- Interview by IG
- AWOL - Whatever Happened To... Cud?
- Where Are They Now? from Q Magazine
- Rock'N'Roll Parts One & Two Melody Maker, October 26 1991 by Dave Simpson
- Rock'N'Roll Parts One & Two March 1992 by Cathi Unsworth
- Hits and Missiles, Melody Maker June 29 1991 by Dave Jennings
- Baize Of Glory by Ian T. Tilton
- by Stephen Dalton
- Mr. & Mrs on Carl Puttnam & Ruth Proctor
- Q&A with Carl Puttnam, NME
"WE normally only do stuff our bass player doesn't like, He's barometer."
Cud are on the cusp. Archetypal scruffy Peel sessionists, you would think, they resent the idea deeply. The world is their oyster they cry! Their sights are aimed higher than indie thrash! And to emphasise this, they've released a rock opera, "When In Rome, Kill Me".
"It's sort of a story about a man who goes to Rome", says singer Carl Puttnam. "He doesn't know if he'll come back, and he goes there to meet someone, or something, and he meets a girl, and she goes, and he goes to prison. But we want to leave it open-ended Like, Julius Caesar knew he might die in Rome, so does John, that's our bloke. John."
Okay. For now, Cud's wish to stage the show remains a pipedream. They had one home town performance, at Leeds Warehouse, with "fire, snow and acting". But success wasn't to be. "The snow never turned up and this chap Jeff Farrell, who's the drummer's landlord and the bond's accountant, played the hero, but he got drunk and kept walking off, and forgot his lines. The crowd had to help 'im."
Well, that's showbiz. Mr Farrell seems pretty bound up in Cud's fortunes, his shiny red face also gracing the cover of "When In Rome. . " Half the LP tells the sad Roman adventures of John, the other is more trad Cud faves like "I've Had It With Blondes" and "Wobbly Jelly!" A bit trivial, you'd think. But guitarist Mike Dunphy, spurns this notion.
"We wont to get away form being a more garage bond - awkward, insular, jagged, all those things you called us when you saw us. We like ambiguity. It doesn't mean we can't be profound We can be pissed off and funny at the some time. Like, satire is the greatest form of wit. We need more of it. When you read people like Pope..."
The phone crackles. Did you say Poe? Or Pope?
"Pope." A pause. A triumphant flourish. "That's the trouble with music now! Too much Poe and not enough Pope!"
Clever lad. The smart Cud say they're epicureans, and plan over the next few weeks to play a Doncaster school a Leeds mental home, the Shetlands and Poland. Not Rome. But they'll kill you anyway.