Perfect Chicken’s regressive rock manifesto
Something new is brewing in Middlesbrough. The ground is rumbling, glasses of water are vibrating, and three giant eggs are cracking. From them, clad in balaclavas, a band is emerging. It is not a punk band, not a rock band, not progressive nor pioneering. They are Perfect Chicken. This is the dawn of regressive rock.
No, not progressive rock; how dare you. Standing as the ultimate anthesis to bands like Pink Floyd and King Crimson and especially out to oppose the legacy of Genesis, regressive rock spits in its face and offers up a complete flip side to its so-called ‘adventurous’ or ‘epic’ sounds.
While all that was spearheaded by David Gilmour or some other born in Cambridge, based in London, posh-accented player, regressive rock is the brainchild of Perfect Chicken, a three-piece unit found causing chaos and confusion somewhere in the northeast. As they prepare to release Pecking Order, their debut album, they must first define their mission in order for the masses to truly appreciate and understand their artistry.
Similar to Martin Luther nailing his 95 theses onto the door of a church, causing a religious revolution, Karl Marx circulating his Communist Manifesto around the working men or God declaring his rules down to Moses: here are Perfect Chicken to lay down their law in what will no doubt become a historic document.
The regressive rock manifesto by Perfect Chicken:
Hello, dear reader, and good dawn/morning/noon/afternoon/evening/dusk (whichever applies to you directly). We are Perfect Chicken, a trio of anonymous sound emitters from the equatorial paradise of Teesside, or more specifically, the industrial village of Lazenby. There exists a corner shop, a pub, and a social club in the village of Lazenby. These three institutions have been our only exposure to the world beyond our coop — until now.
Due to an error by the local council, we have legally escaped into the wider north/northeast region and exposed ourselves accordingly. We weren’t just twiddling our little greasy thumbs while we gestated, though, you twat. Our existence within a closed system led us to create a philosophy — a mode of being that underpins all societal and cultural structures. We call this doctrine regressive rock. Not to be confused with musical genres like ‘prog-dub’ or ‘donk-bop’, regressive rock is a lifelong commitment and cannot be taken lightly.
This is our manifesto, chronicling the very strict details of how to become ‘reg rock’. Through our extensive program, you, too, can learn how to become commercially unviable, loved only by those deemed undesirables. Perchance.
Rule 1. Reg rock is an excuse to take the piss on stage.
Rule 1a. It is entirely permissible to actually piss on stage.
Rule 2. You mustn’t learn or improve your musical/instrumental skills beyond your current understanding.
Rule 3. You must always conceal your identity.
Rule 3a. Your anonymous identity must overtake and replace your “real” original persona.
Rule 3b. If both of your parents are on ITV, you must eat them to regain credibility.
Rule 4. You must exist as a three-piece* band with guitar, drums, bass, and keyboard. Members must alternate between these instruments as necessary (except the drummer).
*This rule is flexible, and circumstances can allow multiple anonymous collaborators. Never point it out. Simply act like you have spawned extra limbs. If anyone else points it out, gaslight them.
Rule 5. If a song is longer than 60 seconds, consider it for a B-side.
Rule 6. If a song is longer than 120 seconds, it is far too self-indulgent and must be trimmed accordingly.
Rule 7. You must have been bullied in secondary school.
Rule 8. You must compose and perform a song that only concludes when you are physically incapable of continuing to perform it.
Rule 9. Scotch eggs are mint, as are pork scratchings.
Rule 9 and a bit. Sometimes, scotch eggs and pork scratchings are a bit shit.
Rule 10. When you’re in Teesside, you’ve got to get a Parmo (dietary requirements notwithstanding).
Rule 11. Don’t be a little dirty weirdo, be the dirtiest little weirdo.
Rule 12. Someone please help us turn off parental controls on the iPad so we can do research, please.
Rule 13. Save your local social club.
Rule 14. If you can’t be arsed remembering all that, remember the three C’s: Keep it Cheap, Cheerful, and Cheesy.
These are the very strict rules to follow and maintain to be a part of this new “genre”. Anyone who does not follow these rules will be subject to trials against humanity by God manifest.
