Bleak British alternative folk-rock
Enter Clownland
From the channel notes
“One would have thought time and fate might bring some improvement.
There is no improvement to be found here.”
Original films from Clownland
From the archiveIt is most relieving to discover one descends from the criminally insane and the drunk. It explains a great deal.
Annie disappears from Dublin’s records and resurfaces across the Irish Sea: Liverpool, Manchester and eventually Wigan, glimpsed through Catholic registers and census returns, moving through some of the poorest communities in industrial England.
From the archiveThe motorcade was not meant to be here. Nor was Princip. Then the car began to reverse. Slowly. Awkwardly.
Princip walked closer. He had practised this. Mirrors. Targets. The same movements, again and again.
“A bleak British alternative folk-rock centred around a recurring character: Wooznam the Sad Clown.”
Wooznam & The Lickers
From the archiveThere exists a peculiar vanity among the creative types: the belief that grief, when poetically arranged, may reverse death, or at the very least render it aesthetically palatable.
From the archiveThere was a Tesco bag by the fruit machine. Inside was a banana skin that must’ve been there for days. It had gone hard and black. No danger of anyone slipping on it anymore.
I don’t know why people leave things like that lying around.
From the archiveIt all just seemed like such an unnecessarily morbid affair. And what a way for a prophet to sever ties with this mortal coil, if you pardon the pun, than with a very high-profile decollation at a dance.
You don’t f*ck with the Queen, whether you are a prophet or not.
Live from the ashtray
Who is Wooznam?
Nobody knows. More significantly, nobody generally cares.
But they should.
Wooznam is part human. Almost certainly part machine.
He writes. Sometimes sings.
Wherever there is tragedy, political violence, family dysfunction or an interesting death, Wooznam is sniffing about.
Not helping, obviously.
Just watching.
Ran away and joined the circus.
Guitarist. Occasional sibling. Occasional fuck-up. Co-writer. Violinist.
If there’s an instrument, he’ll play it. If not, he’ll sniff it.
This has not always improved matters.
Attention span of a fish. The thirst of one too.
Cool Hand Luke.
The brains.
This is relative.
Songwriter. Producer. Musician. Get the guitar.
Has an unusually high tolerance for bad ideas.
Many of them are his.
Which is probably why this works. His biggest obstacle is time.
The road
No performances currently announced.
Regrettably, even we have standards.You have reached the bottom.
