Regarding the Pixies/SECC fiasco of June. surely [ am not the only one a tad peeved as to the way the fans are being treated.
Its bad enough forking out hard earned cash to suffer the dreadful acoustics normally found at the SECC. but to stand around for over three hours listening to support bands and then have the show called offis an utter disgrace.
; The fault seems to lie with the SECC. what with it being their barrier that collapsed. but they have kept remarkably quiet about any sort of refund. Their ‘the show had started so no refunds‘ excuse sounds to me like a cheap way of hoping that as time passes people will forget and the problem will go away. I hope not.
It‘s about time this debacle was sorted out. so [ implore all Pixies fans who were present to take a stance. Go on. complain to someone — stick up for our rights as the paying public. After all. why should we lose out for someone else‘s (ie the SECC‘s) inability to stage a proper show?
Stand up - Are you a Pixie or a mouse?
We wonder ifthe manager at the SECC has anything to add to this corresponden(e?
Pick and Mix
[thought that you should be warned ofcertain outpourings of the spell check on my word processor. which suggests replacements for words it does not recognise. Sometimes it gets things right: the suggested replacement for Gourock is Gomorrah. So having a few minutes to while away. [ decided to see what the suggested replacements for some of The List‘s key contributors are. Film critic 'I‘revor Johnston is
replaced by Tractor Joints. Agenda writer Alan Morrison should be All Motion. Music editor Alistair Mabbott is Alerter Maddest and jazz mad Kenny Mathieson would be Keen Machines. But I was most bemused when I typed in ‘Pepsi'. (which ofcourse goes excellently with a bottle ofJoke Curve Textile) and the computer thought it was a penis! My mind boggles at what it will make of ‘Coke‘. and. ifthe replacement is what [ think it might be. can you taste the difference? Mischief [)isks
(aka Michael Dickson)
[I is not your anonymous sports writer's fault. of course. but they (he? she? it?) got their predictions for the Hibs/Hearts local Derby (The List 157) completely wrong. Far Lfrom being an exciting match fraught
Peeved with poor service? feeling down because prices are too high? or just fed up with consumerism? Why not pick your pen and write to The List. Your letter might even win you a bottle of Jose Cuervo Tequila!
0 ‘\ \ \\s\\\u .- \
with local rivalry. the result ofwhich I will be able to crow about at the corner shop until Christmas. it was a tedious. boring load of hype.
‘I Iopefully the football will take precedence over the war' you wrote. lfthis standard ofplaying carries on. then both teams' fans will be united in all-out battle against the respective managers. I must admit that this was the first match [ had been to for two years. so I was thunderstruck by the cost of getting in: £6! That is a 50 per cent increase over the price I last paid. So how about some real football. Joe and Alex. and at a price we can afford? Pauline Rice Brunswick Road Edinburgh
Meat the author
A few issues ago you published a letter of mine about the exploitation ofanimals for human entertainment (The List 152). This provoked a bickering correspondence between Phil Astley and a sad character called Kevin Sinclair whose only sane remark was that [ do not need Phil Astley to spring to my defence.
Phil Astley. meanwhile. rounded off his letter with the glib and over-used phrase ‘meat is murder‘. I
suppose we should be thankful to that charlatan Morrisey for knocking some vegetarian consciousness into the population with his ‘song‘ of the same name. but if meat is murder. whose murder are we talking about? [would suggest that it is the murder of the human soul. And I don't expect Kevin Sinclair to understand that.
[ cannot. in my wildest imaginings. understand how Mark Fisher/The List can recommend Wildcat‘s production of The Cheviot, The Stag & the Black. Black Oil. The original 7:84 version had left its impact: [ remembered it as sharp and revealing. Inspired to see it again. [ took along visitors to the Festival, thinking it‘d provide them with a powerful insight into Scotland's plundered wealth and cultural destruction. lightened with occasional injections ofsardonic humour.
[never expected such a load ofold tosh. Amidst slapstick and . mortifying overacting. all cynical wit and historical facts were diluted or lost in guffawing bufoonery. I
seriously thought I had walked into the wrong venue. [f [‘d wanted sixth-form pantomime. I‘d have held out till Christmas.
What an insult to Scotland's history and people: a chance lost to expose who paid the price of ‘progress‘. who reaped the benefits. and what really goes/went on behind the tartan stereotypes — but this play simply reinforced them.
[fJohn McGrath had no connection with the updated production. he should take apart Wildcat‘s interpretation of his work. If he was involved. he ought to be tarred. feathered. and locked in a room with Harry Lauder‘s ghost. Gennie Poole Dunrobin Place Edinburgh.
Well, Gennie. had you encapsulated these sentiments in just 100 pithy words we could have printed it as a review, butyou didn't, so we’llhave to give you a bottle of Jose (.‘uervo Tequila for this week '3 best letter.
Get it licked
How come we have so few good adverts in The List? [ mean, North American Lager and naughty nudes at the Royal Scottish Academy are all right. but how about something a bit more. well. upmarket? Sexy ice cream perhaps. or Benetton clothes.
Are we too proletarian for these products? Or don’t they think that Scots eat ice cream or wear smart outfits? Or are there just not enough ofus?
[[ow about giving the Haagen Dazs advert for trendy ice cream nudes a regular spot in the Clubs section: ‘I‘m gonna lick me up’ or what? Who knows what sort ofweird cult you could start! So how about it advertising people. A magazine is more than just editorial you know. Sue Campbell Bruce Road Glasgow
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80 The List [3 — 26 September 1991
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