Eight Up & Passed Out
The amazing story of Gordon Moir and George Paterson - DMP- began in Mexico city many years ago. A chance encounter in a service elevator between dog juggler/stripper Lolita Hershowitz and eminent psycho analyst Prof. Gunther Moir, led to baby Gordon arriving a mere four months later. The prodigiously talented child was hailed as a phenomenon in his native South America, single handedly helping Peru join the "space race", starring in a successful cartoon series "Donde es mio Galena?" and playing golf with a single figure handicap. A couple of years later, Gordons' identical twin George, was born to émigré peach farmers on the floor of Nardinis ice cream parlour in Largs, Scotland. It is believed that a second quart of the mint chocolate chip special sent the rather big boned, expectant mother into labour. As the family could not afford a mid wife, baby George was successfully removed from the womb by Moira the vendor with the aid of a large ice cream scooper. This gave George an egg shaped head, which for years was hidden under a helmet of hair. The genesis of DMP however, can be traced to the moment young Gordon was given a toy guitar at a new year party at the home of legendary flamenco artist and jockey, Paco de Rabanne. Within hours the prodigy had mastered the rudimentary instrument, learned the complete works of Hank Williams and in the process invented augmented chords. His new found passion came at a price however. Dropped from his Disney contract and his US PGA card withdrawn, to the great shame of his parents, the boy genius was ostracised and sent into exile. Forced to work the diamond mines of Govan from the age of four, young George found solace in the songs he heard on an old wireless set given to him by his maternal grandfather Phyllis. One night, he was sent to locate his father in the rough taverns of the locale. Finding the pater familias in a tired and emotional state, young George was asked to sing his fathers favourite song. As the sound of "Yes Sir , I Can Boogie" emanated from this dirty cherub, a crowd gathered and began to throw money at the boy. "More!" they demanded and the boy obliged. At the end of the night he had made over £400, which his father took back into the railway arms for safekeeping. Over the next few years, young George made enough money to buy a small Bulgarian city. Which is exactly what happened. But it wasn't enough. George wanted to sing his own songs and as his family were now overlords of Gorna Banja there was nothing to keep him from the big city...... Unlike Gordon, George had none of the social skills afforded to the privileged. Whereas Gordon earned a Michelin star for his "pain au buerre" George liked nothing more than licking the windows of his local chip shop. The big city, however, is a great leveller and soon George ran out of smoky bacon crisps and was jailed on a vagrancy charge. Gordon too had his collar felt after breaking the skull of a pianist who claimed that anyone could split an atom. In this tiny dank cell, the evolution of popular music as we know it today began. The groundbreaking 1999 debut "D'ya get it?" spawned 10 worldwide hits and was credited with securing peace in Northern Ireland. This was followed in 2000 by "It's About Time" another hit filled album that was taken by NASA as the first disc to be played on Saturn. This surprised DMP as there appears to be no electrical supply readily available on the red planet not to mention the lack of decent retailers. There were even rumours (unconfirmed) of a tenth planet to be named after the band. "Natural Anthems" in 2001 was reckoned to be on a par with the Beatles "White Album". No one got that either. September 2003 brought the latest instalment of the DMP saga with the release of "St Jude and the Wilderness years" which contains the universal smash "(Here comes the) Weekend" which co-incides with their first world tour of west central London. Once again DMP continue to surprise, excite, appal and delight in equal measures. What next? A collection of 15th century Spanish hymns? Death metal nose flutes of the Andes? Who knows...just sit back and enjoy the ride!