In fact, we at the Pitch were so inspired by Hard-Fi's desperate, pub-smashing sound on its debut record, Stars of CCTV, that we picked up a selection of British beers from World Market in Westport and set about re-discovering Britrock through the woozy goggles of UK ale. Here's what we blaaarp found.
McEwan's India Pale Ale: Scottish, but drunk widely throughout the UK, no doubt by many fans of late-'80s drugged-out hooligans the Happy Mondays, who thrashed through a brief career in spastic dance-rock like autistic kids in a psychotropic drug-test lab. This ale is bitter and earthy, and its label boasts a smarmy Scarlet Pimpernel cunt who's grinning like he wants to bugger your little sister.
Newcastle Brown Ale: Popular, yes, but also indispensably comforting. It's mellow, smooth and hoppy a great ale for relaxin' with your mates and getting extremely emotional over a Man United football game on telly. This toast is to Elbow, purveyors of glorious, cry-on-shoulder Britpop anthems massive enough to fill a cathedral but down-to-earth enough to justify murdering another bag of crisps ... and having another pint.
Samuel Smith's Famous Taddy Porter: This one comes with posh gold foil around the cap, but its label's square as hell. Hmm ... posh but square. Hullo, Elton! Wait, let's try it blech! This dark, opaque concoction tastes like Thames water mixed with coffee, licorice and cack. This is a drink for dirty old men, so we spill it out to the venerable Ian Dury, that misshapen, Cockney-cabbielike pub rocker and disco king who sang about pinching pornos and getting hit with rhythm sticks.
St. Peter's English Ale: Arriving in a formidable, flask-shaped bottle and made from organic hops and barley, this scrumptious, clean-tasting brown is like Newcastle with an Oxford degree. In fact, it's downright holy. Joe Strummer, cheers to you, mate.
Guinness Pub Draught: We haven't toasted any birds yet, so we'll hoist a glass of this famous Irish stout to Polly Jean Harvey, who seems like the perfect perturbed, disapproving, ball-breaking female to stand in for dear old mum on our next pub crawl.
Samuel Smith's Nut Brown Ale: After the first Sammy Smith tasted like cock, we have no interest in this one at all. Well, maybe a little. It is beer, after all. Actually, no. Hell, no. Sod off. (This one's for Morrissey, who approaches sex the exact same way.)
Bass & Co. Pale Ale: Fuck it, we're pissed. Let's just slam this back and listen to some more Hard-Fi: Go to the cash MACHEEN mna mna na na Yeah, rock and roll!!!