Music Created Playlists

Straddling the line between reality and fiction are The Moonlandingz. A formidable crew broken down into Dean Honer (Axe) Adrian Flanagan (Pistol) Lias Saoudi (Codpiece) & Mairead O’Connor (Sword),

You may be thinking that you recognise this formidable crew? Well perhaps you do. Last year saw The Eccentronic Research Council release their record Johnny Rocket, Narcissist & Music Machine… I’m Your Biggest Fan, which was narrated by the fictional stalker (voiced by Maine Peake) of a fictional musician in a fictional band in the fictional northern town of Valhalla Dale. That fictitious band was The Moonlandingz, and now the band have broken through the the fourth wall, leaving the sprawling green hills of Valhalla Dale and entering reality.

Headed by the mysterious and charismatic Johnny Rocket (aka Fat White Family’s Lias Saoudi), the band are set to release their debut record, Interplanetary Class Classics, in March next year. Here, the band curate their own festive mixtape titled YES, WE TOO WERE BORN IN A BARN, alongside a tale of Christmas Day dread and despair. Think of it as a yule time agony aunt, or perhaps the ghost of Christmas dissent.

Gallery: The Moonlandingz live at The Courtyard. Photography by Sean Carpenter




Death May be your Santa Claus by Second Hand
“Being ‘balls deep in music’ you spend most of the year in what resembles hell’s very own, time stretched party. You’re either travelling about in a fifteen foot tin can in close proximity to your agitated dysfunctional ‘step family’, or you’re at a venue in some grotty dressing room, surrounded by alcohol with random strangers thrusting all sorts of poison and body parts at you, in exchange for just a tiny bit of your ‘devine wisdom & earth shattering charm!’

By Christmas time you are sick to fucking death of people, you’ve already got liver damage, gout and a borderline drug problem, but now it’s Christmas and your being invited to everyone else’s parties and you’re expected to look great and behave badly, because that’s what it says you do on your press release – and because you are a dick….you oblige.

So with the ice of winter breathing down your neck and what feels like pneumonia lurking at the back of your throat, you reach for that shiny dainty waistcoat at the back of the wardrobe, put on some yellow pantaloons and your dead uncle’s hideous winkle-picker shoes from 1965, you look in the mirror and you tilt your hat to one side like Michael Jackson – and with a post MDMA semi-on, you leave the house. Due to the insane chemical imbalance in your cranium, you think you look the dog’s bollocks, but in fact, you look like some recurring childhood nightmare of Mr Claypole from Rentaghost at some indie disco in Derby… Or in short, a massive twat.”

Cheese and Onions by The Rutles
“As you get older, the parties you get invited to get more civilised. You get invited to fancy cheese and wine parties. Now, I know fuck all about cheese & wine really but people get really competitive at these kind of parties, they bring cheeses that have been made by monks and now you’ve some cheese connoisseur prodding you in the chest going, “come on Adrian, try this, it’s delicious!” My contribution to the party was some dairylea triangles, some kraft cheese slices, some cheese straws from Greggs and a packet of cheese and onion crisps , I called it a ‘Salford cheese board’… People were Instagram-ing the fuck out of it.”

Party Machine by Bruce Haack
“With a sickly cheese gullet drenched in wine, the amiable hosts suggest we all play a party game and everyone in the room, but me, goes “WOOO!” However, NOTHING makes me feel more like I’m being sent to a death camp for incurable artists than the token party game. You tell them you don’t want to join in and that you’re happy just sitting it out, but everyone just looks at you like your scum, a kill joy, a misery. “Come on, join in, it’s just a bit of fun,” they say whilst sitting there asking each other who they are, with a post-it note stuck to their forehead with ‘Adolf Hitler’ written on it. Just a bit of fun they say..”

I’m Happy by The Ivor Cutler Trio
“I breathe a sigh of relief when the games are over, but things go from bad to worse when someone puts Pharrell Williams’ Happy Song on the stereo. Like some kind of horrible nightmare people start dancing around me and pull at me to get up and dance with them… Naturally, I make an excuse about having a ganglion the size of a mouse on my foot, but these people – obviously susceptible to suggestion – are indeed happy, insanely so, but why is it that all I want to do is cut my fingers off and ram them down my ear holes to block out the sound of this chirpy faux-soul ad nauseam?!”

You Never Knew Me by Magazine
“I make a swift escape to the kitchen, pour myself a pint of wine and consider killing myself… When out of nowhere, appearing like an angel in reverse, I’m cornered by the most annoying, monotone man on Earth. He works in telesales, but always fancied himself as a singer in a band. He then spends the next hour telling me what he thinks I should do to get on in the ‘music game’ and how we need to get some fancy clothes, a nice showbiz tan and a good dentist… Oh and we must do some cover versions. As unbeknown to him, one of my songs plays in the background on the kitchen radio!”

(Stay Away From) The Cocaine Train by Johnny Paycheck
“I manage to get one word in edgeways and make a dash for the toilet, Monotone Man’s parting shot to me is to wrongly quote Arnold Schwarzenegger by saying in a mock deep European voice “You’ll be back!”I half cock a smile and head upstairs where there’s a gormless, yet pretty girl waiting on the landing outside the toilet door. She offers me a dab of some undisclosed powder, I decline, stating I’d “already done my washing earlier that day.” But the joke is as wasted on her, as she is wasted. People on coke may think they are giving you some kind of ‘masterclass in gobshittery’ but look deep in to their eyes and you will see their hearts bleeding. Which is a strong look.”

Ca’ n’arrive qu’ aux autres by Michael Polnareff
“Coming out of the toilet, I see a low light coming from a half opened bedroom door, I pop my head round hoping maybe a small gathering of party goers are discussing literature or holding a seance, trying to find anything that resembles life at this party. All I got was the sight of a mate’s naked arse going up down, with someone who wasn’t his girlfriend tutting underneath him, feigning pleasure like a slightly wet polo mint, being toyed at by a half dead gnat.”

Rockers Dub by Rockers All stars
“Meanwhile, back down stairs, the air is filled with the aroma of a reefer being passed around and obviously, being slightly patronising middle class white people with not much musical knowledge, or taste, someone puts on Bob Marley. The conversation is peppered with the occasional drawled “yeahhh mannn” and “yeahhhh blud,” all that’s missing is for Jim Davidson to pop his head up from behind the couch and do his ‘chalky voice.’

Milk Man by Aphex Twin
“Just when things start becoming a bit more relaxed, some utter dick thinks it’s funny to put on Wham’s Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go. By the first jitterbug everyone’s up dancing like stoned, wonky limbed, fuck zombies, by the second jitterbug (in my mind) I’m driving a broken wine bottle in to the aural assassin’s eye socket, causing mass fainting and hysteria on the living room carpet and something akin to a Jackson pollock painting, in blood, on the wall. All I want to do is get home, take some Rennie’s and drink some milk!”

Goodnight Ladies by Lou Reed
“I hate parties, I hate Christmas, I probably hate you…..good night Ladies!!”

Black Hanz by The Moonlandingz
“Ahhh back home, safe and warm in my narcissistic womb, not a sign of tinsel in sight, listening to the greatest band ‘off the planet’, glass of milk by lamp light, log on, nob out..bliss!!!!”

The Moonlandingz by Chris Saunders.