My mind was elsewhere, when my good lady wife came into the room and said; "Murray's coming out at Wimbledon."
And I thought; "Yes, it all fits. The body image consciousness, the desire to excel, the reticence in talking or to disclose personal details, the powerful mother figure with cropped hair - even the pretty girlfriend as a 'f*ck you' to the straight male world. Good for you, Andy, I'm sure you will be happier and will go on to great things."
And then I woke up.
Friday, 28 June 2013
Wednesday, 20 March 2013
Terry Pratchett for God
It’s no secret that one of my many obsessions is the author Terry Pratchett, and his creation Discworld – world and mirror of worlds. At first, I suspect like many others, I thought it was just an amusing sci-fi/fantasy series, but I quickly realised that within the wild plots, free-wheeling humour, pinpoint character portraits and searing critiques of …. of … well, just about everything (Read ‘Going Postal’. You’ll pick up the stuff about Ankh-Morpork and the Patrician Vetinari as you go along, and as for Adora Belle Deerheart and the Golem Trust which she runs …. well, as Jimmy Carter almost said, I have committed fictional adultery with her in my heart.) there is a man who wants to take us by the neck and shake us silly. He is the Charles Dickens de nos jours. What a cruel joke God is playing on him, if you still think God exists.
Oh, you were maybe expecting something about music in this, my music blog? Well, welcome to the Interweb. It’s chaos. I can do anything I damned well please, and I please to write about Pratchett right now.
Not least because his life mirrors mine, except that I haven’t written 30-plus novels. A minor point, I think – after all, I have a hat just like his, and at a distance people poke each other and whisper excitedly, until they get close. AND I invented the plot of ‘Hogfather’ before he wrote it, and have files of correspondence between me and him (admittedly, after the first brief note from Terry, his side tapers off sharply) to prove it.
But I digress. It’s what I do best.
You bought ‘A Brief History of Time’, by Hawking, didn’t you? Did you get to page 145 (no, me neither), where he breaks down and admits that he’s just having a laugh, and he hasn’t a clue what it’s all about, and we should just pursue our quest for the perfect Chicken Tikka Massala followed by the perfect Mohito, and then listen to ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ with the quadraphonic speakers just so? All else is silence.
I had a point here, somewhere. Oh, yes.
I am re-reading the ‘Science of Discworld’ trilogy. I’m not overly (Incidentally, ‘overly’ is a word my English master at secondary school refused to believe existed. You can tell I didn’t go to a good school.) fond of spin-offs from any franchise, but I make an exception for these. They are funny, and thought-provoking. Terry collaborates with two science-based authors, and successfully contrasts the magic-based structure of Discworld with the quantum-mechanically based structure of the ‘real’ universe (a reality you soon come to doubt) – with hilarious consequences.
The science authors make the trilogy a bit verbose, but stick with it. Each book features alternating chapters between discourses on real science, and the efforts of the wizards at Unseen University
The trilogy covers the creation of the universe, and evolution. Big subjects. But out of it all, the one which captures me is ‘time’.
We really have no conception of how long a million years really is. Really. I mean, you may think it’s a long way down the road to the chemist’s, but that’s just peanuts compared to
Sorry. Flipped over into the wrong obsession, for a moment.
OK, there’s lots of stuff about the physics of time and the fact that current hypotheses say that time’s arrow could be reversed, and there’s string theory and multidimensional/parallel universes and black/white holes and dark matter and the whole Deep Space Nine scenario …. but time and time again, I come back to Time.
The species we call ‘human’ has been on this planet for an eyeblink of time. We’ve done pretty well (deforestation and imminent extinction of most major mammals aside) in our study of what the hell is going on, but we haven’t got to grips with time. As witness, the fossil record. We comfortably assume that, because we have some fossils of trilobites and fish and the odd ichthyosaur and dinosaur and hadrosaur and pterosaur that we have a clear picture of evolution. Nope. There were tens of millions of years when the earth was ruled by creatures that we know about, but are not photogenic enough to have appeared in ‘Walking with Dinosaurs’.
Not to beat about the bush, WE DON’T KNOW SHIT!
Fossils are amazingly rare. It’s just the sheer mass of them, accrued throughout immense lengths of time, that makes us think otherwise. There are hundreds of millions of years in our history when no fossils were formed or preserved. The earth is 4.5 billion (Did you get that? Billion? That’s 1,000,0000,0000,000 years – think of all those tax returns.) years old, give or take. It’s quite possible that there was a flourishing civilisation of some kind two billion years ago, with intelligent entities saving up to buy a second home in the polar regions where it was nice and chilly all year round, until a comet impact turned the planet back into hot lava. And then we evolved from the remains of their equivalent of a Lamb Biriani.
I could say something trite, like; “Life will find a way!”.
But I have run out of energy, and I was never very good at conclusions.
Live long and prosper.
[Damn! I can never do that finger thing!]
Friday, 8 February 2013
"I Can't Believe It's Not Amon Duul!"
Right, we have just had a totally insane twenty minutes here, and I want to share some of the magic of early 70s Krautrock with you.
Bob (you all know Bob, one half of Alpines, our in-house rock band) had a friend coming round who knows EVERYTHING about all things musical. So I challenged Bob to ask him - who was Renate Knaup-Krotenschwanz, and which band does she perform with?
Here's some clues. Before Kraftwerk (and perhaps Neu!) took it into all that electronica, there were German groups who knew how to rock, but weren't limited by blues-boogie or heavy metal.
People, we are talking Amon Duul. Amon Duul II, to be precise, although Amon Duul I didn't release much material. (Sorry, I can't figure out how to do the umlauts.) Basically, they were a hippy commune that spawned some music and split into two bands ..... probably their most famous piece being 'Jail House Frog', which if you stick with to the end includes one of the most massive saxophone solos prior to 'Baker Street'.
Ah, they had great titles, great artwork, and sometimes great tunes. 'Dance of the Lemmings' (double album - 'Race from here to your ears' has some great demented guitar solos) was what drew me to them. It took me months to get hold of a copy of 'Yeti' (another double). 'Phallus Dei' *sniggers*. Yep, there's a lot of self-indulgent noodling, but they could get it together. I saw them live at Imperial College in 1972, and I am one of the few people in the country with a copy of the live album that came from that tour. They had two drummers on stage, John Weinzerl was cranking out immense guitar, Renate was warbling like a good 'un ...... glad it was in that dawn to be alive, or sunnink. Their bassist went on to play with Lemmie. Rock nobility.
Click on the pic that opens, to get, you know, stuff .....
Bob (you all know Bob, one half of Alpines, our in-house rock band) had a friend coming round who knows EVERYTHING about all things musical. So I challenged Bob to ask him - who was Renate Knaup-Krotenschwanz, and which band does she perform with?
Here's some clues. Before Kraftwerk (and perhaps Neu!) took it into all that electronica, there were German groups who knew how to rock, but weren't limited by blues-boogie or heavy metal.
People, we are talking Amon Duul. Amon Duul II, to be precise, although Amon Duul I didn't release much material. (Sorry, I can't figure out how to do the umlauts.) Basically, they were a hippy commune that spawned some music and split into two bands ..... probably their most famous piece being 'Jail House Frog', which if you stick with to the end includes one of the most massive saxophone solos prior to 'Baker Street'.
Ah, they had great titles, great artwork, and sometimes great tunes. 'Dance of the Lemmings' (double album - 'Race from here to your ears' has some great demented guitar solos) was what drew me to them. It took me months to get hold of a copy of 'Yeti' (another double). 'Phallus Dei' *sniggers*. Yep, there's a lot of self-indulgent noodling, but they could get it together. I saw them live at Imperial College in 1972, and I am one of the few people in the country with a copy of the live album that came from that tour. They had two drummers on stage, John Weinzerl was cranking out immense guitar, Renate was warbling like a good 'un ...... glad it was in that dawn to be alive, or sunnink. Their bassist went on to play with Lemmie. Rock nobility.
Look, it's Friday night, drink has been taken .... I was urging Bob to pursue his career by creating an Amon Duul tribute band, which we were going to call 'I can't believe it's not Amon Duul,' or 'Lemmingmania' .... alas, it is not to be.
And woooo ... the Duul are still living the hippy dream. If I can, I am going to post a link to their official website, which is sprawling and messy and slow and ..... hey man, this stuff is really primo, you know?
Saturday, 26 January 2013
Famous for fifteen minutes?
Well, some of us would make do with less than that. The occasional letter in the Guardian. A blurred image in the background of some news footage. Inhaling the same air as Joanna Lumley in Heathrow Arrivals.
And, of course, some of us couldn't care either way.
But then, you have to ask yourself - why is there YouTube?
Try an experiment. Open Google, riff some random keys and hit 'Enter'. I bet near the top of the resulting list will be a YouTube video. (Disclaimer: Doesn't actually work every time - most people seem to riff with the left hand only. Be reasonable.)
But I digress. Here's some stuff I came across while looking for other things. I think they are poignant, whilst being good in and of themselves.
First up, Patrick Butterworth doing a cover of Florence and the Machine's 'You've got the love'.
He's good, but that is not completely what drew me to this. It's the little details. The view out of his high-rise flat window, the bottle on the window sill .... I don't know. The whole kit and caboodle. I hope it works out for you, Patrick, I really do, you have talent.
And, of course, some of us couldn't care either way.
But then, you have to ask yourself - why is there YouTube?
Try an experiment. Open Google, riff some random keys and hit 'Enter'. I bet near the top of the resulting list will be a YouTube video. (Disclaimer: Doesn't actually work every time - most people seem to riff with the left hand only. Be reasonable.)
But I digress. Here's some stuff I came across while looking for other things. I think they are poignant, whilst being good in and of themselves.
First up, Patrick Butterworth doing a cover of Florence and the Machine's 'You've got the love'.
He's good, but that is not completely what drew me to this. It's the little details. The view out of his high-rise flat window, the bottle on the window sill .... I don't know. The whole kit and caboodle. I hope it works out for you, Patrick, I really do, you have talent.
Now we move up a level, so that you can watch chantoosie Nina Schofield doing an excellent cover of "Tidal Wave" by 'Sub Focus ft. Alpines'.
Note the use now of pre-recorded accompaniment, professional mike guard, in-ear mixing probably with click track ..... MS Schofield regularly performs live, and I wish her larger venues.
As the Reverend Eli Jenkins says in 'Under Milk Wood'; "Praise the Lord, we are a musical nation!". (Of course, he was talking about the Welsh, who see it as their god-given right to sing on all occasions. I'll never forget the night at Uni in 1974 when we accidentally went into the 'Welsh' pub in Aberystwyth on a Saturday after the rugby, and were subjected to hours of students standing on tables bellowing out 'Sosban Fach' .... well, when I say hours, I mean until we could throw down our drinks and repair to more civilised surroundings. No lingering offense; I'm half Welsh, myself. Doesn't mean I can't make jokes about sheep.)
Right, losing the thread, my interest and probably yours.
OK, how about this. Somewhere out there right now is an as-yet unregarded home-made video from someone who, over the next twenty five years, will revolutionise the future of popular music, generate a whole new industry based on some entertainment technology yet to be invented, lead a scandalous private life, and die in mysterious circumstances possibly involving alien contact.
All YOU have to do is to find it, get involved, and your fortune is assured.
Wednesday, 16 January 2013
The demise of HMV. That's a real watershed.
So, we no longer have any major High Street chain selling music, in physical formats. This makes me unhappy.
Let me take you back to the late sixties and early seventies. On the television, we have Top of the Pops and The Old Grey Whistle Test. In the main, that's it and that's all - radio was rubbish, apart from John Peel's programme (lord, I miss you, John - why do the good die young.). If you liked pop music, you were glued to the former, and if you had heard about Captain Beefheart, you tried to stay awake for the latter, while revising for your chemistry mock O-level or similar.
Here's a typical Saturday for a burgeoning muso in those days. Cornflakes and BBC Radio Four news, which may even have still been called 'The Home Service'. Denim flares and wedge heels on, or maybe loon pants .... RAF greatcoat ..... off into town to flick through all the albums in the racks of some six or seven music stores.
OK, this isn't me, but it's reminiscent:
Boots and Woolworths used to sell records, fer crissake. There were specialist stores that would get in US imports .... you could come across amazing things by accident. It was an education.
My significant other has reminded me that some of these stores would have booths where you could listen to a track or two off the album you were thinking of buying. They even allowed you to go into the booths in pairs - it was a more innocent time. And you could smoke a fag in there. I can remember when the whole world reeked of Embassy No. 1's. When I moved to London for my one year at Imperial College studying phsyics before I was rusticated, I remember flicking through the racks at Virgin Records in Notting Hill. I may even have seen the sainted Mr. Branson on one of those Saturdays, but obviously I couldn't distinguish him from the other bearded hippies and sundry oddballs behind the counter.
And of course you would buy your copy of New Musical Express, which had amazing, amusing and informative articles about groups like The Ramones or John Macloughlin or Sun Ra or The Incredible String Band. Robert Fripp would be advertising courses in 'Guitar mechanics' in the small ads. Warner Brothers would be taking out double page spreads to advertise their latest hopeful supergroup, who would never be heard of again. Money was sprayed into the industry like nobody's business.
And now, we've come to this. Amazon, iTunes, and Spotify. Bands unable to fund their careers and albums, unless they tour themselves to death in grotty venues. I despair. We NEED music. Popular music has kept me going, when all around has looked dark. Look, I'm OK now, and I want to give something back so that there's something left for the future. But I don't think online and download is the way to go. It's not a community thing. In Kingston, we have one proper record store left. Banquet Records. They have racks you can flick through, they support local groups through events and displays and instore promotions, they know about what's going on. I want their babies. (OK, Ed, rein it in a little.)
Right, I no longer know where I'm going with this piece, so that's an indication that I should end it here. Hey, I'm not being paid to do this, so I can do what the hell I like. So good to be free of The Man.
Let me take you back to the late sixties and early seventies. On the television, we have Top of the Pops and The Old Grey Whistle Test. In the main, that's it and that's all - radio was rubbish, apart from John Peel's programme (lord, I miss you, John - why do the good die young.). If you liked pop music, you were glued to the former, and if you had heard about Captain Beefheart, you tried to stay awake for the latter, while revising for your chemistry mock O-level or similar.
Here's a typical Saturday for a burgeoning muso in those days. Cornflakes and BBC Radio Four news, which may even have still been called 'The Home Service'. Denim flares and wedge heels on, or maybe loon pants .... RAF greatcoat ..... off into town to flick through all the albums in the racks of some six or seven music stores.
OK, this isn't me, but it's reminiscent:
Boots and Woolworths used to sell records, fer crissake. There were specialist stores that would get in US imports .... you could come across amazing things by accident. It was an education.
My significant other has reminded me that some of these stores would have booths where you could listen to a track or two off the album you were thinking of buying. They even allowed you to go into the booths in pairs - it was a more innocent time. And you could smoke a fag in there. I can remember when the whole world reeked of Embassy No. 1's. When I moved to London for my one year at Imperial College studying phsyics before I was rusticated, I remember flicking through the racks at Virgin Records in Notting Hill. I may even have seen the sainted Mr. Branson on one of those Saturdays, but obviously I couldn't distinguish him from the other bearded hippies and sundry oddballs behind the counter.
And of course you would buy your copy of New Musical Express, which had amazing, amusing and informative articles about groups like The Ramones or John Macloughlin or Sun Ra or The Incredible String Band. Robert Fripp would be advertising courses in 'Guitar mechanics' in the small ads. Warner Brothers would be taking out double page spreads to advertise their latest hopeful supergroup, who would never be heard of again. Money was sprayed into the industry like nobody's business.
And now, we've come to this. Amazon, iTunes, and Spotify. Bands unable to fund their careers and albums, unless they tour themselves to death in grotty venues. I despair. We NEED music. Popular music has kept me going, when all around has looked dark. Look, I'm OK now, and I want to give something back so that there's something left for the future. But I don't think online and download is the way to go. It's not a community thing. In Kingston, we have one proper record store left. Banquet Records. They have racks you can flick through, they support local groups through events and displays and instore promotions, they know about what's going on. I want their babies. (OK, Ed, rein it in a little.)
Right, I no longer know where I'm going with this piece, so that's an indication that I should end it here. Hey, I'm not being paid to do this, so I can do what the hell I like. So good to be free of The Man.
Saturday, 29 December 2012
'Ruby - with jigs' by 'Doubting Herons'
This is my niece Lauren Dempsey, singing 'Ruby' with the group 'Doubting Herons'. (Click on the photo to open a SoundCloud window.... hopefully .... )
It's folk music. You couldn't get much more folky unless you knit your own muesli. But it's modern folk - and isn't it nice to know that people are still writing songs in a great tradition?
After the song, there are some jigs with accordion accompaniment. Feel free to jig around in your room - nobody is watching.
Again, one of the reasons I like this is because of Lauren's wonderful accent. Listen out for the words 'front', 'phone' and so on. I am not being disrespectful, I genuinely like a broad Derby accent. I was born in Derby too, but my own accent is bland and boring; I probably watched and listened to too much BBC.
It's folk music. You couldn't get much more folky unless you knit your own muesli. But it's modern folk - and isn't it nice to know that people are still writing songs in a great tradition?
After the song, there are some jigs with accordion accompaniment. Feel free to jig around in your room - nobody is watching.
Again, one of the reasons I like this is because of Lauren's wonderful accent. Listen out for the words 'front', 'phone' and so on. I am not being disrespectful, I genuinely like a broad Derby accent. I was born in Derby too, but my own accent is bland and boring; I probably watched and listened to too much BBC.
Saturday, 22 December 2012
Yet all I want for Xmas is Neil Young's new CD
I can't resist posting up more stuff about Neil Young.
Good god, the man just doesn't stop creating. If I were a Neil Young completist, I could have spent my whole life tracking down vinyl, films, videos, cassettes, CDs, DVDs .....
Anyway, as I mentioned in my last post, Neil claims to be clean and sober, and has just released a double CD entitled 'Psychedelic Pill'. Well, that didn't give me much confidence (although his titles have never been less than obscure), but tonight I have just come across 'Ramada Inn'. It's a long track - is a 16 minute tune ever going to get play on Radio One or XFM? I think not - but it's fully justified. As is the video, below.
Try and watch some before you flit away. The found footage is wonderful, and appropriate. The song itself seems so simple, but if you are of a certain age and experience it is hard to listen to. Thankfully he spaces the verses with some classic guitar solos - toning down the aggression he obviously loves into something more expressive and elegaic. And how can his voice still sound as it did?
Neil Young and Crazy Horse. Yes, there are many musicians with more technical mastery, and more bands that are pushing at the envelope .... but few have made more people happier, for longer, than this little crew.
[Later - 27/12/12:]
The man is a 24 carat, first water, primo quality, appelation controlee genius. I have just come across his other recent album 'Americana', which contains the most unpromising list of traditional folk song and other well-known titles I have ever seen. He just waves his hand over them, and they become magic. You have never heard the phrase; "And I come from Alabama with my B-A-N-J-O on my knee!" in quite the same way as Neil phrases it ....
And this illustrates how he puts his music together. Basically, it is mostly recorded live, which is why his live shows are so wildly successful. If you stick with it to the end, you will hear the banter as Crazy Horse discuss the tune.
[Later and even later - 27/12/12:]
No, I can't let it go at that. The video to 'Oh Susannah' is a rare find. Look at the careworn faces of the parents - and I bet they are not even into their late forties. Look at the pudding bowl haircut of the tap dancing boy. Look at the smudges on the little girl's face. Look at the older child slumped against the timber wall. These are real people - I would love to know where and how it was made, and what the father is playing on his banjo. We don't know we're born.
[More later - 30/12/12:]
I have been trying to research the video that goes with 'Oh Susannah', without much success. But on the way I did find this - someone posted it up as a song that sounds similar, and the video is equally of its time (1970s). I can remember this tune; isn't that frightening?
OK, they're miming, and I think a session musician was brought in to do the guitar break .... but why in god's name are they doing this in front of an animal cage in some kind of menagerie?! It took me a couple of views to confirm this .... that's a chimpanzee hanging on the wire, isn't it?
Good god, the man just doesn't stop creating. If I were a Neil Young completist, I could have spent my whole life tracking down vinyl, films, videos, cassettes, CDs, DVDs .....
Anyway, as I mentioned in my last post, Neil claims to be clean and sober, and has just released a double CD entitled 'Psychedelic Pill'. Well, that didn't give me much confidence (although his titles have never been less than obscure), but tonight I have just come across 'Ramada Inn'. It's a long track - is a 16 minute tune ever going to get play on Radio One or XFM? I think not - but it's fully justified. As is the video, below.
Try and watch some before you flit away. The found footage is wonderful, and appropriate. The song itself seems so simple, but if you are of a certain age and experience it is hard to listen to. Thankfully he spaces the verses with some classic guitar solos - toning down the aggression he obviously loves into something more expressive and elegaic. And how can his voice still sound as it did?
Neil Young and Crazy Horse. Yes, there are many musicians with more technical mastery, and more bands that are pushing at the envelope .... but few have made more people happier, for longer, than this little crew.
[Later - 27/12/12:]
The man is a 24 carat, first water, primo quality, appelation controlee genius. I have just come across his other recent album 'Americana', which contains the most unpromising list of traditional folk song and other well-known titles I have ever seen. He just waves his hand over them, and they become magic. You have never heard the phrase; "And I come from Alabama with my B-A-N-J-O on my knee!" in quite the same way as Neil phrases it ....
And this illustrates how he puts his music together. Basically, it is mostly recorded live, which is why his live shows are so wildly successful. If you stick with it to the end, you will hear the banter as Crazy Horse discuss the tune.
[Later and even later - 27/12/12:]
No, I can't let it go at that. The video to 'Oh Susannah' is a rare find. Look at the careworn faces of the parents - and I bet they are not even into their late forties. Look at the pudding bowl haircut of the tap dancing boy. Look at the smudges on the little girl's face. Look at the older child slumped against the timber wall. These are real people - I would love to know where and how it was made, and what the father is playing on his banjo. We don't know we're born.
[More later - 30/12/12:]
I have been trying to research the video that goes with 'Oh Susannah', without much success. But on the way I did find this - someone posted it up as a song that sounds similar, and the video is equally of its time (1970s). I can remember this tune; isn't that frightening?
OK, they're miming, and I think a session musician was brought in to do the guitar break .... but why in god's name are they doing this in front of an animal cage in some kind of menagerie?! It took me a couple of views to confirm this .... that's a chimpanzee hanging on the wire, isn't it?
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