Yippee Kay Aye, Wolfmother

So two of the Wolfmother trio have abandoned the band’s new album due to “longstanding frictions”. It was a few months ago that I first heard the rumours that their second album had encountered difficulties that weren’t your usual second album syndrome – i.e anything involving drug intake, tour burnout or an over-produced string-section-led new direction.

Nope, I’d heard the reasons it was taking so long were that the other two just fucking hated their frontman, his ego reflecting his afro – growing and growing and growing – until the other two saw returning back to Oz obscurity as a bewildering better option, with touring the world, playing massive shows and having their winkles serviced whenever they want soured by having to share it with a twat.

A shame really, as once you were past the aren’t-they-literally-copying-what-Jet-do introduction (the retro-riff-nickin’, iTunes ad-hijacking, Dave Sardy-produced debut road to success), they were actually a thrilling, ridiculously entertaining band, their OTT psychedelic swampiness sounding a bit like Muse if they were the

Natural
History
Museum’s house band.

In a sign that Stockdale’s ego needs bigger dents than his two cohorts flipping him the bird to damage it, he’s vowed to get new musicians in and carry on under the moniker Wolfmother, which is only one step away from the time 2Unlimited resurfaced with their original two members replaced by newbies hoping no-one would notice. I mean, what makes him think that touring the world, playing massive shows and having your gentleman serviced whenever you want is worth hanging round with a twat like him?

Umm. 
 

Andrew – give me a call, I’m in.