Drive in Saturday

My ears were still buzzing from Beth Jeans Houghton when I woke on Saturday. When I am reborn I will devote my life to good sound and ridding the world of bad engineers. Bands and musicians from across the globe will queue for my services and I will walk in the holy slippers of Brian Eno.

The sun was out and with a spring in my step I sped into town to do some radio. I’ve really missed doing the show and simply couldn’t wait to see what was in store. I arrived to find Kathy busy loading packages in readiness, and after a quick look at the script and running order we were off and live. Kathy is a consummate professional so to be able to participate and contribute to the show in any way is a real honour and this week was my most involved yet. My interview with Mark Eitzel was aired, I programmed the bulk of the music played and due to the late arrival of a guest I was also interviewed about the MindOut Human Library Project which you can learn more about here -
http://blog.zhooshbrighton.co.uk/2012/09/16/be-part-of-a-human-library-a-movement-for-social-change/

On the way back to the car I spied a video copy of the classic Frank Capra movie ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ sitting on a brick wall. Although surreal it seemed totally apt and a sign from the heavens.
I stood and looked at the sleeve and ticked off all the treasures with which I am blessed. Health, good friends, half a loving family, a full larder, a job, a great sex life and a world stuffed full of sonic wonders. It is indeed a wonderful life J

As I drove east to the House of Pygar the song Drive in Saturday emerged through the clouds of my consciousness like an old friend. It was conceived as Bowie toured America riding the crest of the Ziggy Stardust wave in 1972 and was originally written for Mott the Hoople as a follow up to All the Young Dudes, but the boys turned it down. Bowie recounts that he was so annoyed he got drunk and shaved off his eyebrows in protest. Perhaps that’s also why Bowie pulled out all the stops to make his version the masterpiece that it is. The song can be found on Aladdin Sane which is basically Bowie writing postcards from the USA. Like anyone visiting for the first time he was enthralled by the place and its familiarity thanks to power of Hollywood. It was the first Bowie album I queued up to buy and I remember walking past WH Smiths daily to look at a huge 5’ by 5’ blow up of the Brian Duffy designed sleeve which heralded release day. It was the start of my most enduring love affair.

 

I remember watching this performance vividly as my father squirmed on the chair opposite. That made it even better.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vDcyJ9fhVcg

Let me put my arms
around your head
Gee, it's hot, let's go to bed
Don't forget to turn on the light
Don't laugh babe, it'll be alright
Pour me out another phone
I'll ring and see
if your friends are home
Perhaps the strange ones in the dome
Can lend us a book we can read up alone

 

 

 

 

 

I spent the afternoon with one of my blessings, beautiful Amanda, who never ceases to amaze, enthrall, amuse and delight me. I have asked her to marry me, so watch this space. We sat in the last rays of September sunshine talking about boys, love, housework and pumpkins as the chickens scrambled for the sweetcorn I would occasionally jetison across the garden.

 

 

 

 

Monday morning feels so bad
Everybody seems to nag me
Comin' Tuesday I'll feel better
Even my old man looks good
Wednesday just won't go
Thursday goes too slow
I've got Friday on my mind

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=idS9P2OeYLU

I awoke on Friday feeling a bit sleep deprived but with a strange urge to get a haircut at Vance and Tasha’s so I showered, dressed and strolled over. They are my barber of choice and luckily situated just across the road from where I live. Today the place was rammed but I was happy to wait, watch and listen to the action. I’ve grown to love the rough and ready parlour with its lines of white van men, labourers and octogenarians, curling snakes of dead hair and whiff of testosterone. There’s usually music playing and the bluest of jokes on offer courtesy of Tasha. Their political incorrectness is a guilty pleasure and pure joy to the ears. Today the music was Cliff Richard, but the early stuff so not too bad. When ‘Living Doll’ came on the room literally lit up with a lightning bolt of recognition, and with Vance leading on the chorus everybody including myself joined in.

Newspapers dropping

Heads pitching
Ears twitching
Mouths opening
Crying, talking
Sleeping, walking
Living doll

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZzgDlVVIl9I

I left feeling suitably trimmed carrying a Sainsbury’s bag full of dead hair to scatter across the garden to deter the fox menace. Tasha told me that the best way was to stuff tights and hang these from posts, so Amanda was immediately texted with a request for an old pair. Her response was ‘Dirty boy, of course love’ - clearly under the impression that I had arranged some new sex game. She knows me so well J

I decided to wait for the tights so after a quick hello to the girls I instead pottered whilst compiling a playlist for Saturday’s radio show. One track that has become a firm favourite and an instant jump about tune is ‘Reagan’s Skeleton’ by Yeasayer and this was duly selected to play out the programme. Here it is for your enjoyment unless you suffer from arachnophobia, in which case, just listen.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RrwUkEMmKZY

Later, feeling stir crazy, I wandered out to scope a new shop selling retro chic called Seagreaves that has sprung up mysteriously on Dorothy Avenue. Bizarrely instead of a nice piece of glass or a lamp I ended up leaving with a chipped but still beautiful old toilet bowl. This has now been stationed in my bathroom as a planter. I researched the maker when I returned home and to my surprise discovered that it had been manufactured in South Africa. I have therefore called it James as he hailed from the area and deserves no less an accolade. When I sit opposite on my modern throne and take a shit I will think of him J

 

 

In the evening I sped into town to see Beth Jeans Houghton and the Hooves of Destiny at the Haunt. It was a great show despite the ear splitting volume and Neanderthal sound engineer and fun was had by all. Her debut ‘Yours Truly, Cellophane Nose’ has become a firm favourite of 2012 and here’s her new single and video for your dilection.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ImiWoDQIOf4

 

 

Last night I dreamed of dodecahedrons

My eyes were bleeding with crimson sight
I tried with all my might to release them
These golden demons may they take flight

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life is full of drains; be a radiator

Thursday was bookended by two lovely men called Mike. The younger one, also known as Dave when on a crime scene, pitched up about 11 to help mould my Mark Eitzel interview into something worthy of broadcast. But before we got started the girls were introduced, and pretty soon Patti was eating out of Mike’s hand. She’ll do anything for sweet corn. After that, a hearty breakfast and the pleasure of eating fresh laid eggs, still warm to the touch, courtesy of my beloveds. Six have been produced in 3 days J

 

The next few hours were spent listening to my interview with Mr Eitzel over and over, tweaking the sound, deleting repetitions and the awkward pauses. The result will be broadcast live on Saturday’s Out in Brighton show (97.2FM) alongside a track from the lovely man’s new record ‘Don’t be a Stranger’ which hit the shelves on the 24^th September. It’s been on repeat in my car all week and I’m glad to report that it’s a fine piece of work which deserves to do well.  The promotion for the record has been an inspired departure from the video. Instead a series of short films have been made in which Mark receives career advice from various entertainment gurus. The latest hilarious instalment features the wisdom of DJ Foodcourt and you can see it here.

http://vimeo.com/48034131

Job done, I headed into civilisation to meet Mike the elder for catch up, gossip, rant and mull in time honoured fashion. We met at Délice Café on the corner of Kensington Gardens which has become a firm favourite of mine after being introduced to me by the divine Carina AKA amazing super Swede sex kitten. As usual the coffee was robust but smooth, the cakes melt in the mouth and the conversation stimulating and peppered with laughter. I told Mike about my financial woes and how on Tuesday I’d decided to fuck my own austerity measures up the arse and spend some money. After a summer of stress, angst, U turns and fall outs I felt like I deserved a treat. Life is too short and too difficult otherwise. So armed with a list I headed into town and bought records and concert tickets.

The show I’m most excited about next month is Efterklang at the Brighton Dome. They will showcase their latest offering ‘Piramida’ named after an abandoned Russian mining colony near the North Pole. I really love collaborations which stretch and weld genres and the band will take to a stage designed by Hvass & Hannibal and be joined by the Northern Sinfonia. Hvass I strongly recommend buying the album which traverses a tightrope of melancholia and hope to deliver something truly uplifting. Here’s a taste of the music & the sumptuous sleeve artwork and staging. Mike the elder was duly persuaded and we picked up a ticket right next to mine which was fortuetous.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qwgs5R97X4M

http://www.itsnicethat.com/articles/hvass-and-hannibal-efterklang

 

 

And the cherry on this musical cake will be support from John Grant who alone would be worth the price of admission. I will be tweeting feverishly over the coming weeks to try and get an interview with him for Out in Brighton, so watch this space. His last record ‘Queen of Denmark’ was by far and away my favourite of 2010 and I cannot wait to hear the follow up. Regular readers will also know that John is my fantasy boyfriend until I find a real one.

Here are a couple of musical treats showcasing the golden crooner. First up a lovely cover by John’s old band the Czars of the Connie Francis hit ‘Where the Boys Are.’ The second a clip of John joining Rumer to sing Patsy Cline’s ‘I Fall to Pieces.’ The latter signposted to me my lovely Boston chum David who is a legend and a gentleman.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j6xRoO_LVRE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qYsy0VV9Pw

 

 

 

This Must Be the Place

After a hearty breakfast topped with a double yolk egg courtesy of Joni, I drove into Brighton feeling truly blessed to be here, marvelling in the views from the coast road.  

Smoke stack clouds and the sea
Massive blue grey shot through with silver foil
White knuckle cliffs kissed by rainbows.

It was good to be alive and savour the free things in life.

On the way I listened to the new David Byrne/St. Vincent collaboration which is really rather good and succinctly pulls together the tangents of his career. The song ‘Who’ has become a firm favourite from the album and I love the circling horns and insistent strident pulse. Byrne is also a master of visuals and the video can be seen here http://vimeo.com/48153500

Who sees these constellations
Seen in those spinning round
Carry these men and women
Who get lost when the sun goes down?

 

I first saw Talking Heads play at the Electric Ballroom Camden Town in 1979. My friend Paul Necus persuaded me to go and I am forever in his debt. It was an amazing and intimate night and they were on fire. Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark where second on the bill with U2 bringing up the rear. Their name didn’t even make the poster bless their inflated egos.

At the time Talking Heads were in town to promote ‘More Songs about Buildings and Food’ which is a work of wonder. If you haven’t got it in your collection you should be ashamed as it’s a master class in song writing and a taste of the inventive wonders to come. Here’s a live recording of ‘Warning Sign’ which gives you some idea http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oq9K6cneRQA

 

 

I had the good fortune to meet David Byrne in San Francisco at a book signing. He’d just published ‘Your Action World’ a visual attack on corporate America. My friend Manuel came along for the ride but he waited outside feeling a little embarrassed if memory serves. I bought the book and joined a long queue. As I got closer to the man, a young woman patrolling the throng asked for my name, which she wrote on a post it and fixed to the cover. ‘It’s so David doesn’t have to ask’ she drawled.

I rolled my eyes in complete disdain but when it was my turn to meet him I realised the reason. He was simply painfully shy and struggled to look up at me as he mumbled hello and wrote ‘Harry – David Byrne’ on the book’s inner sleeve. I was a little disappointed and so decided to re join the queue and try again. Primed and ready, I did the talking and opened with a recollection of the Electric Ballroom show. This time he looked up with a wide grin and said he remembered the night fondly J  I was besotted with San Francisco so I asked him to write ‘This Must Be the Place’ on one of images of the city contained in the book. The song is a great favourite and one that signals my love for a place, a time or someone. The lines ‘I come home -she lifted up her wings. Guess that this must be the place’ makes me feel grounded, safe and warm.

 

Out of all those kinds of people
You got a face with a view

 I'm just an animal looking for a home
Share the same space for a minute or two
And you love me till my heart stops
Love me till I'm dead
Eyes that light up, eyes look through you

This version is taken from the movie ‘Stop Making Sense’ directed by Jonathan Demme. It’s wonderfully conceived and the finest concert movie ever made, showcasing the band at a creative peak. I saw it at a little independent Cambridge cinema in 1984 and remember dancing in the aisles with the rest of the audience - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cqg_ZGcuybs

 

6 days. 55 hours.

Saturday was an equinox. A time when the sun crosses the plane of the equator, making night and day equal length all over the Earth.

 

Maureen made it even more special by giving me her vinyl copy of ‘Free’ which she’d purchased in 1969. I was deeply touched by the gesture and will treasure the record and the love it bestows until I shuffle off. Maureen was lucky to see Free perform live, and to say that I’m jealous is simply an understatement. If there was a time machine I’d be at the front tasting their sweat. I was simply too young as they broke up in 1973 when I was just 14.

When I left the office on Saturday I felt akin to a mobile losing its charge, on the brink of exhaustion, flickering on the brink. As I floated home I pondered on what I’d write here and the song ‘Dead Man Walking’ bobbed to the surface. It’s a later Bowie piece which I’ve grown to love and despite borrowing heavily from the musical fashions of its moment, it still sounds fresh. This is one of the great man’s chief talents; his ability to borrow, re fashion and reinvent to create something timeless and magical. I also love the chaotic rainbow sunburst of the video.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wOZrGHmMl4o

I missed seeing Free by a year or so and my first gig was Hawkwind on the 30^th January 1975. They played the De Montfort Hall Leicester and I remember being persuaded to go by my school friend Kevin Shaul who was a massive fan. I can’t remember the music but I do recall a sea of denim and a gyrating topless dancer called Stacia who enlivened the droning cacophony. At the age of 15 I’d only imagined real breasts so seeing a set swinging around the stage was a revelation. No doubt I had an erection for the entire performance as sitting on a bus had that effect in those days.

 

 

There are times when I gasp in wonder at the power of the internet and its ability to reach back in time. To my amazement a bootleg recording of the show exists and I’m listening to it as I write. Here’s a taste for those who dare.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVk0ROgUPTU

Until the next time.

 

 

 

 

 

The days are getting shorter and my pumpkins adorn the yard like golden baubles on a Christmas tree. This is very apt as the creation of the 2012 CD has also begun. My playlist of new music has swollen to an impressive 626 tunes which over the coming months will be pruned down to 20 or so for the final cut. It’s become not only a tradition but a labour and gesture of love. You know who you are and it’s going to be a cracker. Anyways, it’s not Christmas yet so enough already.

 

Tuesday was a tough 12 hour day and I was glad to get home, be alone, and settle in front of the TV. Essential viewing at the moment is the Great British Bake Off which thanks to Mel and Sue is a marvel. It astonishes me that a cookery competition can be such gripping viewing but I think that’s down to the contestants who are such lovely people. My current favourite is the marvellously wry John Waite who suffered the set back of a sliced finger this week but has lived to bake another day. He can butter my buns anytime and long may his flour be self-raising.

 

I had the enormous pleasure of meeting Mel and Sue many times when I worked at the old Komedia in Manchester Street. They were always warm and fun to be around and lacking in any artifice. My theory is that the really talented people are generally nice but the ones without much to work with are the vipers. I remember one afternoon particularly well. I was cleaning and stocking the bar in readiness for show that night and Sue appeared for a cup of tea which she took to a quiet corner. At the time they’d recently been commissioned to write for the French and Saunders show.

What do you think of this?

I wandered over and peered down at the spaghetti of doodles and scrawl.

I was thinking of Dawn French; doing that Bjork number- the one on the truck in New York.

Big Time Sensuality you mean?

Yes that’s the one

Genius

 I’m sure Bjork laughed along with the rest of us J

http://www.myspace.com/video/jason/french-saunder-bjork-video/2336527

 Another highlight this week was sitting down to watch ‘Last Shop Standing’ which charts the rise and fall of the independent record shop. About a year ago I came across a flyer in Resident Records alongside a plea for funding and decided to donate £25 to the project. To my amazement my name is listed in the credits as a result. Like book stores independents are becoming an endangered species thanks to supermarkets and the culture of downloads. I spent many an afternoon in my formative years in record stores and my ear was refined by the experience. I would browse for hours and examine record sleeves whilst drifting in and out of the listening booths. One thing would lead me to another and this organic chancing remains my springboard to new discoveries to this day. Set me down in Amoeba Records in San Francisco and you won’t see me for days but your ears will be happy when I emerge.

 

http://lastshopstanding.com/

 

Richard Hawley is featured in the movie and I was lucky enough to see the great man live only last night at the Brighton Dome. His new album is a departure from the crooning old school romantic of the last few records and has a rougher psychedelic edge of which I wholeheartedly approve.

 

 

This title track from the new record concerns an area of Sheffield called Sky’s Edge which a century ago was home to gang warfare and gambling. Here it’s used as a metaphor for the state of modern Britain, and a ‘government using the recession to force through politics that will put us back 125 years’ to quote Mr. Hawley himself.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zileXIdVc00

 

They were standing at the sky's edge,
And out there who knows what they're thinking.
They were sliding down the razor's edge
And watched their lives slowly sinking,
Away, away, away, away, away.

The song was a highlight of the show thanks to Richard’s first class guitar playing. His love of the instrument was clearly demonstrated by the range featured and after one number someone shouted out ‘what guitar was that’ to be duly advised that the beauty in question was a Les Paul Gold Top. The late Paul Kossoff immediately sprang to my mind because this alongside other Les Pauls was a favourite of the great man.

 

Free were an obsession of mine in the early 70s and hugely influential on my emerging taste. There was far more to them than ‘All Right Now’ and great depth to their writing. This could swagger with the best or switch to tenderness with ease and although they were all virtuosos the glue that bound the four sticks together was the pleading vibrato of Paul Kossoff’s guitar. I would play all four sides of the ‘Free Story’ whilst playing along with my tennis racket. To this day, this is the only use I have ever found for such a thing. Anyway, here they are.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S34C_b3Ufrg

 

I heard of Paul’s death in 1976 whilst at Sixth Form College and promptly burst into tears. He was just 25 and lost to drugs. For me he sang with his guitar displaying the emotion, resonance and feeling of an Al Green or Marvin Gaye. There was no showing off or dazzling speed, just his soul singing.

The track 'Mr Big' was a live favourite and showcases the great strengths of the band. Paul Rodgers growling soul voice, Andy Fraser’s melodic bass, Simon Kirke’s rock steady foundation and the man with the Les Paul Gold Top.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Azkef2lXW88&feature=related

RIP Paul Kossoff - 14 September 1950 – 19 March 1976

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s Sunday and my day has already been made by the production of an egg. After all the weeks of death and carnage surrounding the coop it was a sight as welcome as February daffodils. Patti has been crouching submissively recently which I've observed is usually the sign of transition from girl to woman in chicken circles so I suspect it to be her work. I transported the oval treasure to the kitchen, still warm, and poached it immediately. Little things make all the difference it seems. 

 

'Lightning Strikes’ has just shuffled and seems apt in light of the exchange with ‘M’ last night.
I suspect nothing will come of it as he’s already gone to ground. A few months will now pass and then I’ll randomly receive a picture he’s taken in the toilet during his lunch break. This is the pattern but last night’s dialogue had an altogether different character so what does that mean?  Only time will tell but ‘M’ is one of those souls who found his way in and cushioned my heart for a few weeks at least. Once you’ve loved someone, it never goes away. However hard you try.

Listen to me, baby, you got to understand

You're old enough to learn the makings of a man.

Listen to me, baby, it's time to settle down.
Am I asking too much for you to stick around?

Lightning's striking again! Lightning's striking again!
Lightning's striking again! Lightning's striking again!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gma5IUNMTn0

Klaus Nomi was one of those wonderfully eccentric performers who grace the world periodically. Of Bavarian descent he landed in the NYC underground in the 1970s where he crossed paths with David Bowie. Lightnin’ Strikes was a US # 1 for Lou Christie in 1965 so one can only speculate on how Klaus came to record it but I love his version. Sadly Klaus never achieved the same giddy heights of fame and succumbed to AIDS in August 1983. So many mavericks were lost in those dark days and one can only speculate on the landscape that would now exist if they’d stayed with us.

 

 

 

I love this clip of Bowie performing ‘TVC15’ flanked by Klaus and NYC performance artist Joey Arias on Saturday Night Live. It’s one of the many TV performances Bowie has given over the years which I’m sure have bemused and inspired in equal measure. Lord knows what America’s viewing public thought J

http://vimeo.com/40895664

And here’s the wonderful Joey Arias looking a million dollars and talking about that performance at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London on the 28 October 2011.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lJ3n-ifiyiE

'M’ and I met online and as he was coming to Pride we swapped numbers. He had travelled from Watford and we agreed to meet by the Wild Fruit tent. It was like getting three pears on a slot machine and I was immediately drawn to his lithe, olive skinned, brown eyed swagger. However, he seemed pretty uninterested and after ten minutes of awkward conversation we said our goodbyes. A text revealed that he was in fact very interested and we arranged to reconvene outside the Ranelagh on St James’s Street where the agenda switched to frisky flirtation. It wasn’t long before we were being driven east by my angel Amanda who had chaperoned me that day. I won’t go into sordid details but the 24 hours that followed was punctuated by laughter, music and lots of sex. My strongest recollection is of lying entwined with my hand on his firm belly as I drifted in and out of blissful sleep.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8k8AVQAfwvE

35 years ago today Marc Bolan died when the mini his wife Gloria Jones was driving hit a Sycamore tree. He died instantly two weeks before his 30^th birthday. All the great and good of the day attended his funeral including his biggest rival David Bowie. The two had met early in their respective careers and became lifelong friends. They once shared the same manager and Bowie recollects that the pair would scour the dustbins of Carnaby Street for discarded clothes before fame struck. I was a fan of Bolan before I discovered Bowie and in many respects he set the scene for the thin white duke to sweep all before him. My love of Bolan peaked with the single Metal Guru which if memory serves entered the chart at #1 during the summer of 1972. That year my mother had saved the princely sum of £50 to allow me to go on a two week school cruise of the Mediterranean and the song transports me back to a stormy night sailing through the Bay of Biscay. I remember dancing to the song with my first ‘girlfriend’ Karen Tansley whilst the ship pitched up and down like a bucking horse. We were in our moment and oblivious to the piles of vomit and discarded sick bags that littered the scene. Later that night we crept out and found a quiet spot behind a winch on the deck so that we could be alone. I remember like it was yesterday feeling her tiny budding breasts and trying to kiss her before being interrupted by the probing torch of gym teacher Mr Henderson. No probing for me that night J

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zfjAEWHrFvo
 

Metal guru, is it you?

Metal guru, is it you?

Sitting there in your armour plated chair

 

Metal guru, is it true?

Metal guru, is it true?
All alone without a telephone

Metal guru could it be

You're gonna bring my baby to me

She'll be wild you know

A rock 'n' roll child

Metal guru has it been
Just like a silver-studded sabre-tooth dream

I'll be clean you know

Pollution machine

 

 

I was in a London pub the night Marc died and I remember being very dismissive at the time. Of course as the years have passed I’ve learnt the errors of my ways and realised what an amazing performer and writer he was. This clip is from the TV show Marc which was recorded just weeks before he died. Bowie had appeared on the programme to sing Heroes and they played out the show together.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRR05ImHQqA

 

RIP Marc Bolan.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8k8AVQAfwvE