all things blurt!

New Musical Express, 23rd august 1980

"Let's make this interview fast!" says Ted.
"Okay," I say, puzzled.
"I mean really fast!!"
"Okay, okay!" What does he mean?
"I mean, you fire the questions and we'll answer them at lightning speed. Then we can have this whole thing over in about ten minutes."
But where? As we're in Islington, how about doing it on the Green?
"Oh alright" says Ted.

So off we go to the small oasis of grass and greenery in the middle of a busy high road, where all of us congregate around a monument to the fallen, presumably dead. All of us being me, Ted as in Milton the poet, Jake as in drummer and Ted's brother, Pete Creese as in guitarist and lumbering lunkhead. Together they constitute Blurt.
"That's BLEUR-URGHT!"says Ted emphatically while approximating the actions of a drunk throwing up. "BLEUR-URGHTI"



But who are Blurt and why am I letting them embarrass me? Despite an attack of acute self -consciousness. I attempt a short sharp question which dribbles limply out as: Er, who are you, how about some background?
The response comes back in a drawled staccato - he's contrary is Ted, but at least we're underway.

"Well, em-eh-oh-ah-ah-you see. Ehm. Po... poetry! Poetry through boredom, right? Then frustration. Tore up the poems." He grimaces in grotesque facial mime of his words. "Invented papier mache with spit additives and built puppet show from torn up poems. And subsequently the puppets couldn't take it any longer. Or. . . "there's a frightful pause, before he brings the next bit in," the public couldn't take it any longer..."

Which is as good a point as any to get serious for a moment, to try and throw some light on this thing called Blurt.