Caveman

We’ve spent this month hiding all manner of computers, pens and stone tablets, but somehow he still managed to cough up a column. Come to think of it, did he actually write this? Even we don’t know anymore…

Illustration: Joel Benjamin

Ug. My name is Caveman Fat Roland. Me is writing Bang On column this month because normal Fat Roland gone rogue. He last seen in Dawson’s music shop climbing into tuba. Fat Roland is not well. Fat Roland is also idiot.

My name is Caveman Fat Roland – which me already said, but me say it again because you look confuse. Me live in cave with woman called Cardboard Cutout Wife Fat Roland and pet pterodactyl called Susan. Me spend my days eating mud and drawing rude shapes on walls. Sometimes me stick spear up nose because me mistake myself for wild animal. Me got amazing home studio set-up in cave. Studio has twig xylophone, and studio has big rock which become drum machine when me hit it with twig xylophone. This is better home studio than Peter Gabriel, and me fight anyone who say any different.

Why me write Fat Roland column while normal Fat Roland away? Cavemen no normally write for Electronic Sound magazine, despite rugged look of Synthesiser Dave. This because me got brilliant claim to fame. Me invent electronic music. Your face look very amaze at this news. Your face do that “wow” shape that animals do when me throw spear at them. Me invent electronic music all by myself. Without me, no Brian Eno, no Radiophonic Workshop, no Ian Van Dahl ‘Castles In Sky’.

Caveman Fat Roland invent electronic music by accident. Turns out when me stick head of Susan the pterodactyl up bum of Susan the pterodactyl, me make infinite reptile loop whose resulting scream sound exactly like Underworld before they got cool. Once, me throw triceratops into piranha pit, and this sound just like late-career Daft Punk. Later today, me will tickle brontosaurus with hand axe, and if this no sound like Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark, me be very disappoint.

Now that me invent whole of electronic music, me got serious amount of royalties due. Caveman Fat Roland write financial demand to Ninja Tune on stone tablet, assuming it fit in postbox with large letter stamp. Me need money. People think cavemen lead simple life, but living in prehistoric time is expensive. Local newsagent charge 49p for bearskins – me pretty sure bearskins used to be 10p, and me reckon they got smaller too. Council put price of menhir polishing up and up – this is such rip-off, me rather have dirty boulders. Also, Cardboard Cutout Wife Fat Roland keen on velociraptor snot latte, and have you SEEN price of venti snot latte with cinnamon these days?

Speaking of Cardboard Cutout Wife Fat Roland, she no interested in my electronic music. She make me wear headphone while ITV2 ‘You Been Framed’ is on. She keep putting cup of tea on twig xylophone as though it is table. Me try talk to her about latest cool vinyl, but she pronounce Bowie and Moog wrong, so me walk off in huff. Also, she is pretend wife drawn onto cardboard, which pretty much make her uninterested in anything other than ‘Uptown Funk’ and Bruno Mars.

Apparently, normal Fat Roland is on way back from music shop – Dawson’s staff make Fat Roland pop out of tuba using margarine and broom handle. Me better finish column before he find out. While me got your attention, here is final comment. Last week, me invent fire. Fire is going to be new trend. No one interest in electronic music anymore. Big announce: next issue of Electronic Sound be called “Electronic Fire”. Just wait until me invent wheel – Caveman Fat Roland total blow your idiot modern mind.

0 Shares:
You May Also Like
Read More

Amoeba blobby thing

When our so-called columnist gets ideas above his station, we hang him upside down in the stationery cupboard for a bit. We forgot we’d put him there this month. He went a bit odd, can you spot the difference?
Read More

Madchester

A man who can’t understand that disco biscuits and chocolate biscuits aren’t quite the same thing, our… what’s that? He’s done it again, hasn’t he?
Read More

I Can Barely Cope

It’s been 13 long and cruel winters since the last Aphex Twin album and our resident columnist can’t believe a new one is here. He’ll be too twitchy to actually listen to it, mind