What I Did Yesterday - Reposts for 2025 # 2 Parastatic - Star & Shadow

 

                 'a quarrel in a far off country. Between people of whom we know nothing.' 

Neville Chamberlain 1938. Prime Minister of the United Kingdom at the time. To describe the brewing conflict between Germany and Czechoslovakia. Now the Czech Republic and Slovakia.

'I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore !' Lots of highly stressed American Citizens. Network, 1976 

* this is seriously long and probably rambling piece. So prepare yourself or don't bother. There's plenty of more interesting and better stuff to read. By contrast with other pieces like this that I've written on here, much of this was actually written on the day I'm writing about. You know. Like a diary ! I'll try to follow that way of doing things for future gigs I go to and write about on here. I've got any number coming up in the next few weeks and months.

We live in extraordinary times. There seems to be no avoiding that. Early on Friday evening I woke from the sofa after a long day teaching online and doing paperwork. I went over to my laptop, turned to the news and prompted by that watched probably the most remarkable TV I've ever seen. A clip with eerie reminders of the living past.

A Ukranian president visiting the White House in search for a peace deal for a war torn and vast land. To be met by an American president and vice president who proceeded to enact an odd tag wrestling ritual. One setting the other up to slam dunk their bewildered guest. All the while demanding that he say 'Thank You' for what they were doing to him and his homeland while he attempted to keep his temper and maintain a feasible future for his country. 

After a bit of anguished back and forth he proceeded  to rush to his waiting car and head back to the airport and from there to London. A President and remarkably his host shouting after him 'Come back, when you're ready for peace !'  Before he left, he asked what seemed to me to be a reasonable question of the Vice President at a certain point 'Have you ever been to The Ukraine.' It was clear the Vice President hadn't but still felt entitled to speak on behalf of it regardless,  It's a vast territory The Ukraine. Approximately the size of Mainland Europe. 

I called my mum. Made myself some tea, Texted friends and family. Listened to some music. Scrawled through social media. Then went to bed, I woke up the next day, Came downstairs. I was still rather in shock. I put a Simon & Garfunkel record on.Thought a bit about Marshall McLuhan and Network. Trial by and on television, Wondered why everything had to be on television. Wasn't this pretty serious? Why were people starting to shout about World War Three? Not finding answers to these questions I made a cup of tea and went to run the bath,

                           'Hello darkness my old friend. I've come to talk with you again...' 

I don't really have normal days anymore. I'm happy with that. It's the weekend. Though to be honest I don't distinguish between weekdays and weekends anymore. I'm self employed. Teaching German business people online from Monday to Friday,  Something I like doing and which doesn't really feel like work if I'm honest. It's a process I enjoy and learn from as well as getting paid. I've been teaching for almost thirty five years now. I hope I know what I'm doing.

 This also allows me to go to the cinema or to gigs during the week if I want to without disturbing my rhythm. I've got another gig today. Simon & Garfunkel seems like a great way day to start the day. The sun is rising. Simon & Garfunkel provide a calming narrative. But don't kid yourself. Their's were confusing, violent times. Just as ours are. But music can provide the best escape I'm finding. Narratives to lose yourself in. A compass. A map.. 

It's March. I realise eventually. So money will have gone out of my bank account today. Never mind. Some more will be going in in about a weeks time from now. I'm not obliged to go out with the tin just yet. Or take my Atlantic Boxset, a prized asset to the record shop across the road. I hope I never do. That was a present.  Take a deep breath as a good friend advised me recently. Good advice..  

On the turntable Simon & Garfunkel give way to ELO's Greatest Hits. One Side has an opening track called Evil Woman . Side B starts with Sweet Talking Woman. I prefer the sound of the Side B Woman I must say.  But I'm a slave to narrative so I go for Mrs Evil first ! Turn To Stone turns up midway through Side A and I proceed to listen to it any number of times as I make my way though the morning. Fantastic song from The Electric Sound Orchestra. Those guys had great hair. And great tunes ! 

I have my bath. Good. Personal hygiene matters. To other people and to myself. I have some of my best ideas in the bath. This time for my lessons on Monday. How to interrupt. Politely and less politely. Should I show the meeting at The White House to my students. No probably not. Just post a link to it . They can look at it if they want to. How to make a point and how not to make it. The importance of respect and conceding sometimes. Trying to reach a consensus. Hidden agendas.

I come out and put Mr Blue Sky on. ''It's a Beautiful New Day.'I look at the heavens from my desk window. It looks like it is. I get dressed and pack my durable M&S shopping bag. The one with great carrots on it. I'm going to my Fitness Centre which is five minutes from my flat. In the Royal Station Hotel. Where Queen Victoria stayed the night. And Kurt Cobain. But not together apparently. Though everything is up for grabs these days. In this Post Truth world. You decide. 

I put on another record and go upstairs and dress. Clean pants and socks. I reach inside my t shirt draw and unwrap a black one. Richard Nixon bowling at The White House. .This seems apt. I wonder if the bowling alley is still there in The White House and Donald rolls a few to warm up for his day of global misdirection and acquiring wealth and fame. A wrecking ball more like with that guy. In a room with wall to wall mirrors. King In Mirrors.  

I'm playing The Colorblind James Experience debut album from the mid Eighties. Considering a Move to Memphis. Classic American leftfield Indie. I wonder if Donald likes their work. I doubt it somehow.. They didn't sell any records. Take the Skinheads Bowling Donald. No. Camper Van Beethoven didn't sell any records either. Both bands were to good for popular acceptance,  Too good for Donald.

I nip across to Beatbox Records. Sam of No Teeth. We chat. We agree. On music and politics. We generally do. I like chatting to Sam. I buy some milk and head to the pool. Adam is at the desk. I ask him if he thinks Donald Trump is a Russian spy. He's unwilling to commit himself either way. Sensible lad Adam. I mention The Godfather. He said he hasn't seen it. I recommend it as the best way to understand the world. I'm an optimist but life has taught me to be a realist too.

I go to the sauna. I had a bit of a turn a few weeks ago after spending too much time in there for a few months during my stints at The Fitness Centre. My blood pressure had been too high and I think I pushed it too much. But I've had the necessary check ups and it's important that I start going back. Just need to change my routine. 

Chris is in the sauna when I go in . It's always nice to see Chris. He's a good bloke. Smart. The person I've known longest from this place, We compare notes. On the best circuit routine. On politics. On the football. Which for both of us really means Newcastle United. We agree on all three. And on The Godfather. I'm a teacher. I return to the same subject matter. I know it can make me dull and irritating. Hey put in a complaint against me. You won't be the first. Or the last. We bid each other farewell and I'm off home. Feeling better for my forty five minutes. 

I listen to I Am by Earth Wind & Fire while I warm my quiche. Now there's a band. Slick musicianship. Hey. I like and venerate The Velvet Underground. But I can't play them all the time. Boogie Wonderland. Star. Ask your local Indie band to take a shot at those two. I warrant they won't have the chops. I imagine the result would be pretty embarassing really.

After I Am comes Simple Minds Sons & Fascination. I'm beginning to feel good. Cocky even. I've taken exercise and I'm going to see a great band, Parastatic at The Star & Shadow Cooperative a couple of miles away from where I'm sitting. I went to see Mattiel on Tuesday night. By the end of the gig I was tired and left early. Let's see where we go, how we do tonight.

When I listened to and reviewed Parastatic's latest record Concrete Reborn on here the other day it reminded me of a few things. This Simple Minds album particularly. A record I bought when I was 18 and loved. I first bought New Gold Dream when it came out and worked my way backwards from there.

I resolve to play a few other records Concrete Reborn reminded me of. Pylon's Gyrate. Life Without Buildings. So I go to the sofa and soak up the sound. Seeing Out The Angels. It's impossible to explain to people younger than me how good Simple Minds were. Before they decided misguidedly to follow the highway that U2 were laying and became seriously bombastic and naff as they became huge. Oh Jim. Oh Charlie. It didn't have to be that way. 

In the end I don't bother with Pylon and Life Without Buildings but put on Fear of a Black Planet. instead. Still quite an extraordinary album 35 years on. It and Public Enemy are just something else frankly. There's so much going on. 

By the time I get Oscar Peterson on I'm relaxed. Sometimes you just find yourself things to worry and fret about. Or at least I tend to. Neurotic is perhaps a term that could be applied. I have my moments. I'm my mother's son. It's my mum's fault !!!

As the light fails I put on The Cure's Faith. The Cure are always a good band to listen to as the light fails. Al, one of the guys who works with Sam in Beatbox said some interesting things about The Cure and how the public perception of them has changed over the last couple of decades. How they've risen to the pantheon. With The Beatles and Bowie. This wasn't something you'd have anticipated in The Eighties. The music press were quite mean to them and Robert Smith in particular. Respect to them. Good luck. Faith just sounds MASSIVE this afternoon.

From MASSIVE to Massive Attack. I work out my route. I have a couple of hours to kill. I channel flick and watch some political analysis and then suddenly I see the news that David Johanson has died. The last of The Dolls. Time to pause and send a text to the friend I saw them with. Put on Lonely Planet Boy. I love pretty much everything about that band, but that seems the song to listen to right now.  It must have felt lonely sometimes to be the last Doll.

And then I'm ready to go....

Now is the post script. The actual event I'm writing this post about. It's Sunday morning. I've had my bath and I'm listening to John Coltrane's A Love Supreme.On the chair beside me I have a copy of Parastatic's's Concrete Reborn which I'll listen to as I dress and eat my breakfast before going to church.

It was a great evening. I left  just after six and came back after eleven. I forgot about that ridiculous melodrama of such global import whuch enacted itself out in the White House in Washington on Friday night. For the most part. There was some back and forth on social media with friends of mine who were processing what they'd seen. For the most part I just enjoyed the moment.

I left my flat and walked down to Newcastle Central Station. The night felt glossy. That's an adjective I like. To describe a pleasant evening. When it's not cold and there's a sense of anticipation. Almost hanging in the air. People around you are heading off to their own destinations. To enjoy their own Saturday nights.

I took a taxi to the Star & Shadow. I had been planning to take a bus, Expand my geographical awareness of the city I've been living in for fifteen years. But I couldn't find the bus stop. So I parked myself in the back of a taxi and got driven there by a really friendly and forthcoming Pakistani taxi driver who has lived in Newcastle for many years.

We talked. Or to be more strictly accurate, he talked to me. About his life. His two marriages. His six kids. What they're doing with their lives. His relationship with his homeland. About how he has property in Oxford but prefers it here. About when he will clock off this evening.

He did ask me about my life. He was a nice man. When we drive up to The Star & Shadow Cinema, he pointed out the bus stop opposite where I would be able to take my bus home. I thanked him and exited the taxi and went into The Star & Shadow. 

It's a great place. I saw Subway Sect playing at the former venue, many, many moons ago but it's the first time I've been to their new venue. I immediately felt at hime. Safe. My name was on the guestlist. I only saw one person I knew during the evening but I felt as if I was among friends that I didn't know. But the fact that I didn't know them was mere detail.

There was an Anarchist Bookshelf in the small library at the back of the large foyer and cafe area laid out with a comfortable set of tables and chairs. A wall socket where I charged my smartphone. 'Well I am just a modern guy.'  I like to have my smartphone fully charged.

I spend much of the evening in the lobby. I like to sit down these days. I don't like to stand up all evening if I can avoid it. Anyway the lobby area of The Star & Shadow is enough of an evening for me.People Watching  David Johansen has passedand now  I feel like Tom Verlaine and Richard Hell in New York in the early Seventies 'We were like spies...' 

Anyway, you're never alone in 2025. You have your smartphone for company these days. I speak to the friendly lads at the merch stall. They're in a band too. Supported Parastatic last night. I tell them who they remind me of. Simple Minds when they were great. Pylon. Life Without Buildings. They nod. They know the names if not the music. You have access to everything these days. It was much harder work  'When I was a lad...'

Late Girl who later sings with Parastatic is first. She has a slide show where the moon is constantly rising over concrete skylines. It reminds me of Koyaanisqatsi the Philip Glass soundtracked film about modern existence.

Next come Watchers who are a highly emotional and full on local guitar band. The singer opens his lungs and emotes. I wonder for a moment whether I am witnessing U2 supporting Simple Minds in 1980. They were better than that. But a little bombastic for my tastes. In the last song the singer begins to chant as the guitars crash and burn around him. Final mantra. 'I need to spend more time with those that I love.'  He chants that for ages.. . Fair enough mate. That's a great idea. But he wails it as an ongoing act of hypnosis to such a degree that I'm slightly relieved when they finally put down their instruments and troop off. I trust to track these people down and spend more time with them. Some quality time .

Parastatic do everything that I hope they will. A female singer spouting Futurists tracts. Marinetti.Walter Benjamin. Le Corbusier. Never mind that. Kraftwerk and Neu! Simple Minds and Pylon. Sculpture and Function.A backdrop of sculpture rising and crashing down. A motorik machine drummer. Bearded guitarists and keyboardist. Programme Operators. With their pocket calculators. Showroom dummies. They're just terrific. I must buy the album.

I've bought the record. I'm off into the night to catch my bus. The last thing I hear is a very excitable young man shouting 'That was really good!'  I agree wholeheartedly mate. One last thought. If you want to be happy in the present and look foward to the future. Try to learn from the past. If you want to be a TV star go on television. If you want to be president. Try to act like one occasionally    

What I Did Yesterday - Reposts for 2025 # 1 No Teeth at Lubber Fiend

 

Late last nught I found I couldn't sleep. I'd had a long nap earlier in the day and sometimes that comes back to you. I started flipping around on the phone  for simething to read and came to these. Accounts of my nights out at gigs this year. These are pieces I'm quite proud of and so I'm reposting them here.You wite with the hope that what you write wull be read. I've already had some wonderful experiences and we're not at April yet. I'm sure there are more to come !

I wake up in the morning and think. What day is it? Do I have a lesson. Are we at war. If so who are we at war with. This is not a new siituation I realise. This is the struggle which humanity has wrestled with since the dawn of time. Certainly long before weekends were ever invented,

I had some lessons with German business students. We laughed about the state of the world. I told them a joke. They laughed at it. Gratifying. You hope people will laugh when you tell them a joke. Two lessons were cancelled. One on time. One too late. I won't get paid for the first. I will be paid for the second. I must say. I prefer lessons I get paid for. Whether I teach them or not. I prefer to teach them frankly.

At half past one I taught one of my favourite students for an hour. We laugh about the ridiculous state of the world but we don't dwell on it. He likes The Police and Sting. And philosophy. I realise increasingly that I like all three myself. Pop music doesn't matter so much I've decided. Philosophy though is important. Working things out if you can. Fastening yourself to a course of actions. Modes of behaviour. And sticking to them.

A nice man comes to measure my blinds. I realise my windowsills need cleaning. So I do my best. I set about them as best I can. I'll keep working on these even though it's now the weekend. I take my washing down to the laundry. All the dryers are taken. Peoples socks, knickers and other unmentionables tumbling.

I have a conversation with a bearded Geordie in the downstairs laundry next to the car park.About the state of the world. Is it the end of the world?   I felt like I was in a film. We agreed we were probably in big trouble. We'll all be dead and buried eventually. There's no resisting the inevitabity of that. So enjoy it if you can. 

I take my bag with damp laundry back to my flat. Fear not. I've since taken them back to the upstairs laundry and they're dry now. That story's had a happy ending. I like happy endings. But some stories don't seem to have an end. Unreliable narrators. I can't be doing with those.kind of stories. Time for regime change, 

I meet with my mate Ian outside The Town Wall.. Ian always makes me laugh. He never reads any books but he's incredibly wise and funny. We go for a drink to discuss the state of the world. We have a couple of drinks. Him with alcohol in it. Me without. I prefer to keep reasonably sober these days. Experience has taught me to keep my eyes open. My wits about me. 

We talk about the Poll Tax Riots. I remember it as one of the worst days of my life. Ian remembers it as one of the best days of his. He makes me laugh again. Laughter is good. Regimes hate laughter. Sorry for laughing. There's too much happening.

We head into the Lubber Fiend. I like this place. It's Old School. New School. Old School. Sam and The No Teeth boys are there and so is Sam's betrothed. I'm not sure if that's what he calls her. What they call each other.What does it matter ! 

She's very nice. She tells me she's read my blog. I tell her that I don't know why she bothers . This is a blog that no one needs or reads. I like to think of it as The New New Journalism. Sam has got his earrings on. I tell him they don't suit him again They just don't. But I'm glad he wears them. . He laughs. Why should he care? What do I know?

The first band Lava Mouse are on. They sound like a band either from the foothills or the peaks of the Himalayas. Ir else Wallsend. I'm glad I don't live in the flat  above them or below them. They set off an incredible drone which becomes incredibly hypnotic ten minutes in. Ian and I approve.

The crowd are cool. Half of them it turns out are No Teeth's crowd. Like a small pack of reasonably well heeled and attractive football hooligans. We're all football hooligans at heart. At least we should try to be.

Ian and I don't really agree on next band. Ardent. Let's face it it's good to be Ardent mind. People like it. They're Indie which I'd say is a good thing. Last time I looked Indie was short for Independent. That's what I try to be. Though of course it's difficult. Sometimes they're Dinosaur Jr. Sometimes they veer into Morrissey Pastures. Where's me jumper. Oh, I didn't bring one. 

I think that they're not sure where a particular song is going themselves. But good luck to them. The crowd are very supportive. Everybody's Happy Nowadays. As I say, good luck to them. I'm sure they'll grow and change. That after all is what life is all about.     

But the bar raises as No Teeth amble onstage. Do an exciting sounding soundcheck and pose on the small raised stage in The Lubber Fiend. As Ian slightly drunkenly suggests, 'They're preparing to put their arses on the line.' As they should. It's what the kids deserve. Never mind those of us who are not technically kids but still feel like it. We have rights too.

I love No Teeth.So does Ian. Sam is a star but they're all stars really. They gurn and preen and interract.They understand the importance of putting on a show.  The audience are as much part of the No Teeth experience as the band. You know. Punk ! They're a little bit Pistols. A little bit Fall. A little bit Bonzo Doo Dah Band .Sam makes a set of great faces. They deserve recognition.

They're done. Ian's disppointed that they don't do an encore. But we've certainly had our money's worth. We walk back to the station and say 'let's do this again.' Vive la Revolution. Death to tyrants. Kick over the statues. The revolution will not be televised. Much as some people would like it to be.   

Song(s) of the Day # 4,048 Eddie Floyd

 

'I don't want to lose this good thing. That I've got.'

I brought a record the other day. Listened to it. I'm listening to it again now. I'm in a good moment in life at the moment. I have space. I can really listen to records and that's what I try to do most days. Really listen to them. Try to enter into the spirit and times they were made in. Appreciate the craft. Today's Song(s) of the Day is a prime example of the value of taking time out of your day to make an effort to do that, 

Eddie Floyd is primarily remembered now as a mid ranking Sixtues Soul journeyman. He put out a number of albums, a clutch of singles on Stax Records. He hit one big bullseye. Knock On Wood. I've got his debut album which bears the same name and was recorded in sessions take took place between July and December 1966. Perhaps you prefer to listen and wonder at Revolver or Pet Sounds. They're incredible. No criticism intended of either. But sometimes I like to sit down and listen and think. And try to write about something like this. 

Floyd had the Stax houseband Booker T & The MGs playing and writing with him on the record. Steve Cropper, Duck Dunn, Booker T Jones, Al Jackson Jr . It has Isaac Hayes on piano. We're talking the elite here. A band and set of musicians who played on any number of the best known Soul and Rock and Roll records ever made. They're no mere backing band. They punctuate the records they appear on. Ingest them with heart and poetry as well as backbone. Such is the case here.

The singer provides the narrative. Floyd is no Otis. no Aretha. But the songs and his vocals provide storylines that you don't require a PhD or a streak of genius to follow and appreciate. On Knock on Wood you get songs that anyone who ever had a heart. Had it broken, or broke someone else's or made up the peace and kept soldiering on. Working on the seam. Anyone with ears can read or relate to this.

Over the course of the album you get; I can't believe you're stepping out with me. I can't believe my luck. But I don't plan to take this for granted.  We're all working at a seam.On the mystery of love.. And that's just in Knock On Wood itself. Elsewhere Eddie and the boys work on related seams in the goldmines of love, pain, desire and heartbreak. They keep things simple. If you want something more showy there are plenty of Sting records for you to listen to. This by contrast is simplicity itself. .But if it was that simple everybody would do it. That's enough from me. Track down the record and try to work it out for yourself. This is a universal language. The best kind ever invented.

 

What I Did Yesterday - The Loft At The Cluny

'I know the world is wrong....I know where I belong. I keep it deep inside' The Loft This Machine Is On

 'Everybody's busy nowadays...' 

Alright that's not the Buzzcock lyric. I know. But it's a good expression for the way we live these days. Perhaps it's always been that way.. That's the way they want us. It keeps us distracted. I'm convinced.

I'm up with the larks. I'm not best served for birdwatching where I live. I'm unconvinced there's a ready supply of larks around the building where I live. I live in Central Newcastle. There's certainly a ready supply of seagulls. Swooping and shrieking outside my window most mornings. Pigeons. Urban vermin. Sometimes you'll get to witness a seagull's pecking on a pigeon's innards if you're unlucky. Don't be convinced by the veneer of civilisation. It's a war out there. Wherever you look.

Never mind. I've got a Dean Wareham album to listen to. A couple of lessons to plan. I go down and prepare the lessons I think I've got. I'm into a routine now. Friday is generally a busy day. But two have already been cancelled. On Time which means I won't get paid for either of them. Oh well. Swings and roundabouts. I'm getting increasingly phlegmatic nowadays. I have a decent supply of lessons coming in these days. I'm paying the rent.

I get my lessons planned and send them off to the students in advance. I often don't use them or at least all of them. But it keeps my bosses happy. Everybody deserves happiness. Even middle managers I'm insistent. More on that later. I listen to Dean Wareham's album That's The Price of Loving Me. It's rather lovely. Wistful. Dean's a master. 

I wish I'd seen Galaxie 500. I remember gazing at a copy of Galaxie 500's This Is Our Music. In a shop window in Turin, Christmas 1990. My heart was breaking. Any band or man that soundtracks the moments in your life when your heart is breaking deserves your eternal gratitude and attention. Dean has mine. He's just released another beautiful record. I commend it to you..

I'm ready for my half seven with a Biotech and Biomedical organisation. My branch and students are based in Dussledorf. I  listen to Kate Bush's The Dreaming while I dress and get sustenance from my pantry. Quality time with Kate. Mark E. Smith was very dismissive of her. 

Bloody Mark E. Smith a peasant from the village. I like some Fall records but the cult of reverence for the man is beyond me.How can you possibly not appreciate what Kate brought to the table. It's the culture of envy and gracelessness.  'Don't follow leaders. Watch the parking meters.' That's more to my taste.

At half seven I click on Google Calendars Teams link, wait outside the classroom for my Biotech and Biomedical class but am not admitted. There hcve been some cancellations but the class is still going to happen as far as I can make out. At quarter to eight D***** lets me in.  D*****  is something special. The existence of women like D*****  give you faith for the future of the world. 

We have 45 minutes together. I love what I'm doing now. She's inspiring.  She has to leave at half eight to go to her next meeting. I do the paperwork to give her areas of language which I hope will help . Jot it all down on a feedback document and post it. To keep her on the road to her next destination. Also to keep the middle managers happy. They'll never be completely happy I suspect. I see that I have another lesson cancelled. Too late this time. So some more Euros will get tipped into my bank account in a couple of weeks.

I consider myself early retired. I think I can do this until I need to stop working and probably beyond. Teaching motivated students doesn't feel like work. It's something I've done all my adult life and know that I'm good at. Always room for improvements mind. Anyway. The day is mine. What shall I do.

I put on Buzzcocks Singles Going Steady while I shave and pack my trusty St Michael's Carrot Bag with library books to be renewed, a towel and swimming trunks. It's a lovely sunny day in Toon. What to do. I know !!!

Anybody who knows me to any degree will know a few basic things about me. I like early R.E.M. I'm a decent teacher. And I have a certain amount of mischief about me. OK. I'm a bloody wind up merchant. I'm going into the place I used to work for fifteen years. I left my workplace a year and a month ago now. Fifteen years of heavy mental labour. .I had a very unhappy time there for the most part. It's a common story. It was a corporate hellhole with a very unenlightened approach. In most respects. Any number of people behaved terribly badly. It was the overriding culture..

A number of people have warned me to keep away from there. Wash my hands. But knowing myself better than anybody else I'm paying no heed. Every time I go in there I feel better now. I have nothing to be ashamed of. Some people who still work there should feel ashamed. I'm not a vindictive person. But it's quite good for people to be reminded sometimes. Perhaps they will learn something and behave a bit better.

So I put my coat on. My battered pork pie hat. Pack my shades. Take the brisk fifteen minute walk back to my former workplace. I see a handful of people there that I like a lot. I joke with them that this is an external inspection. Do they have their passports? This is important. I might have to come back in and close  the place down next time. . I assure them I'll let them know when the inspection is finished and I've submitted my report who it's from. We've got to have some fun. That's why we're alive.

I see one person there who I'm less fond of in the lobby. Who I came to realise was ridiculously arrogant and full of himself. Who didn't behave very well towards me for no reason except his own slightly unmerited high opinion of himself.. He doesn't meet my eye. It's what I'd expect. Like I said, it's a war out there. Seagulls know. But I'm not a seagull. I try to be nice when I can..I'm not interested in feasting on anyone's heart.

I've had my fun. I say my farewells and I'm off down Northumberland Street to the library to renew my books. I should really stop renewing these  books and actually read them. I've got nothing to do this weekend. It might actually happen today. I won't be going to the big parade for the arrival of the first domestic football  trophy to arrive in these parts for seventy years later on today. I'm very happy to be here. I love Newcastle and its people but I'm not kidding myself that I'll ever be a Geordie even though I've been made to feel .incredibly welcome here.Football has a secondary place from now on in. 

I turn into Clayton Street West a man on a mission. My mission to find some decent, cheap records in the charity shops second hand record sections . I find gold in Amnesty International. A five pound copy of Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds Soundtrack from the Mid Seventies. It sends me spinning back in time to a golden memory from my youth. Reminds me of a person who's not here anymore and is missed by many. I'll write about that fully in another post here. I bag the record. Exchange some pleasantries wuth the nice gents who work there.

Memories are important and I love these portals that allow me to access moments of my life. Music can do this better than anything else I find. So I take War of the Worlds home , Put it on my player. The record spins like silk. Immaculate condition. I revel in the moment and the sound and voices. The narrative. 

The memories whuch fill my flat like the swirling ghosts at the finale of Indiana Jones. . It's important I think not to be trapped by memories but sometimes it's good to doff your cap to the past and remember those no longer with us. These people make us what we are. The dead are owed their due.

But so too are the living. I head for the Fitness Centre. The pool is busy and the jacuzzi fenced off. I have five minutes in the sauna and head for the exit after a little back and forth and banter about the state of the world with Dave and Adam at the service desk. There's never a dull moment at The Royal Station Hotel Fitness centre. It deserves a blog of its own. But It Starts is not it. At least not today. 

From there I go back and fix myself some tea. I make at least a bit of an effort today. Jacket potatoes sure but I also fry up some mushrooms and boil some chunks of sweetcorm. Fanny Craddock eat your heart out! I listen to Revolver, make a point of listening until Tomorrow Never Knows  has it's say. 

That track is less than three minutes long but is probably the greatest example of compressed expression I can think of. The meaning of within. More birds. Ctying for humanity. Cheer up Bruce! I'm ready to go. I'm off into the night. On my way to The Cluny 

I'm 'listening to the colour of my dreams'. Walking back. To the future. The Quayside feels still. Even on a Friday evening. I'm heading up the hill to the Ouseburn Hills. Up the hill and down the slope. To the doors of Cluny 2. Into the venue. Down a couple if narrow staircases and into the venue. There are like minded souls gathered inside. It's a bit too dark for me this venue. 

I chat to people about the significance of the night. The guy at the merch stand. A lovely guy in de rigeur breton striped top. I promise him I'll be back. I chat to a lovely couple about the state of the world. They live in Alnwich. He's from Chicago. they know the band from back in the day. Bobby Gillespie. Alan McGee. The birth of Creation Records. 

These were the days when The Loft were considered the band to watch. Before Jesus & Mary Chain arrived to steal their thunder and Alan's attention. Before they split up onstage at The Hammersmith Palais in a fit of fury, resentment and rage. Pete Astor the singer and Dave Morgan the drummer went off with several of their best songs to form the Weather Prophets. 

Onward to Elevation Records. Almost Prayed, their should have been hit single. Andy Strickland The Loft's firebrand guitarist and Bill Prince their bassist simmered with youthful  resentment. A week is a long time in Rock & Roll. This is now almost forty years. Time it seems has healed raw wounds of youthful rage.  

 Chris from Prancey Dog, who's put this event on is here. He like me I suspect is distracted by the thought of seeing this great 'should have been' band. They've regrouped, miraculously recorded and relased theur debut album, Forty years after the event. More stoical  about their place in the scheme of things but happy to have this second opportunity to show off theur wares. Make a statement about what a great band they were and are.

Nev Clay the Geordie Leonard Cohen wuth additional mental health concerns and admirable fury about the state of play and welfare cuts, has been drafted in at the last minute. He plays another splendid set. But he's aware that he is not the main event tonight. He's looking forward to catching The Loft as much as everyone else is. 

I breach the stairs and strike a match and watch it burn against the night in the company of Dave Morgan. Drummer of The Loft . But also of the Weather Prophets and The Rockingbirds. He rages, not so much against the dying of the light as at Pete's youthful temper, arrogance and ambitious if foolish ego.

He goes into a flight of fancy about the drugs everybody did back in the day. Cocaine. A blizzard. I tell him about when I caught The Weather Prophets at The Hammersmith Clarendon in 1987. With Pop Will Eat Itself, The Sevants, and remarkably The Happy Mondays in support. Those boys were like sniffer dogs. They hoovered up a bus oad or two of Colombian Marching Powder in their time.It has to be done. This is Rock & Roll.

But now it's time. I take my place as The Loft gather onstage by the side. Where I've got a good view of proceedings. Can take some photos on my trusty smartphone and appreciate their thing. It's the best vantage point. They play a golden set. Strickland, Astor and Prince a golden, greying frontline making guitars sound they way god intended them to sound. A brilliant, considered intensity. Morgan providing the artillery. 

If the hair is grey the guitars are golden and the lyrics thoughtful, poetic and frequesntly divine. Indie Divinity.They play a greatest should have been hits set and are incredubly drilled. Strickland genuflects and fires out glorious guitar sparks. Duels with Astor like a Home Counties Verlaine and Lloyd. 

The Television comparisons are inevitable with these boys. They play Richard Hell's Time early. An immaculate and heartfelt cover. Astor jokes that it's many people's favourite song of theirs yet they didn't actually write. it. 'The past is a tangled knot.' They're comfotable in the skins. Or as comfortable as you ever get.  

The Beatles are also there. Unmistakeable. They don't miss a beat and the crowd are in their palm. A modest gathering. Not what they deserve. But I imagine the band are happy with appreciative glow nowadays. There's full on banter. Only Prince keeps his own counsel. Bonhomie. 

We get the songs that matter. Choice cuts from the latest record. Up The Hill and Down the Slope. Why Does The Rain. Still as potent as the day it was written. Existential poetry. 'Why when the sun start to rise. Do people wake and catch the morning train?' Why indeed. Because we have to, Songs like these are written to help us. 

Thanks to The Loft. I get my t shirt and I'm iff into the night. Up another hill. To catch the late night bus. Sated.

A Moment In Time N.M.E, 6th July 1985 - # 9 Jack Kerouac

 

The NME back in those days was a cradle of learning for troubled teens and twenty somethings further down The Road. Leaving hime. Embarked on journeys of self discovery. I was one of them and have no regrets about the age I was born into. I fastened myself to The NME and tried to gather information and inspiration as well as I was able given my youth and innocence.

This week's NME gave a whole page to Jack Kerouac and an opportunity to Biba Kopf, one of its key writers, (and if memory serves a Birthday Party devotee,) to write a rhapsodic page if dense prose about Jack's troubled passage.He takes Memory Babe - A Critical Biography of Jack Kerouac by Gerald Nicosia as his starting point and journeys on from there. 

The article that Kopf produced is both scrupulously reserarched, engaged, committed and makes the reader want to go from there and learn more. Or else start scribbling themselves.  It's worth the 45p cost of the issue alone .

 

500 Greatest Albums of the 1980s ... Ranked! # 55 Sisters of Mercy - Floodland

 

I'm sorry. Respect and all that. But the last thing I want to listen to on a bright Saturday morning is another Sisters of Mercy album. regardless of its considerable, undoubtable merits. Driving another stake itnto the heart of the Lord of Darkness. Give me Laughing Len. Or Jacques. Au suivant. Forgive me Andrew. 

Song(s) of the Day # 4,047 Perfume Genius

 

'When I see the glory. I ain't got a worry.'

There's a new album called Glory from Perfume Genius.Just out.  His seventh. As always with Mike Hadreas every moment is suffused with passion, romance and engagement. Talent. I put it on in my flat as I bathe and dress. 

It's lush, textured romance.Bruised, damaged. But wonderfully pure. Free of regret. And moving upwards towards the light, Where we all want to be. Where we deserve to be. Give it a listen, Make it a soundtrack for your weekend.  Bathe in it.

A Moment In Time N.M.E, 6th July 1985 - # 8 Nationwide Gig Guide

 

These days we search for things to do, gigs to see on our phones. In those days you looked on the NME Gig Guide. Bruce Springsteen was playing Wembley Stadium. All three nights were sold out. 

The Chameleons, Green On Red and Jonathan Richman were in London. Pete Seeger was at The Royal Albert Hall. Somply Red were playing Ronnie Scott's. Neil Innes played an open air gig in Harlow.

The Armoury Show were at Tiffany's in Newcastle. The Nightingales and Jason & The Scorchers were touring the country.As were Marc Riley & The Creepers.

Best Ever Albums - 2,000 - 1,001 - 1,621 Supergrass - I Should Coco

 

Youth. Very few records scream Youth quite as clearly as I Should Coco. Suergrass were pure joy when they first appeared. The moment in life when you realise you can grow furry sideburns. And seize the opportunuty,

500 Greatest Albums of the 1980s ... Ranked! # 56 Kate Bush - The Dreaming

 

When The Dreaming came out out it was not taken entirely seriously. But ut was a statement of immense bravery from Kate Bush. An assertion of herself as a pantheon artist. Laying the paving for the Hounds of Love where she broke the tape for the gold. I don't actually have a copy of Hounds of Love. This is enough for me. I'll put this one on as I prepare for my half seven virtual lesson in Dussledorf. A magnificent achievement in every respect.

Song(s) of the Day # 4,046 Dean Wareham

 

It's a Friday morning. My lesson is planned, my bath is run, and I have a Dean Wareham album to enjoy, Life could be worse. He's a treasurable artist Wareham. One who notice the motes in the sunlight and sings their praises.. He's learned the lessons that need learning from mentors like Lou Reed, Lee Hazlewood and Tom Verlaine, picked up the torch and carried it onward. 

That's The Price of Loving Me is ten songs of boho vision. Spaced and crafted  songs.. In my case they took me from quarter to six to half past as the sun rose in Newcastle heavens. The best way to spend time.Wistful mastery of a form. A description of love. An awreness of mortality. A calm acceptance of it. An album of xonsummate grace. Choose your time but make the space. The fabric of life is made of such small, intricate joys.

101 Essential Rock Records # 44 Jeff Beck - Truth

 

'A masterful display of Beck's chops.'

Labelled With Love - A History of the World in Your Record Collection - # 53 XL Recordings

 

Best Ever Albums - 2,000 - 1,001 - 1,622 Saturday Night Film Fever OST

 

As definituve a 1977 album as any Punk record. As an eleevn year old it struck me as slightly weird. The Movie is tough as nails.

500 Greatest Albums of the 1980s ... Ranked! # 57 Echo & The Bunnymen - Crocodiles

 

A new Wave of Psychedelia at the end of the Sevnties. A very important record to me when I first heard it a couple of years later. I fastened myself to records and bands in those days. It was a good thing to do. I'm pleased with my young self. And the bands were worth attaching yourself to im those days. They had vision, ambition drive and belief. A sense of mission.

As for Crocodiles. It was disquieting, Also inspiring. The record I was looking for without realising I was looking for it, . I love the guitars. The voice. The passion. The sense of unease. But also the fact that it wedded itself to melody and dark romanticism. It still sounds magical and darkly seductivee. Mystery. Love's secret ingredient.

Song(s) of the Day # 4,045 Eliza Niemi

 

The latest catch from Starbuck. Captain Ahab's best mate. Darren Jones, for it is he, appeared like an apparition on the maindeck of It Starts yesterday brandishing a fresh catch. The latest delicasies from the High Seas for the captain's table. Ahoy me hearties !

First up Eliza Niemi's Progress Bakery. A new artist to me. Wonky Americana Indie. Although Eliza hails from Toronto. This is a record that makes no effort to conform to the given script. In the way that Jad Fair, Roches, Laurie Anderson, and the like didn't way back in their day.

This is an odd record and not exactly easy listening. On the surface it's homey and easy going like the smalltown high street pictured on the record sleeve but actually it's a rather unsettling and uncomfortable listen. 

You get the sense that all is not quite what it seems to be but  can't quite figure out what. The voices are treated and unsettling. Thanks for this Darren. I'm not entirely sure what I think of this record but I'm glad I've heard it. .  

101 Essential Rock Records # 43 Grateful Dead - Anthem Of The Sun

 

Calfornia acid rock at its most potent and mind altering.

Labelled With Love - A History of the World in Your Record Collection - # 52 Warner Bros Records

 

A Moment In Time N.M.E, 6th July 1985 - # 7 Charts

 

Sister Sledge were Number One in the Single Charts with Frankie. Madonna was Number Two with Crazy For You. A gurlfriend sang that down the telephone line to me one time, That was nice. The Redskins Bring It Down was # 21. But I suspect they weren't invited on Top Of The Pops. They were Trotskyites. Walking On Sunshine was dropping like a stone

The Cult and New Order topped the respective Independent Singles and Album charts. There was a Danclefloor 15 supplied by Sister Ray's of Brighton which included T.Rex, Hoodoo Gurus, The Doors, The Smiths, Iggy Pop, Nancy Sinatra. And erm Gary Glitter.

The paper listed Lest We Firget Single charts from 5, 10, 15 and 20 years previously. And also Half Term Reports for the year which Jesus & Mary Chain, The Velvet Underground and Anthony Braxton headed.

Best Ever Albums - 2,000 - 1,001 - 1,623 The Alan Parsons Projest - Eye In The Sky

 

This album came out the year I left secondary school. I would have been aware if it but I'd already chosen my fork in the road. The side of the bed I wished to lie on. This kind of Prog awe had no appeal to me. I just found it frighteningly bland and unappealling. A radio channel I would just turn over.

500 Greatest Albums of the 1980s ... Ranked! # 58 AC / DC - Back in Black

 

When I was at school some of the kids in the playground used to burble on about AC/DC. A guy called Jason Burby. Talk of Bon Scott. Songs called Beating Aroind The Bush. The thought didn't appeal them and it still doesn't. O hear a song occasionally that sounds alright. Has a ceryain kind of earthy appeal. But I'm sirry I can't face a whole album this morning, I leave that to Jason Burby wherever he is.

Song(s) of the Day # 4,044 Greentea Peng

 

TELL DEM IT'S SPRING ! Hold your horses Greantea Peng. It's not even April yet, But this, her secind year is a good orecursor of longer days and warmer weather ahead. Her second record it's brimming over with positivity and good vibes.

Multiciltural vibes. Fluid London poetic vibes. Rapping. She's coming to Newcastle soon. I might have to check my finances. This is rather a lovely wau to start the day. Old School. New School

Best Ever Albums - 2,000 - 1,001 - 1,622 Dinosaur Jr. - Where You Been

 

Let's face it. With Dinisaur Jr. you kniw what you're getting. Blazing guitar soloing. Ennui. Confusion. Self Pity. Heroic guitar soloing. This is a good one. 

Labelled With Love - A History of the World in Your Record Collection - # 51 Virgin Records

 

Richard Branson

101 Essential Rock Records # 42 The Band - Music For Big Pink

 

'cleared the air with a refreshing lack of pretense.'

A Moment In Time N.M.E, 6th July 1985 - # 6 The Letters Page

 

We used to write letters back in thise days. I still have a drawer of them in my desk for the moments that I feel wistless.

This weeks collection, edited by Matt Snow is a good example of what went on week after week. Jusr inside the back cover. A cross letter to Paul Weller accusing him of lacking commitment and engagement in a Style Council live show. Selling the auduence short. Hevy handed bouncer approach.

A number more angry types having a pop at Weller and Socialism. A turade against Bruce Springsteen. Some more back and forth about him. He's made a donation to the miner's cause.Onto Lana Pellay an LGBT perfirmer recently featured. Much political rage. An interesting window on a highly politicl decade when a lot seemed on the line. Isn't it always?

. 

500 Greatest Albums of the 1980s ... Ranked! # 59 Aztec Camera - High Land. Hard Rain

 

Whenever I think about this extraordinary debut album I draw the same conclusion. The best album I know of what it feels like to be seventeen. Made when I was seventeen. How lucky was I. 

Song(s) of the Day # 4,043 Dutch Interior

 

Tuesday morning. Lessons planned. This gives me an hour with Moneyball. A record by a band from California with artistic sensibilities and apparent indecision about whether they wish to be Pavement or Grizzly Bear.Or the themselves. They strive manfully fir the optimum objective. 

They associations are inevitble but Dutch Interior make the best of them and they manage to plot a course of their own where there's plenty to interest the casual listener. Major chord changes. Introspection. Literary lyrics. Lots of air and light. Space.

Less preoccupation with being cleverer than thou or trying to be English like Malkmus and co. Not so oblique. Greater reflection. Less restlessness. As the album shifts on it becomes more uneasy. It sails a relatuvely steady path to its end destination. .

101 Essential Rock Records # 41 Small Faces -Ogden's Nut Gone Flake

 

Labelled With Love - A History of the World in Your Record Collection - # 50 Verve Records

 

500 Greatest Albums of the 1980s ... Ranked! # 60 Sisters of Mercy - First, Last & Always

 

Forks in the road. I never toik the Goth path. I did listen to The Banshees and The Cure a lot. Still do..  But I never dyed my hair or invested in leather jackets or studded wristbands. It's a relief looking back. It's still not an affectation that appeals..

I looked down the playlist of this album with grim foreboding just now. Having to listen to it rather than actually enjoying my afternoon seemed a grim prospect. Like Prometheus or Sysyphus.Chained to their fate.  Then I realised, why not just not listen to it?   And I felt a lot better immediately.

Best Ever Albums - 2,000 - 1,001 - 1,623 Motorhead - Overkill

 

Song(s) of the Day # 4,042 Men I Trust

  

The seagulls are wheeling outside my window. It's a bright, spring day. The start of another working week. I'n listening to Equus Asinus, the latest album by Canadian Indie contenders Men I Trust. It  has an odd, slightly disconcerting sleeve. A plain, thim bespectatcled everyman ironing a shiry, presumably an office shirt. The life many of us are condemned to from the moment we enter the working environment.

Equus Asinus, reminds us, as the best music does thatwe are humans, first and foremost, and it behoves us not to forget it. It's a record of languid grace. Sad in its tone occasionally, it's not one that's liable to encourage you to jump up and down on your bed, but it's altogether well decked out and thoughtful and I commend it to you. It's forty five minutes well spent. Oh well. Must get ready for work. Breakfast awaits..