The Kooks
Naive

Wow...... what a trip......

True rockers, to be called as such, must be a complete mess at every concert, at the very least vomiting on the microphone, hitting overly insistent fans, being with a groupie without knowing her name, vomiting on her and saying "I love you" and then vomiting on her again.

In the beginning, there was music, the primitive man (rather ugly and hairy) who used stones and sticks as percussion, then we evolved (so they say) and now it seems you can make music come out of anything, from any medium, including cold ones like computers and synths. There are those who sell out to the majors to live, those who would let themselves be sodomized by Maria de Filippi to talk to Costantino Vitagliano, and those like me who are not afraid of backlash, because this world is sick, but also romantic, nostalgic like a Naive painting.

After a tour in almost every second-rate Irish pub (trainspotting style, to be clear), The Kooks manage to break out, emerging from a heap of naked and dirty carcasses like bands content with 100 euros a night, but then one fine spring day they discovered their single "naive" was liked, oh how it was liked, and the first calls from the record industry started, and there they are in Turkey, Greece, Bangladesh, and in Italy in MTV’s top ten.... wow...

Let's be clear, the song is very unique, the voice seems never to finish the sentence because it is so distorted, complicated, drunk, simple but exemplary for a genre like britpop which has never had such great singers (with the exception of the who), in short, this punk-pop thing couldn’t care less and makes noise...... as much noise as possible, so much that by the beginning of November "Inside in Inside Out" is at the top of the charts and The Kooks celebrate, throw parties with Pete Doherty's blood, wash their feet with Liam Gallagher's old sideburns and piss on the first Blur CDs.....

I wonder what will happen to them in a couple of years, I wonder what will happen to me in a couple of years, I hope to dry my hands with The Kooks' wigs.... everyone is the architect of their own destiny, dog eats dog, and there are no longer any middle seasons.... but however it goes, music can never be like the music of the old and out-of-fashion primitive men who banged stones against each other just for the joy of hearing some noise that hadn't been heard before....

ded to: my eighteen years thrown out the window and hit by a truck... download this song it's the soundtrack of October-early November...... I love you debaserians...