I meet the mighty Clor at the Jolly Butchers, E1. A rougher looking bunch of hooligans you couldn't possibly hope to meet. Beyond description physically, any such attempt by me would merely open up the cracks in the English language to such an extent as to make you, dear reader, first start to doubt language itself as a useful tool of communication and then as your mania developed you would start to doubt the existence of the very world around you. Finally, you would be convinced that the Matrix was telling the truth and that wouldn't be any help would it, so I won't try.

But then I am Rashied the Monstrous; I walk among you as leper, as outkast, as fool to you princes and kings with new clothes, as jester to you princesses and queens of the plastic age. I have a cast iron constitution and the will to power and the key to the doors of your heart. And a £20 in my hand to get the beers in. Alcohol purchased, the interview can begin. Read and learn, students.

Rashied the Monstrous: "Hello Clor".

Clor: "Hello handsome".

Good start. Flattery always works with me. I like Clor even more.

RtM: "So, what's it like then"? Great opening gambit this, vague enough to cause bemusement.

C: "It's good and getting better".

Rats, an effective countermeasure. Time to change tack.

RtM: "Yo, you be blowin' up all over London. You still got time for your dawgs though, right"?

Not really sure what I'm saying here, just regurgitating something I heard Westwood come out with.
Luckily Clor know what I'm on about.

C: "Yeh we is like a family, a handsome family or maybe a family stone".

Confused by this clever answer to a stupid question, I continue in a stupid vein with:

RtM: "What's the time? Is it Gucci time, time to get ill, budwise or something else?"

C: "It's the age of optimism and the twilight of princes but maybe a bit of a renaissance for Prince himself"

Damn these Clor guys are good. Still in a state of chaos I


hear the following words come out of my mouth before I can stop them:

RtM: "What would Clor time be like? Or am I getting too personal?"

C: "Like spaghetti but not as long and thin or starchy more like flashing lights and stuff"

Right, time to go in for the kill. Any readers who know where the following question came from win a copy of the

Yellowcard cd.

RtM: "What's more orange, an orange or a carrot"?

C: "??".

Ha ha! Got 'em.

RtM: "Have you seen her"?

C: "Only in our dreams"

They reveal more about themselves than they realise with this answer, when analysed using Jung's techniques. But, onwards and upwards.


RtM: "I described you as a "pop Lightning Bolt", which once I'd written it down struck me as an incredible concept and possibly not the most accurate description of yourselves, but as it was such a nice idea I kept it in my article anyway. Did it strike a chord (excuse the pun) with what you're trying to do or were you really quite offended by my turn of phrase"?

C: "I always thought we resembled a kind of thunderclap or cloudburst or maybe a Borealis".

Neat. Very neat.

RtM: "Do you know where you're going to? Like in the song? She was singing to you".

C: "Just following the signs".

In a Barthian sense? I never find out.

RtM: "Have you ever met your maker? If so, what did he/she/it say to you"?

What a rubbish question. I deserve the following answer.

C: "Mostly small talk".

Time for a change of tack. Get them on my side.

RtM: "Will we ever see the Old Dirty back on stage with the Wu"?

C: "God, I hope so but maybe only when the world is a fairer, more just place".

And now we're on friendly terms, switch to bad cop to mess with their minds.

RtM: "When writing a new song I reckon you must take all of five minutes to write them. Is that right or is it much less than that"?

C: "We try to take a little time to reflect on our handiwork in deference to our listeners so 5 mins is about right".

Unsurprisingly, a fight ensues. Whilst I give as good as I get for about 20 seconds, it turns out that Rashied the Monstrous isn't mighty. Damn. Oh well, we shake hands and go our separate ways after they've stolen my wallet. Don't mess wit' Clor, people, they fight the good fight and they wanna rock wit 'cho. All-nite.

Go to www.clor.co.uk for more information.

Rashied Garrison