EXPOSED

Thanks to Seamus24 for his/her support.

My Blog # 011

This is a very brief update for my fans.

I am currently snowed under with legal writs which may jeopardise my future musical career. I am also dealing with the police as for the past two weeks I have been receiving death threats: this is a plea for whoever has been sending them to stop, the house you are posting them to belongs to my father who has done nothing wrong.

The Gods willing, I hope to speak to you all soon bearing better news.
R

My Blog # 010 including information on Tory Boys

As prophicised in my previous blog, I have run into troubles releasing my latest album 'Tory Boys'. I am currently seeking legal help to get this resolved as quickly as possible. It seems despite being a co-owner of BOTB-Records subsidiary label 'tifg_projects' I have no freedom to release music ever again. I am appealing to try and move (what remains!) of my back-catalogue over to the main BOTB-Records label but there seems to be a conspiracy against me as nobody is replying to my requests. This is an incredibly angering time and I thank Eileen for her patience and my father for putting a roof over my head.

So what next? Well I suppose the most important thing is that you, the fan, are able to get a copy of 'Tory Boys'...

My Blog # 009 which includes an open letter to Mr. Glenn "Steve Wicked" Glenson and Mr. Robert "Bob" Heart.

Much as Jesus was shafted by Judas, Castro by Kennedy, Waters by Gilmour, several weeks ago a major injustice was served out. Although I haven't had any personal messages, I know all you fans will have been worried about my lack of web presence following this months incidents. Just to let you know, I am in good health, living back at my father's in Thurso. 

"Obsessive Possessive"

Obsessive
Possessive
Excessive
Depressive

Aggressive
Oppressive
Regressive
Recessive

Expressive
Progressive
Impressive
Successive

"Rationality Avoiding (A Mantra)"

These words were assembled from my draft lyrics for 'The Mantra'. I recorded a deeply emotive vocal take for that song (which subsequently got erased) however for Recreated I returned to the original sombre, haunting, monotone vocal which is much more effective on what has become a much better song, 'Rationality Avoiding'. Hopefully this will be a future single from the album.

---

Rationality Avoiding (A Mantra)

The night grew cold about an hour ago
Unless I've been asleep much longer

You come in my room
The orange light grew
Then I first thought I saw you there

In limelight we all know
(In limelight) all there is to know
Then you came back

All alone, I'm all alone
Rationality avoiding

The night grew cold about an hour ago
Unless I've been asleep much longer
Rationality avoiding

In limelight we all know,
All there is to know

Rationality avoiding...

"Tory Boys"

This is a song about why I had to leave the destructive environment that was The Ill-Fitting Garibaldis.  It's dedicated to two former work colleagues; I hope they take this to heart.


Tory-Boy  [taw-ee boi], noun

1. one having a false or unrealistic belief or opinion.
2. Psychiatry. one who maintains fixed false beliefs even when confronted with facts, usually as a result of mental illness.
3. delusional.

---

Tory Boys

So you thought your words could blind over truth
I tell you yes, but it's only worked on you
And what of things that were promised all along
Out-dated expressions rely on nothing without song

My heartfelt meanings went straight over your head
The way you operate is akin with being stone dead
I have more intelligence than the both of you combined
And when my sounds are heard you'll realise you're totally blind

I turn the page and blow your sounds off the chart
My incredible direction leaves yours a stale art
No holding me back because this talent can't be contained
And the refrain? You'll be singing it 'till your dying day

Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Oooh,
And you don't realise

The hypercondriacs were you all along
I suffered in misery for your lousy songs
Listen up: this is what you're missing
My sounds are fresh and bold: no dismissing

Taking the rhythms and tunes up a notch
My lyrical flow isn't half what you got
Acting all G when it's you who were not
The masters of rhyme more spineless bastards
Quentin Blake proved I could do this
Slippery Elm proved you were shit  
When telling me I was too white to write rap
You couldn't foresee coming this mighty bitch slap

Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Oooh,
And you don't realise

You're Tory Boys
Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Oooh,
And you don't realise
Your life's a comprimise
Because you can't chastise
My talented reprise
Suck on my talent guys!

Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Tory Boys - you're living a lie
You're Tory Boys
Oooh,
And you don't realise

I'm the greatest
I'm the best
My name is Rory
Through envy you detest me!

"I Smell Brown"

Here's the first song I have written since deciding to leave The Ill-Fitting Garibaldis. It is in a similar vain to a song I wrote which was subsequently titled 'Texas Is Friggin' Great' and released as a single, much to my dismay. I was very unhappy with the gimmicky nature of those words and the performance of the vocals; with 'I Smell Brown' you can get a glimpse at what I intended. I think you'll agree it's a huge improvement.

---

I Smell Brown

I smell brown - all around
It's time for a fresh sound in this town
Ticking clock - crusty sock?
There'll be no slander this time around!
Five to one - one in three
The odds were stacked against me
But I fought - thick and thin
I'm off the booze now, I got that from my system!
Who knew - you fools
I'd succeed and leave you wasted in the gutter
Can't you tell - you're going to hell
The Gods on my side and we're laughing at your fate now
Save the world - save the poor
My message clear now I've grown up right and proper
Life was grim - sick on chin
I hit the bottom and survived it for the better
I got to say - I hate the gays
I don't care what you bring up in my past
You say what? - you cannot stop
I'm on another level here's what I've got to say:

As time goes by from sea to sand
We roll with punches, we farm the land
A cuckoo nesting feeds on salt
Rhyme or reason, without fault
My humble message spreads the word
Of God and lovers, friend and foe
Run with me
Save the bee
The planet's weeping can't you see?

Catharsis

I have no words,
Only sound
Now.

My Blog # 008

A message to the fans.

I feel I need to explain myself before Garibaldi break-up rumours begin to trend worldwide...

It's currently early morning, Monday 5th August, I'm writing from Rob's attic again. The new TIFG album was meant to be released today however I'm sorry to announce the album's been pushed back indefinitely due to irreconcilable artistic differences.

I should explain myself: due to changes in my personal circumstances over the past months (we finished recording the album several months back) I have since become unhappy with elements the album. These predominantly revolve around vocal parts. I am not an egotistical man and appreciate my colleagues artistic input, however I feel there have been ongoing problems vocally from certain members of the band. This has resulted in what I would call, a lack of sufficient emotion.

This realisation presented itself to me on the friday night after a drinking session with Rob. I explained my thoughts to him and he strongly disagreed. It is for this reason I took the bold move of confiscating the master tapes. I spent saturday in the Mis-Factory Studios re-recording many of the vocal parts (in the case of one track out of sheer anger I permanently deleted the existing takes! It was an absolute mess!!) and stripping back mixes, injecting them with the raw emotion I originally envisioned.

I am now completely happy with this revised version of the album, which has been reduced from an excessive 23 tracks to just 8.  All of which more being more emotionally charged compositions of mine.  I'm excited to announce the title of the album is "Tory Boys" but due to contractual issues it will now not be released for the considerable future.

I feel I should be completely honest about what these contractual issues will entail: the brand new Ill-Fitting Garibaldi album "Tory Boys" can only see release with 100% of bandmember's in agreement. Thus Steve Wicked will no longer be a member of the Ill-Fitting Garibaldis. It will be sad to see him go, however, I feel musically, it's for the best. I intend to take up all production duties alongside songwriting and lead vocals.

Rob's future with the band may also be in jeopardy if he is not willing to accept the musical changes I have in mind.  I will keep you updated, loyal fans.  Whatever happens, you have my personal guarantee The Ill-Fitting Garibaldis' focus will solely be musical growth.

I love you all and with your support Garibaldis' seventh LP "Tory Boys" will be out soon!

Thanks,
Rory.

My Blog # 007

Hello virtual friends,

I return to the interweb courtesy of my good friend Robert, with whom I am currently staying. The previous weeks, following my last blog, have been turbulent; the changes in my life are as follows:

1. I am no longer drinking alcohol
2. I have decided to ditch my therapist
3. I have just finished an exciting commissioned piece for upcoming artisté, Azeem Muhammed
4. I will need to find a new home asap

July 2013 has been a dark dark month in my life. My trusty diary has helped me through the hard times but I will not be publishing these entries online as they are far too personal for public reading.

In brief, the past few weeks has been spent living on the streets. Due to certain unfortunate incidents, me, Spud and Lex got kicked out of the hostel. We got mixed up in a bad crowd whilst sleeping rough in Sharlston Common (south of Normanton, Wakefield) and in a scuffle Lex got killed. I was arrested the same night with many of the Sharlston crowd, although I have no clear memories of any of this. I first became aware of Lex's death two days later when I sobered up. CCTV showed it was Spud that killed Lex - she is currently on the run. The police tried to contact my family but didn't want to release me with no place of residence. Jo at the hostel agreed to take me back but I was kicked out again for drinking. Reading my diary, I seemed to have considered hitch-hiking to Thurso but I don't think I attempted this. Looking back I must have spent at least 8 nights sleeping rough. My only vivid memory is being frightened by a cat which resulted in getting run over by a cyclist and damaging my wrist. I also remember the weather being hot which made things easier in a way. I don't know how I managed to keep drunk but I did up until last weekend. I arrived at Robert's house on sunday and he let me sober up properly in his attic, where I am writing from now. I am deeply grateful for his kindness. My head still feels hungover even though I haven't drunk cider for five days now. I've decided to take control of my life and I vow never to drink again, EVER. My wrist still aches from the road collision leaving me paranoid I might not drum ever again.

On a more positive note, returning to the studio (for what seems like the first time in months) has left me in improving spirits (hence the energy to write this new blog entry!) Cleethorpes' rapper Azeem Muhammed - who co-produced a track on the upcoming TIFG album - has been working on a single with Rob and asked me if I would contribute. I've decided to do another remix of "Late Last Night On the Promenade" based around the rhythmic vocal montage Azeem composed (of a very clever american called Alex Jones).

It is a relief to be back in the presence of Rob who is like an older brother to me. I know I am cramping his living style however so I am making an effort to find a new place to move into for his sake. Tomorrow's task: see if Craig needs an extra set of hands in the warehouse; now: time for bed.

R.

My Blog # 006

Dear Diary,

My therapist says I should treat you (my blog) like a friend, so this is how I will now be addressing you. I am continuing to have a fairly turbulent time in day-to-day life however my new friends at the ymca have been showing me how to have a great time and have helped me discover a love of cider. White Star is my current favourite. Me, Spud and Lex have spent a lot of time walking and drinking together, exploring the streets of Barnsley, walking to Roystone, Cawthorne and Silkstone. Next week we plan on going to Grimethorpe and maybe having a few nights at a shelter in South Elmsall. 

I don't see my old work colleagues much these days, it is unlikely whether I shall be seeing GG at all, and BH has been avoiding me. I have not been missing them however and drinking has proved to be a good way of forgetting about them. Lots of people get addicted to alcohol but I hear that's because they just can't handle their drink. The only side-effect I have from cider is hangovers and a bit of emotional distress (I am now prone to crying myself to sleep). My therapist says I shouldn't worry too much about the latter as it's a normal occurrence for people like myself. I think by this he means creative people.

Lastly, I recently read some tweets INCORRECTLY stating new titles for The Ill-Fitting Garibaldis upcoming album. I can officially announce the title will be either "Sorry, Signed God" or "The Saggy Baps & Bowler Hats Album". I personally prefer the latter but the other two bandmembers are pushing for the former. Both titles are mine so really I don't mind which is picked.  Oh, also, my online entries may be more sporadic from now on as I no longer have regular access to a computer.

R.

My Blog # 005

So I totally didn't mean for this blog to become a place for bitchyness however i found this vid earlier and it sums up COMPLEETLY how I feel about life right now:  I HAVE to share it with yuo all./ Iv been drinking but thisis fine becuase i am very depressed with my life.

also fuck bob. seriously fuck hiim.

My Blog # 004

Several things that have been nibbling at my patience over the last few days:

1. After finally tracking down a reliable phone number, "GG" continues to ignore me.
2. I'm being forced to pay £12 subscription fee to tzuke.com; it may be worth it in the long run but right now that's an excessive charge.
3. Despite a welcome return to the workplace, colleague "BH" refuses to see me outside of work hours.
4. I was snubbed in a tweet by "GG" who claimed I didn't understand international call charges. To begin with this is factually incorrect. Secondly, it raises money issues which is currently a black-hole topic I don't want to get into online - the crux of which being over the past six months, on at least two occasions, LARGE sums of money have gone missing from the work account. "GG" has gone on to post pictures on social websites of said cash in his possession. This may be an issue for my lawyer so I will say no more for the time being.
5. Myspace deleted seven years of blog postings from The Garibaldis' page. This is unacceptable.

R.

My Blog # 003

On the back of recent confusion I'd like to try and clear-up some things for fans of The Garibaldis. Although I do not wish to smear my work colleagues, due to ongoing lack of communication between us, I feel pressured into releasing a statement on behalf of those who continue to loyally support myself, Steve Wicked and Rob Heart.

My Blog # 002

Problems are escalating. Wires are being crossed. Confusion is taking over.
My therapist has told me these are the times it is most important to write.
I fear things are getting out of hand; actions have been misinterpreted; rumour has clouded judgement. I am scared for my relationships. Executive decisions are being made in the workplace by invisible voices. I feel I may be getting shafted, slow and hard. It is in times like these I wish there was a supernatural super-being who would answer my cries...
For BH: why?
For GG: I desperately need to speak to you, please please please call me.

My Blog # 001

Hello, I'm Rory McButt.
Despite this being my official blogspot and having blogged before here, alongside posting regularly here, this is my first personal blog. The forthcoming My Blog's will essentially be online diary entries. As they're publicly viewable I will be disguising the identity of certain individuals for personal reasons.

Lonesome, This Night

Lonesome, troublesome, this night
Cannot be right these rumours of flight
For what? I ask. For what?

Wonder aloud, wondering around
Your sound echoes through reverb chambers,
That song. Without now?
What's gone wrong?
These long nights...

I smell like suicide

Feeling like Charlie and Craig Reid's
"Caledonian clown"
I reminisce and wish my
Scottish roots were somewhat more,
Prominent.

Have I lost my way?
I rediscover "Turning Stones" - it helps:
Judy Tzuke's philosophy of youth
"We'll go dreaming" forever-more
At least I hope; for now
I can but mope.

The man whose name rhymed with
Mandy, remains in my thoughts;
Such tragedy.

Life goes on (a thanks)

I would like to dedicate a few words to my good friends Steve and Robert. From the possibility of an emotionally irksome week, today they helped me see that life goes on. They continue to shape me for the better both externally (courtesy of Steve's fashion direction) and internally (Rob's philosophy). I am deeply in gratitude for all they have done and continue to do in my life. This is for them, with (brotherly) love.

---

LIFE GOES ON (A THANKS)
Construction from evulsion

To thee and thou I express gratitude

In the way I only know how.

CUPCAKES

THESE WORDS ARE FOR HIM:
FUCK YOU
I'LL EAT THE
FUCKING CUPCAKES
MYSELF.

No Justice (I.U.P.G.)

On March 23rd I was arrested under mistaken identity and held in a police cell for four nights. Despite my innocence, I was verbally abused, sexually humiliated and held in contempt by those in charge. With no money, upon release I forced to hitch-hike 75 miles to Glossop.

---

NO JUSTICE
(INNOCENT UNTIL PROVEN GUILTY)

No justice, no justice

I'm innocent I say.
Give us your name they say
I'm innocent I protest.
Where were you on this date they aggress
I'm innocent I cry.
Shackled they split my eye,
My innocent eye.

No justice, no justice

Groping they accuse,
In a loving relationship I prove.
Guilty they imply when
Innocent, am I.
For the crime of mistaken identity
A fiddling nonce I may become,
In the eyes of their justice.
Where's my justice?

Oh, Lucre

For without we sink
An audial abyss
That which doesn't attract
Fails in its reap
And ho-ho how low
We who doth preach
Nobody hears the band
Nobody hears the band
Oh, lucre

A poem for him

Indebted to your kindness,
through sacred natured time
we dance in the name of Eros.
Randy.

"Track 1" [a short story]

It was round about midnight when we rolled into Nebraska

How exactly we were going to hunt down our favoured Asian mystic in the light

- I was not sure

My thought train shattered by the crooning beside me -

Loretta was hungry and it dawned philosophical enlightenment would not be possible

with her a'caterwauling

Pulling into an all-night burger joint

A glint in the rearviewmirror reminds me of a spherical lampshade I used to own.

"Man of the moment" Steven Bunting serves up several super-sized and as the lukewarm meat ingests I reflect on my journey

Back in the Caddy' the sounds of "Devia Kokomo" from the radio blast

If intrauterine genocide punk were a style - these cats sure played it well

Her belly full of meat, Loretta drifts off beside me

The radio barely audible over her snoring

Pulling up at a red light I just make out the announcement "...war"

President Robert Buttons taking on China? O ladyboy-ladyboy!

Like my fifth time on acid suddenly this trip's taken a turn for the worse

And that's when it dawned -

I'd come all this way for an Asian mystic to predict my future?

My future had just fallen into place

- I needed to escape this country before the draft came in.

I'm heading for the coast - it's decided

First task, leave Loretta somewhere

Second task?

Last Words

Without spontaneity what are we.
Without spontaneity just machines.
Without authority how are we?
No grace under pressure, no ill-fitting dentures.
A portrait of society when all is told.
Artists fold as dartists hurl.
The evil eye stares on, Jenkins' at home.
Garibaldis' conquest relies on the understanding
Portrait of Society(')s alright. McButt signing off.