Being in between. Hearing crickets call. The insecurity of not knowing what the response might be. But also the artistic permanence of the statement. And the peace.
'To boldly go where no blog has gone before....
Being in between. Hearing crickets call. The insecurity of not knowing what the response might be. But also the artistic permanence of the statement. And the peace.
I'm sitting in my living room listening to Heron's second album Twice as Nice & Half the Price. It's a double. It came out in 1972 on Decca Reccords.. It's the definition of Pastoral charm and carried me back to my own childhood in the Seventies.Visits to Grandparents in Dorset and Sussex.
My Grandmother on my mother's side retired to a Cul De Sac bungalow in Eastbourne in the early Seventies. . My grandfather had died just before she moved there and she went on with life as well as she could for twenty years before she herself passed in the early nineties. .Though she must have been terribly lonely sometimes. My mother called her every day. I keep the tradition alive and call mum daily to see how she is keeping. Half five on the dot.
I have special memories of visiting my grandmother. Her succession of labrador companions. We used to walk them in the neighbouring avenues. Drive them up to the Sussex downs early in the morning with rabbits scuttling across the road into the ditches at our approach with the labrador bounding up and straining and frothing against the window.
Penguin Chocolate Biscuits. The different colours . My Uncle's model cars and aeroplanes, kept in the back bedroom in the cupboards. A memorial sabre sword displayed above the mantelpiece. The Moscow Olympics which we watched together. Steve Ovett. Sebastian Coe. Athletes from the Eastern Bloc trailing in their wake. The arrival of my Uncle Malcolm and Aunt Linda and their bounding red setters and their newborn arrival Alexander.
My mother held Alexander in her arms and I asked her 'Would you swap places.'She said 'Yes I would.' But almost fify years on I wouldn't. I wouldn't swop places with anybody. I think it's important to be happy with where you are and who you are. What you are.
Records like Twice as Nice & Half the Price help me feel this way. It's an ordinary record. Ram light. But it's its ordinariness is extraordinary. Comforting
It's the lead review in the current issue of Idler magazine. There's a picture of John Lennon and Paul McCartney from their Beatles peak on the cover. Idler is a magazine for people like me. Of a certain age and disposition..
That's exactly what Twice as Nice & Half the Price is. Music for people like me. People who want to live in the moment and enjoy their day. This was recorded at a farm in Devon.. Listening to this you feel like you are there. Transported to exist in the moment.
What a day ! I'll spare you the gory details. As my friend David puts it. 'Some days are out to get you.' And then you come to rest. It's not quite as bad as it seems. And then you put Yo La Tengo on knowing it's a double album and you have nothing to do but listen to all four sides and it all seems that much better as the evening stretches ahead of you. Yo La Tengo are a hipsters treat !
I think I'm going back. Got to keep going back. For surely that is how to best go forwaed. Try to pit one foot in fromt of the other. Walk the straight path. This morning Leaf Hound. Listed on Wikipedia as Heavy Metal, Hard Rock, Stoner Rock, Psychedelic Rock. Call it what you will. I know what Billy Joel would say....
The band's name comes from a Ray Bradbury short story anbout a dog that came back from the dead covered in leaves. I'm listening to Growers of Mushroom which was iriginally entitled Leaf Hound. It was relased in 1970 then rereleased in 1971 as Growers of Mushroom with additional tracks. It's so of its time that you're transported back there immediately on listening to it.
The Seventies is a foreign country. They do things differently there, If you don't believe me take a listen to The Roches self titled album. Released in 1979. An album like this could not and would not be made now. Or ever again frankly. It exists in a different light and space..
Tyler Ballgame's is a Berklee College Music dropout. He dusted himself down and For The First Time his debut album is just out, It's an easy going amiable genre hopping.record that could probably have slotted in comfortably on Seventies AOR radio,
It's clear the man has done his ground work,. There's plenty of swoon and shiver here. A touch if the old west Perhaps sometimes a bit close to pastiche for comfort. but it has some lovely oranges on the cover and gets a thumbs up from here.
I have a seat at a desk where I write these blog entries and stare down at the pavement opposite me. Watch the people come and go. The record player is spinning and I'm listening to Court & Spark as I make my way through my day. The Roland Garros French Open is on and Court & Spark spins like an absorbing rally between Vilas and Borg back in the day.
God descends on It Starts With a Birthstone. Well Pentecost is fast approaching. And as all Germans know. Pentecost. means. A day off work! . So here comes Sister Irene O'Connor with her acoustic guitar,
Fire of God is a weird collection of Folk Spirituals from 1973 with echoes of Vashti Bunyan and Space Lady. It's playing on my television set as I make my way through my morning. It's all really rather lovely
The song remains the same. Kurt Vile remains on his porch in Philadelphia churning out product. If ut was that easy folks, you'd be doing it His latest album is Philapelphia's been good to me. It sounds to me as if the man pays his dues.
I bought this when it came out in 1986 and listened to it a lot. I was going through an incredible phase in my life. I was 21 and terribly sick and so was my older sister. I went into recovery. I couldn't open jars or peel potatoes or open windows I looked weird. I lost confidence, I almost had hallucinations when I drank too much and it reacted ro the strong medication I was taking. It took me years to fully 'get back',
I was constantly drenched in sweat. I wrote poems about living in an elephant's skin We were in a house with my parents and my sister. My sister meanwhile died. She went to the hospice. We brought her home my mother tended her and she died. My mother went up one evening. We were watching television in the living room.
My mother came downstairs said Sarah was dead and the four of us went upstairs held hands at the foot of the bed and said goodbye to our darling Sarah. The experience changed me and has been something I and all of us have been coming to terms with ever since. But forty years later I'm alive and happy. I don't believe in living in the past and the one thing I absolutely know is that Sarah would not have wanted us to be unhappy. So I'm determined to honour her wishes
And all the time through those years I was listening to this jagged, uncompromising record and not knowing really what I felt about it except that I liked ir. I'm listening to it now, I still like it. It was given incredible reviews. The band were compared to Joy Division and The Birthday Party. Kirsten Hersh the Throwing Muses leader had been knocked off her bike and her skull had been fractured in three places when the band were coming together at High School which skewed their happy go lucky trajectory and made them Sylvia Plath's for the mid Eighties alternative set.
It's still an incredibly powerful album. There's self harm and threat in most songs. It's still not an album a mother would want to come into a room and hear her little darling listening to. There aren't conventional verse chorus structures. Or lyrics. Each song seems to have gear changes every fifteen seconds or so.. It's not the stuff of mass acceptance. A record destined for the margins though of course it gets Mojo retrospectives. A display in the Unorthodox Hall of Fame
It's melodic, colorful but self consciously unsettling. Disturbing and deceptive. Demanding further listening. I've been listening for forty years and I'm not quite sure what I think yet. The mark of a great record.
I went into the record shop across the road from me yesterday morning and saw the latest Board of Canada album in the front of the rack of new releases going for a cool 40 quid. Lumme. I remember buying freshly released records for a fiver or so. Back in the day. I suspect I'll never own it, But I'm listening to it now as the sun sets and imagine I'll probably listen to it on a regular basis. All year and beyond. Because frankly it's a completely staggering achievement. .
Now the sun is up, it's Sunday morning and I'm listening to it again. It has heft and gravitas. It feels like a document for our time. It's the Scittish duo s first album for 13 years and I imagine I'll be playing it on loop..Record reviews hint at the great themes; the occult, doomsday, climate collapse, melancholy, depression, mourning, grief, economic, political, cultural upheaval. Same as it ever was.
The Manson family read all kinds of similar things into Beatles songs and it led them to do monstrous things. Perhaps they should have just stayed at home and listened to and appreciated the music. . Inferno should be played as a suite. Then on a loop. That's what I'll be doing.
Blue is a versatile word. Dependent on its comtexy. This is an extraordinary song. About Joni's upheaval from the end of her relationship with James Taylor. Sometimes you need to resist the temptation to listen to the whole album and just listen to the same song again and feel its weight and wonder..
This was the first Clash album I bought. I got it soon after it came out. I liked it. I liked The Clash and I still do. I never bought into the rhetoric or inderstood why they didn't want to go on Top Of The Pops. but liked the tunes. I still like the tunes and the lyrics. It felt like something was coming to an end.
I have a friend who they took on the road when he was 15. It formed him I imagine. I have anither friend who swears by them but wrote this to me recently. 'It doesn't matter what people in their 50s and 60s think fifty years after the fact. They were important in their time but now it's just background music' I've turned the record over and I'm listening to Know Your Rights. It still seems to speak to me. .
'They line their pockets with our souls.......'
It's difficult not to blink sometimes . Sometimes I'd say it's best to try not to. It's Friday morning. At the end of May. It's my sister's birthday. I imagine she'll be rising and will take her Bulgarian rescue dog for a walk at some point today. Across woods and sunlit meadows of bluebells, primroses. and the like My brother is rising in Galicia with his wife. Making their way up steep slopes. It's hot as blazes he tells us. We're all walking up steep slopes aren't we? It's the only way we know
My mother will stir and go down to prepare my father some breakfast. .Fix a tray with corn flakes, raspberries, yoghurt, toast and a cup of tea. Just how dad likes it..Run her bath, dress and descend to the living room to do her sudoku and crosswords. Classic FM. Everywhere people are rising. Heading into their day, The world turns. The weekend is coming
I run my bath and dress, I look in the t shirt drawer and find a Jane Birkin t shirt Alison gave me for a birthday many years ago. Jane Birkin isn't with us an more but the t shirt still is and I put it on. It will do me for today, It's appropriate.
I've got Alena Diane's new album Who's Keeping Time playing on my television. On my television You see what I mean about not blinking, It's called Who's Keeping Time? Who Knows Where the Time Goes ! Ir's a lovely record. With a sleeve adorned with images of Alela surrounded by a gathering of geese clustered around a dining table on a prairie. Little Table on the Prairie,.
I teach my first class. Dennis, Julianne, Beheshata. Clinical Professionals heading into their own days but making a window for English. We talk about implants and why the body rejects them. Stones in our internal organs and what we can do about them. Broken bones and our experience of them comes up. One to Ones with our line managers and how best to approach them. How to best demand appreciation and ensure commensurate recompensation for our labour. Not being taken for granted. What we have looking forward to at the weekend.
In Beheshta's case this means a drive to Rotterdam to a wedding tomorrow. A stay in a hotel and then a quick look around Antwerp. A drive back to the Ruhr Gebeit and a baby shower with friends on Sunday. Fitting in a bit of life before work starts again on Monday morning. All the while the stones keep stirring in our inner organs. The blood keeps flowing between our arteries.
I have some downtime between classes so I send off powerpoints for my classes and fix myself more tea. Boil an egg, I fancy a change from Alela so I put Soft Machine's Third on my turntable and the stylus clicks into its groove and my flat fills with light and cool burbling, meandering Hippy Jazz sound.
I've been entranced with this magical record for a few weeks. I saw a vinyl copy at one of the record stores around the corner from me where the price of the vinyl copy of this in their racks had dropped from £39 to £29 so I saw my chance, made my move and bought a copy. It already sounds like a good investment for my sixties.. A long term downpayment that should pay back in terms of stillness and space.
Onto Class Two. Olli and Stefan. Insurance professionals. Tuning in from Dussledorf and Nuremberg. We always laugh. There's time for football, family and fun. .Chat about cheese..I have a quiz on cheese prepared. This doesn't happen entirely by accident. We debate who would win the World Cup of Cheese Why does Emmental have holes. Olli and Stefan read an article to find out. Spoiler. It's the flecks in the hay folks.
The conversation meanders back to 1970. A podcast I'm engrossed in about a World Cup related Conspiracy from when I was five and in Zimbabwe and my sister was just a baby Gordon Banks drank a beer in a bar in Mexico a few days before a World Cup Quarter Final against West Germany. And was struck down with tummy trouble and missed the match which England lost,. The podcast posits that it was all a CIA related plot. There's no end to the mystery and wonder in life. Why bother doomscrolling about the here and now. Being right wing . Being scared or angry. Blaming someone else..
Onward from Srefan and Olli to Pierre. A Broker Manager from the same organisation with a great Wes Anderson look.. Charming and kind. Just turned 50. He tells me about his weekend in Holland with his mum, brother and their kids. We talk about erm football again. Where will Cologne's finest prospect Mala go in the summer. Brentford possibly.
Should my team Newcastle make their move. They've just lost Anthony Gordon to Barcelona not Bayern. Much to Olli and now Pierre's amusement. Then we talk about how he can find the word he needs when he needs it in business contexts when talking to Poles or Indians about contract and brokerage stuff. We develop a strategy which I follow up after the lesson. This doesn't feel like work.
Soft Machine have taken the place of Alela as my ongoing soundtrack as my Friday turns its attention to the afternoon. I'm in a trance for Part Four of my Friday online odyssey. The ideal state for Marina. My Friday afternoon Extemadura Angel. In Amsterdam working for a bank but always Extemadura essentially. There's never, ever a dull moment with Marina.
She's charm and intelligence personified. We're training her up to be CEO within the year. She confides at a certain point this afternoon that she doesn't actually want to be CEO but she certainly gets my vote if she ever needs it. We have the dreaded Internet is down panic midway through. That hasn't happened to me for a while. We reconnect. There are fifteen minutes left before the weekend lands.
So we get to the heart of the matter. That's what Graham Green would do. You can get to this point after four pints on a Friday night with a mate if you choose but in my experience it's far better at four on a Friday afternoon with a canny operator like Marina who knows what she's talking about. .Does Love exist? Does the Soul?
From Marina's perspective the idea of a Soul is ludicrous. It's something we want to believe in but it's actually a huge red herring. Wishful thinking. .Like Lloyd Cole though, Marina believes in love. There's been persuasive scientific research she says. She's persuaded. It's nice to hear. A good time to wish each other a happy weekend. Next week we'll discuss Atomic Habits further and delve into the Third Conditional. Anyway I need to go to Rosie's and find out who I've got in The World Cup Sweepstakes. These things are important.. Fellowship. Banter. A fiver.
I make my way up the slope from my flat. Turn into Stowell Street. Newcastle's Chinatown. Millie is perched in his place at the end of the bar. Where he belongs.. I've got Belgium. He's got Mexico. No chance for either of us. Neither Belgium nor Mexico have ever reached the World Cup Final never mind won the bloody thing and paraded round the pitch kissing the golden trophy and blowing kisses to the crowd. That's for France, Brazil, Germany, Spain and Argentina.
Millie and I. Like Belgium and Mexico are content to be supporting players. In the chorus. Halfway down the final credits. I ask Millie if he's got a tab and his eyebrows head for the ceiling. 'You'll be the death of me.' 'Not too soon I hope Millie.' I thank him and head for the exit, Get back to the flat. Put Soft Machine on again while I smoke my tab. Call Mum at half five as I always do.
She tells me of her cleaning lady Linda's latest travelling drama. Coming home from Majorca the flight was delayed. A passenger was taken off the flight.. Charged with murder in Majorca. Where is Morse when you need him? Perhaps Nigel Farage who Linda feels is the bees knees is the answer. I doubt it personally. That guys a spiv. Private Walker.
I say goodbye to mum. She's going to a birthday party tomorrow. Makes a change from funerals. I go upstairs collapse on the bed. Wake up at nine and make a cup of tea. Alison has had a good day. She's having a barbecue. There are parakeets flying over her lawn. She likes the Bowie book I've sent her. I go to bed.
Now it's Saturday morning. I'm listening to Who's Keeping Time again. I commend it to you. Time to head into the new day. Somewhere the geese are flying .
Icelandic freewheeling hippy psychedelia from 1972. It's only natural that records like this exist.. But it's a magical experience being directed to them.
I can't think of a record that brings me so immediately and powerfully back to the teenage unwashed state which I experienced with such a thrill as X Ray Spex' Germfree Adolescent. I'm back in Richmond High Street. Stepping iff the 71 making my way home passed Woolworth's hormones running amok. The record's just a blast and an ummatchable document. The rush of it all. It's brimming with the lunacy and riotous noise of puberty.. And the ideas on the album are as startling and vital as they ever were.
Shocking ! And not in the Hitchcock as in the classic dig your nails diwn your boyfriend's palm sense. But in the this is really, really piss poor car crash respect. The Cure meets Bauhaus meets the worst of The Scream OSTs. Go back to Drama School lads. Do not pass go. Ever again !!!
I liked Little Barrie's albim from last year Electric War. I like Gravity Freeze from now. It's full of funky bass runs. Drummers getting wicked. Crossing the tracks. We got to get back !
Some artists like a fine wine improve with time. Like the finest wine. Only Ones are such a band for me. They're deceptive. 'In the darkness and in the light' Fluidity savagery and tenderness. In equal measure. Sadness and somehow against the odds, survival. The tough streets of Catford and from there the tough streets of London. And off. To explore the world,
I only encountered them at university. Obviously that song. The one they're most remembered for but only one in a casket of priceless jewels. I tracked them all down in time. You had to work a bit harder then. But the search was richly rewarded.
Even Serpents Shine is nit Marquee Moon. But only Marquee Moon is Marquee Moon, This is a crafty cousin with dirty fingernails but a wicked grin. It diesn't play by Pink's rukes but Baudelaure's. It lifts licks from the Stones when it chooses but is a far far better record than anything The Stones were putting out at this point of time. It's Poet Maudit for the late Seventies set nd those that came thereafter. Just ask Pete Doherty.