Ceramic Hobs

Ceramic Hobs - 33 Trapped Chilean Miners [Parts 1 - 3]
Must Die records. MDR/033. 7” Single.

Contact: www.mustdierecords.co.uk


It would appear that as the Ceramic Hobs hurtle towards their demise their every release becomes ever more important. Their self imposed immolation, promised after a series of releases all named Oz Oz Alice, may still be a prophecy too far but if it urges them into a creative corner as good as this then their last days are going to be the icing on a very big cake.

Within the epicenter of the Hobs there now revolves the furtive brain of Simon Morris, their original and [after 20 odd {odd?} years] only surviving member. 33 Trapped Chilean Miners may credit nine other players but its thanks to Morris, unfettered and reveling in his own muck since the departure of long standing member Stan Batcow, that we have to thank for their slow descent into a peculiar psychedelia that comes tinged with DIY drugs, the Freemasons and feedback.

And it all comes out of Blackpool of course, their hometown with which they will be forever inextricably linked. This festering pit of forced jollification has more prescriptions for anti depressants than it has residents, plus a permanent trade in day trippers hell bent on getting pissed as quickly as possible. Its the perfect place for the Hob sound to evolve from pop punk beginnings to todays much darker goings on. For by now the drugs must have seeped into the very atoms that make up the Hobs brain. The brain that seeps freemasonry, Blackpool, Power Electronics, the Illuminati, religion, pandemics, psychiatry and middle of the road bland as a boiled tripe rock.


33 Trapped Chilean Miners revolves around the number 33. I know this because I not only have the single but I also have the accompanying video courtesy of Youtube. For once the visuals have come to the aid of the audio.

Taken as a stand alone single its impressive as it is; a straight off guitar thrash with Morris screaming ‘33 trapped Chilean miners’ to a background of hammered drums and government advice on what to do in case the big one drops. After a brief glimpse of Telly Savalas singing ‘If’ the next seven minutes become a much darker beast with the whole thing churning into a stygian morass of mushed power chords against which Morris hangs out his favourite bits of washing to dry. This is where the video comes into its own. Not only do you get to listen to all three parts in one lump you get juxtaposed images that include a decaying Blackpool, a loony tunes Pope, Rowan Williams, traffic accident footage, some builders, a black woman in the depths of a voodoo transmogrification, two blokes asleep in a pub ... scattered amongst this are looped shots of Morris himself, headphones donned and obviously in a doped up rapture to whatever it is he’s listening to. As the single ventures ever further into its deeper ends Morris talks of hidden motorway exists [Junction 5 on the M65] and their old favourites the Freemasons [the sleeve and single mention the Masonic injunction I.T.N.O.T.H.A.U.T. which no amount of Googling translates but which I’ll stab at translating as ‘In the name of the …].

And then there’s the number 33 itself. Its the speed at which the record plays of course but to some its also an auspicious number, its also the highest degree of rank in the Freemasons, the age at which Jesus supposedly died and then theres the KKK [eleventh letter x 3].

Not just a mere single then but an almanac of Hobs interest with some fine bad drug music to go with it. As ever I’ve only just scratched the surface in regards to hidden meanings and the various samples included [the three parts are broken with schmaltz pop with some unknown joining Telly Savalas as interlude makers]. For those with more time on their hands than me a whole new world lies in wait.


We’ll miss em when they’ve gone.