I Am Catflea Massacre
A near lifelong fan of both Ska & Reggae. From the first time of hearing Gangsters (The Specials) I was hooked. Madness and The Beat soon followed, then The Selecter and The Bodysnatchers. Being just a pre-teen, the energy which flowed from the upbeat and off beat rhythm excited me and got me moving like no other music had. The further descent into Ska started through recording songs off the radio (trying to cut off the presenters voice) until I could afford to buy the real thing.
Soon, my bedroom looked like it had been attacked by the black and white monster, with posters on the wall and album covers strewn across the floor. The flowery quilt my mother had bought me was soon the only thing left with any colour.
It extended from there to my body when I managed to persuade the parents to buy me a black Harrington jacket. Madness Man proudly filled the back and Specials patches the front. Walt Jabsco became the stock item of my doodles.
Of course, once the Ska collection had been filled, Bob Marley came onto the radar, closely followed by John Peel playing Eek A Mouse.
Since the arrival of the internet (yes, I remember those days) finding music has become much easier. Music sites like Bandcamp makes it easy for bands to put out their music and for fans to find it. Now most additions to my collection comes through this site, as the bands get the greatest returns, before that iTunes (but, let be honest, it’s rubbish).
Now at 50+, my collection of music just had to be shared. I now host a Ska & Reggae Show on my local Community Radio Station, CandoFM 106.3 (Barrow In Furness) and The Sound Of Spitfire (Spalding) hoping to inspire a few more people to make these two genres their own obsession.
As Bob Marley said, “One good thing about music is, when it hits you, you feel OK”.
I hope that’s enough!
Why Am I Catflea Massacre?
Catflea Massacre was born from a day of an intense holocaust. The origins of the name came from an incident created by a flat mate (at the time) who brought two kittens into our hovel. Within days it was found that an infestation of fleas was taking place. In an afternoon, when rising from the bed, a sea of fleas would jump onto exposed skin and try to eat you alive. You can only live with that for so long and as the creator of the situation refused to tackle the problem, things had to be taken into our own hands.
With meagre incomes, the remaining four flat mates went out and bought two cans of flea spray. Starting at the bottom of the house, methodically we worked our way up three flights, spraying everything as we went, finishing in the room which housed the kittens. After a short scuffle, the flea ridden flatmate and his girlfriend were pinned and sprayed.
We sat back to review the afternoons shenanigans and it became apparent that not only had all the fleas disappeared, but each window sill was filled with the corpses of other insects. “It looks like a holocaust has taken place in here… a catflea massacre”.
With a gig lined up for that evening, no name and a very dodgy solo set, I liked the description… and stole it.
Since then, the effects of eight cans of flea spray and the relatively confined area of the war zone has slowly had an impact on the cognitive behaviour of Catflea Massacre. My obsession with Pork Pies and Custard (not in the same bowl yet) is only mirrored by that of Ska and Reggae.