Men In Their 40's Have heart Attacks from TOO MUCH LOVE!

There are a lot of factors at play in my infatuation with Julian Cope: nascent unshakable Anglophilia, especially with eccentric ones; wannabe rock poet jealosy on my own part; the desire for primitive things from intelligent people (see my persistent Lou Reed obsession for further examples)

These live recordings from the 2003 Glastonbury festival reveal a dash of the Artaud-meets-Andy Kaufman-meets-Ozzy Osbourne rock-n-roll sigularity that presses my button.

Witness this bit of nutjob Al Green slobbering stage banter where he calls out a member of security:

and a fiery, bloated, feral lone-wolf howling against the apocalypse-he-started rendition of what often enters my mind as the coolest fucking rock song ever: "Upwards at 45 degrees."

and a great take on his thesis statement:
"Julian H. Cope"

and then the final ego-explosion breakdown: "Paramornal in the West Country"