Julian Cope presents Head Heritage

December Drudion 2002 CE

December 2002ce

Hey Kiddies,

My mummy’s dead. She passed out of the atmosphere at the end of November, with loving cries of "Sweet relief" all around. I couldn’t have stood it if she’d slipped away any slower – for close to a month we knew she was gone but still had one reluctant foot in the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of her most far away loved ones, all of whom managed the motorway shlep and the final whispered ‘Ta-ra’. I thank everyone who has sent such thoughtful greeting and wished us well, but I do want you to know that I was prepared for it and I am fine.

So I’ve spent this month listening to some truly insane music, as this month’s fieldwork in Majorca and Menorca had to be cancelled in the light of these semi-expected family events. As well as the obvious veg-out via the magnificent Sunburned Hand of the Man, I’ve been listening to the live album by Finnish band Circle. For years now I’ve checked them out from time to time without ever being convinced beyond the occasional intellectual grunt of agreement. However, with the release of this new live album RAUNIO, that doubt has been kicked well into touch. Do yourselves a favour and cop an earful of RAUNIO, babbies – Krautrock with me, or watt! The other giant post-Acid Mothers Temple statement of recent months has come from the American band Oneida, whose EACH ONE TEACH ONE is an astounding double-CD of full-on one-note wall-of-noise meditation. Imagine "Helen Fordsdale" by the No New York band Mars crashing head on into that classic Ozzie 45"See Saw" by Solipsistik and both then continuing for a full quarter of an hour with the same intensity as AMT. Babbies U-Goddit!

Holy McGrail informed me that some thought I was being too harsh about the homogenising remix of RAW POWER, some even claiming that the new version had more ‘balls’. I guess that’s the big problem with people listening to ever-increasingly high fidelity music – they think louder is more ballsy, which to me is sheer Bollocks! RAW POWER’s incredible truth was its daring to have delivered its bratwurst holler without any balls at all, spewing out its effrontery exclusively via midrange and top-end: a veritable castrato splatter chatter, an Attisian screech from the ever-shifting bowels of a 5 stone weakling. Sure, we can make it more technically powerful and more-officially ‘rawk’. But that was hardly the undirected ejaculatory point that Iggy was trying to make back in those Jim Dandy/Ted Nugent days of 1973. Now was it, me dears? As I said when I slagged off Guns’n’Roses 10 years ago on the JEHOVAHKILL COMPANION: "… they think the louder they get the more rebellious it is. Well, then the greatest rock’n’roll would be made by the USAF or the Red Army – they are truly heavy metal." RAW POWER or THE MADCAP LAUGHS, DROOLIAN or FRIED: each one’s power is its sheer refusenik and psychic bombardment. RAW POWER needs more bass end? Tell that to the Cramps!

Hey, and after all my post-September 11th ranting about Donor wearing burkhas, Joan Jett has gone and done it while playing to troops in Afghanistan. How deadly rock’n’roll is that! Right now, we need as many similar such statements made as is possible while Islam is putting fatwahs on anyone who has been said to insult Allah or Mohammed. Actions speak louder than words, as I said to a friend of mine who reckons the prophet of Islam was probably a gunrunning dope dealer with scores of teenage boyfriends. No way, I shot back. If Allah was as heavy as he appears to the West, d’you honestly think the re-constructed Cat Stevens AKA Sonny Islam would still be able to let his kids play his old songs at home so openly, like he did in a Guardian interview a short while back. No Way.

Indeed, I take issue with ignorant Creedist put-downs of Islam just the same as I take issue with ignorant Creedist put-downs of Christianity. Get yer fax right! For example, Cradle of Filth’s rubbish song "Jesus is a Cunt" was clearly bullshit and bogus. Jesus was many things but the last thing he was, was a cunt. Look into THE MODERN ANTIQUARIAN (Ch. 4.34), and you will see clearly stated the language roots of the word ‘cunt’. Cunt is a word of the Goddess, and alludes to birth and the bringing forth of life, ideas, etc; hence its relationship with the modern ‘conduit’, its lingering tainting of the female word ‘cunning’, and the reason for Hinduism having a Goddess named Kunti.

Jesus Christ was a patriarchal prophet as anti-female as we can imagine, so, contrary to Cradle of Filth’s determined assertion, Jesus was certainly not a cunt.

Mohammed also was not a cunt.

Neither was Moses a cunt, nor was Zarathustra a cunt.

However, from evidence in The Norse Myths, it can certainly be asserted that Odin in his earliest guise was definitely a cunt, as were (of course) Freyja and Frigg, from whom he seems to have learned a great deal. One of the main reasons I claim to be Odinist is because of his roots as a powerful God steeped in the female traditions. This manifests in his position as bringer of the poem or Ode, and in his clandestine practise of the female magic known as seething.

Many modern artists could be said to be conduits or ‘cunts’, dependent on how we view their roots. I would claim, for example, that the very patriarchal and compassionless artist Damien Hirst is clearly not a cunt, whereas Tracey Emin surely is. Nick Cave is in no way a cunt, whilst I clearly am a real cunt. The Stooges were never cunts but the MC5 were cunts every one (even changing the lyrical content of some of their songs because women found them unrighteous).

Okay, I’ll clear off now, while I’m still making sense to y’all. Have a magically merry Winter Festival and think of the Shiny Guy once in a while. As Robert Graves once pointed out, worship of Jesus can be fairly easy if you think of him as having been brought forth from the unseeded cunt of the Virgin Goddess.

I’ll close with a final comment from my beloved late mother, who recently (and with raised eyebrows) told my daughters, Albany and Avalon, that when I was a toddler, I was accepting of everything she would sing to me: "except anything to do with Jesus and angels. Whenever I mentioned poor old Jesus, he’d just scream his head off and howl." My kids just loved to hear that!

Love Fucking Peace,

JULIAN (Cunt of Yatesbury)