Wednesday, September 22, 2004


Loki on "Headhunter" by Front 242: "...for a few brief months in the early 1990s, you'd find people skulking around the edges of clubs in Yeovil sporting ski goggles that reflected the strobes in variously phantasmogorical ways, and parachute boots that made their skinny legs look like golf clubs..."

As much as I appreciate Loki's help in building a definitive Yeovil Alt.Mythos worthy of MES, PKD and HPL, I feel duty-bound to point out that they were probably dressed like that not because they were pioneering some novel form of Rural Industrialism ("Rural music for Rural People", "Music from the Death Farm", etc, etc) but because they'd just gone for a pint at The Yeovil Ski Club.

Yep, strange as it sounds, Yeovil had (and still has) it's own dry ski run. The building has a sort of vague Austrian/Swiss Design Conceit going for it: a Modernist, slanting roof reminiscent of a badly-painted backdrop from Heidi the Movie...I think it used to be called The Ski Lodge, but is now known as The Yeovil Alpine Centre or something equally Middle-class. How very, very.

I've been desperately trying to find some fliers for the old Ski Club, but I have failed (sob). The bastards don't even have a website.

Still, it used to be a good place to get totally tolchock'd on guarana and devil-lager after a storming friday night session on Shockwave FM. And, yes, there would usually be one or two sad souls wandering around in ski-goggles, shrink-to-fit mauve shell-suits and Vince Noir boots like they'd just teleported in from a bad pastiche of Kloisters. These days, though, it's more of a haunt for smart village-dwelling couples who enjoy a bit of Ringoing, which is a little like Dogging, except it involves making a tit of yourself in public with an inflatable rubber ring.

Meanwhile, though, Loki's (surely drunkenly-imagined) Rural Industrialists in paramilitary/terrorist Ski Chic feels like a scene still waiting to happen.


Yet more evidence (as if you needed it) that Yeovil is twined with Arkham:

I'm quite jealous of Psychbloke; he lives in Bristol and gets to post slick photos of stencilled street art and graf-bomb illos. Down here, it's household emulsion paint and rural strangeness. Sorry the picture's so damn murky, but I used a £2.99 Tesco 'Value' disposable analogue-camera, the lighting was really bad and I was being pursued by a gang of hooded cultists at the time.

But if you click and enlarge, you can actually see the violent boldness of the brushstrokes; thick paint agressively daubed; you can imagine the artist holding the brush in their fist, almost stabbing the wall. Pagan Art Brut.

What the hell was going on in their mind when they did it?