(still) Annoying The Neighbours - Carroll, Jc
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(Still) Annoying The Neighbours is the Autobiography of JC Carroll Bank songwriter, musician, shopkeeper, Pantomine scriptwriter, film composer and Internet concert performer.From bank clerk to punk rocker, From bedsit in North London to rock and roll heaven in Hollywood, "(still) Annoying the Neighbours" takes its title from the lyrics of The Members anthem "The Sound of the Suburbs" and traces the journey of Members Songwriter and guitarist JC "Jean-marie" Carroll a boy with three girls names catapulted from suburban obscurity into the punk rock limelight and then flung back onto the music…mehr

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(Still) Annoying The Neighbours is the Autobiography of JC Carroll Bank songwriter, musician, shopkeeper, Pantomine scriptwriter, film composer and Internet concert performer.From bank clerk to punk rocker, From bedsit in North London to rock and roll heaven in Hollywood, "(still) Annoying the Neighbours" takes its title from the lyrics of The Members anthem "The Sound of the Suburbs" and traces the journey of Members Songwriter and guitarist JC "Jean-marie" Carroll a boy with three girls names catapulted from suburban obscurity into the punk rock limelight and then flung back onto the music business scrap heap .. This is what JC writes in his book about his most famous song: -I felt a responsibility to play "The Sound of the Suburbs". That song could and would bring happiness to people that had grown up to it: it was the sound of their youth and bouncing around to it in a sweaty club for three to four minutes could and would take them back to a time where they were 17 years old with a full head of badly bleached hair, a 28-inch waist, and a fake leather jacket covered in pins and badges. That song was no longer just a song: it had become a time machine, an elixir of yoof, a magic pill that they could neck with a pint of lager to bring that youth club disco in a scout hut spinning back. It was not just a song, it was "The Sound of the Suburbs". It was the aspirations and ambitions of thousands of bored provincial teenagers from a hundred satellite towns, bottled and aged in a cellophane wallet.
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