!” or some-such.  He uses enough force that it bounces back up to about his shoulder.

I tear open the door and ask, I think justifiably, “What the fuck are you playing at?”

He looks a bit like a rabbit caught in the headlights and says, “Oh, sorry, I dropped that,” while hastily handing me a small stack of three parcels and some mail.

“Did you fuck – I just watched you through the door-” indicating the keek-hole “-and you deliberately bounced it off the fucking ground.”

“Sorry, I dropped it, I apologise.”

“Sorry, I just watched you throw it.  It better no be fucking damaged.”

While he starts trying to make a joke of how tough a climb the stairs are, I slam the door in his face.

It occurs to me I’ve heard him do this before with parcels – the loud “bang” – I’d just never realised what it was I’ve been hearing.  I’ve had damaged stuff before which has almost certainly been down to this wee shite.  Today’s parcels each contained four VHS tapes, well packaged but not enough to stop several of the boxes from shattering.  I’ve had identically damaged tapes before – now I know why.  This is really taking the piss.

I suppose I’ll have to put in a complaint.  Slapping him until he cries would probably be frowned upon.