Never mind that s**t, here comes Henry Cow...

In case you’re won­der­ing about just which micro-budgeted artist­ic aggreg­a­tion your humble blog­ger has zero reser­va­tions about get­ting behind, well, I have two words, and I’m sure you’ve guessed them by now. In one fell swoop—a swoop that I under­stand cost Mr. Chris Cutler more than one decade—the monu­ment­al band Henry Cow pretty much trebles its offi­cial recor­ded out­put, with a box set of nine CDs (ten if you’re one of the faith­ful sub­scribers, as I was—we happy few are gif­ted with an odds & sods bonus disc) and one DVD. 

I am beside myself with hap­pi­ness. The Cow has been one of my very favor­ite bands ever since Fred Frith’s broth­er Simon tipped me off to his gui­tar­ist sib­ling’s geni­us in the pages of Creem oh so many years ago. The box arrived today, and I’ll need some time to pro­cess it, but I’m get­ting on it now. No less a per­son­age as the estim­able Girish Shambu has reques­ted more music post­ings on this site, and here’s a per­fect oppor­tun­ity. I’m sure it’ll send my traffic through the roof, too. Watch this space. But don’t fret, there’ll be more cinema stuff, too…