Irvine is a skinny, self absorbed wretch
propping up the wine cellar wall
shrouded in a stinking, tan leather coat
wrongly wearing, corduroy couture
his face, of course, is porcelain white
a tattooed tear falls from his left eye
he looks at you like - you missed every point
his first book of poems is on sale at the door
who would have thought?
he's written, doubtless - countless great songs
for untuned, one sting guitar
exemplar of the free noise scene
great walls of sound! - doesn't bother to sing,
who would have thought?
Irvine looked me square in the eye
told me he thinks he's paid a fair price
he said
success
will definitely come,
the question is whether
for all or for some
who would have thought?
Irvine embraced ambient glitch
whacked out on z80 bleeps
4 track cassettes and the Sheffield thing
sampling noise from the earliest neve's.
who would have thought?
for the luck of the draw
there do I walk
.....Flickers of Cabaret Voltaire..…jabs early 80s Gaelo-celtic geetar melody generously wrapped in an Eno-esque crust with undertones of post-industrial industrialness"