Be careful Justin Currie! You may be able to handle the Black Thunder* served up at Glasgow’s “Persian’s Forehead” pub, but here in the new Fortress America we look askance at any foreigner ordering any beer but Bud Lite.
When you fly into Nashville (or wherever) to begin your tour of the pubs and music spaces of America, you will not be able to see the shinny glint off our new wall along the Mexican border, but, be assured, our ever-ready border guards will be waiting to frisk you. Let us pray they do no more!
Beware! When hired guns hear your cock and bull story about being born in a van near Paisley in a “hailstorm so vicious that it took a team of panel beaters a month to separate [your] forehead from the roof”, not even your pale American keyboardist may be able to rescue you from the collective terror with which our chest thumping politicians so gleefully besmirch our beloved soil.
Above all refrain from unseemly co-mixing with other Scotsmen (notorious for their libidinous skirts and bad whiskey) or musicians (all suspect, except for country western singers, for any may be supporters of the Far Left 's coddling of God’s enemies in our innocent midst).
Not that we wish to seem unfriendly! We welcome your self-labeled “thunderously dreary dirges”. Your sonorous wailing of “What is love for?” on your just released record is well known here, albeit in a pained sort of way. My only wish is that I could hear better the finely played tones of this American keyboardist, Peter Adams, whom you attempt to drown out at your tour engagements.
Finally, should you prove able to pass our ‘fair and balanced’ border inspection — perhaps by disguising yourself in suit and tie, we rejoice at our brief opportunity to applaud your tired versions of withered hits in this your latest American tour (April 13 — April 27). G_d willing, see you at Joe’s Pub!
*A vile mix of Guinness and red wine...gag.
Justin Currie & Peter Adams at Joe's Pub, NYC