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One day in 1937 a man and a woman walked past the studio building or towards it. This couple was with or without friends and knew the people with them or they were strangers. It was either a lovely day or a miserable one and they were both either quiet or loud as they approached the registry office in Parade Street, Penzance. They weren’t to know that around 60 years later, the In Deep Music Archive and The VIP Lounge studio would be in the building next door to where they were married. They walked past the beautiful old Captain’s House opposite what would become the prefab building of complaints, on their way to the subtropical Morrab Gardens, or they didn’t go there that day, though unlikely. Dylan might have turned to Caitlin and promised that they would have three children, Llewelyn, Aeronwy and Colm, sadly, now even they are gone. After Dylan’s untimely death in November 1953 at the age of 39 in New York City, Caitlin would finally write a memoir with the evocative title Leftover Life To Kill that would be used by Australian band The Paradise Motel as an album title (I wish I’d stolen it first).

At school we would be told about a famous Welsh poet that died too young who wrote ‘a play for voices’ called Under Milk Wood. We would read it out loud in English Literature class and we would eventually hear it read by famous actors like Richard Burton, another famous Welshman. In 1974 a band called King Crimson would release an album called Starless And Bible Black, the line taken directly from the beginning of the book.

“It is Spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobble streets silent and the hunched, courters’-and- rabbits’ wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboat-bobbing sea. The houses are blind as moles (though moles see fine to-night in the snouting, velvet dingles) or blind as Captain Cat there in the muffled middle by the pump and the town clock, the shops in mourning, the Welfare Hall in widows’ weeds. And all the people of the lulled and dumbfound town are sleeping now.”

It seems strangely appropriate for Dylan to describe this place such as he has as we rest here in Penzance, the town in which he got married. It lies next to another place nearby that he oft frequented – Mousehole, (pronounced Mausl) that fits his description as it may a Welsh village, surely even more perfectly. In Laugharne where he lived intermittently until his untimely death, there he lies buried, his body returned from the Americas, next to his wife who lived till 80 and was also returned from Sicily where she passed away.

So where does Under Milk Wood’s fictional Llareggub lie exactly? (Which by the way is ‘Bugger All’ backwards). Is it somewhere between Mousehole and Laugharne? Or is it New Quay in Wales? It’s not the more famous Cornwall version, the surf capital of Cornwall. On our holidays as a child we would visit New Quay frequently. I’d look over the Cardigan Bay, swim in the sea, frequent the sandy beaches. Once there I found a giant dead crab and showed it off to strangers. There was a cafe with a lovely Welsh lady called Bethan who was always so kind to our family. Her husband taught me how to kill flies with a plastic spoon, hovering over them, still as a frightened mouse, bending the spoon back and letting it go, the action too fast for the usually quick fly to escape. It is said that this is the place where Under Milk Wood was mostly written and possibly as much the model for the village of Llareggub as anywhere. But when I hear about Dylan’s visits to Mousehole and read that passage from Under Milk Wood, I wonder.

In 1973 Benjamin Orzechowski and Richard Theodore Otcasek, future members of The Cars, would form the band Milkwood, Greg Hawkes, future Cars keyboard player, would also play on the album. In 1962 Robert Zimmerman would release his first album, but in doing so would change his name to reflect a literary hero. Inspired by the poem, A Child’s Christmas in Wales, ex Velvet Underground member and professional Welshman, John Cale, would open perhaps his most famous solo album, Paris 1919 (1973) with the song Child’s Christmas in Wales.

I find inspiration in contrasts, contradictions, opposites. I find great work where it’s not supposed to be and even lesser work in high places. A slight mention of Surf in Newquay, Cornwall, might look like some kind of pointer, but it came way after The Beach Boys albums were spinning their way across the turntable.

Between 1966 and 1973 The Beach Boys released 8 albums, some of which despite their quality and due to trends at the time were their worst selling records. Most probably like The Bee Gees albums post sixties and pre high wasted pants falsetto. These albums were:

Pet Sounds – 1966
Smiley Smile – 1967
Wild Honey – 1967
Friends – 1968
20/20 – 1969
Sunflower – 1970
Surf’s Up – 1971
Carl And The Passions – 1972
Holland – 1973

Throughout these records are amazing songs, unbelievable harmonies, groundbreaking production, huge hits and ignored masterpieces, but all post their Surf band image and reputation, the turning point being Pet Sounds. It’s up to you to find this out for yourself, or not. And then there’s Smile. In 2012 they reformed as well as they could with Brian Wilson, Al Jardine, Bruce Johnston, Mike Love and David Marks, to make That’s Why God Made The Radio. Sadly by this time both Carl Wilson and Dennis Wilson had died. Ignore The Beach Boys’ genius at your peril.

Song Of The Day is High As A Kite from the first Noctorum album, Sparks Lane (2003), in celebration of the days I could reach the higher notes in the Pop tunes.

 

High As A Kite

Doesn’t mean that I have lost the feeling
I just wound up sitting in the car
Then I went home and stared up at the ceiling
Thinking everything had gone too far

But oh oh I am so lonely
And oh oh I wish you’d phone me

There’s rain outside as I look out the window
There’s people with umbrellas in the street
But through the dark the sun is almost shining
The thunderclouds have started their retreat

But oh oh I’m feeling better
Oh oh I, I’m going to come and get ya

High as a kite for you
Everything is gonna be alright
Try as I might for you
Something’s wrong and I can’t make it right

I touch your hand and lay there in the silence
I think I only want you when you’re gone
Sometimes I just feel like we are islands
We’ve both been marooned for too long

But oh oh why this confusion
Oh oh I’m disillusioned

High as a kite for you
Everything is gonna be alright
Try as I might for you
Something’s wrong and I can’t make it right

(High as a kite)
High as a kite but something isn’t right
(High as a kite)
Try as I might I can’t get it right

High as a kite for you
Everything is gonna be alright
Try as I might for you
Something’s wrong and I can’t make it right

(Everything will be alright)

(Willson-Piper / Mason)
Noctorum – Sparks Lane (2003)

Today we found out that we can go out. We can sunbathe (but aren’t we in England?). Restrictions lifted for daily exercise (we need to exercise?) and we can drive to beauty spots (they’re giving us a car?). All this depends on decreasing numbers of infection and death due to the virus. On June 1st they are talking about opening the shops and the schools, on July 1st pubs and restaurants. But what happens if the deaths and infections increase? Can the country/the world stay closed? Answers on a postcard.

Also today we got our first noise complaint in nearly 20 years. A note from the flats opposite the studio building complaining about the “base” and constant “boom boom”. Signed with the threat to call the council if it doesn’t stop, by Anonymous. Obviously not written in the spirit of cooperation, we wonder what is happening to people. How about talking to us? It’s really sad how you can bring up something that is bothering you without any attempt to solve the issue before the threat. Is this how we evolve as people? Well at least we’re in good company (you can listen to this play out on the Abbey Rd outtakes album):

“With their amps turned up high, The Beatles received a noise complaint from one of the studio’s neighbours in the Soho area of the city. The take starts with Lennon exclaiming, “My boys are ready to go!” before the band is told about the complaint. Lennon replies, “What are they doing here at this time of night?” then lays it down: “Well, we’ll try it once more very loud. And then if we don’t get it, we’ll try it quiet, like it might do it the other way. OK. The loud one, last go. Last chance to be loud!”

Once I was playing at the Fillmore in San Francisco and after arriving at soundcheck the in-house crew informed us that it was crucial that we keep the back stage doors and loading bay doors at the back of the building closed at all times. Residents in the newer buildings were complaining, even about soundcheck in mid-afternoon. Who moves to spitting distance of The Fillmore and complains about noise? I’ve heard this story many times. In Portobello Road residents were complaining about the market traders setting up early in the morning, something they have done for over 100 years. When venues are closing down because of an angry resident who lives in the thick of an area, that is the part of town with clubs, bars and venues, you wonder about the mindset. You may remember the story of Paul McCartney and Bruce Springsteen performing together and going over curfew (just) at Hyde Park. The organizers pulled the plug before they could thank the crowd of 65,000 people – they did it to comply with their license which ends the show at 11.30PM in order to protect the local residents. If you can afford to live that close to an occasional concert in Hyde Park then you could afford artists’ flexibility in running times. The world has gone mad.

In America I have fallen foul of these kinds of laws on a couple of occasions. Once in LA at the House Of Blues when I both smoked and drank, I was in the main room waiting for soundcheck with a cigarette (I presume it was a cigarette) and a bottle of beer. The venue was closed. A rather rude and heavy looking ungentleman said “You can’t smoke in here” so I went to the back door and stepped outside. He followed me and without a hint of irony said “You can’t drink outside”. So I straddled the line at the door between the inside and the outside with my smoke in my left hand and my beer in my right so neither were breaking the rules. He was a little perplexed as to what to do as I wasn’t breaking any rules but was definitely showing some serious attitude.

Okay, these poor employees are just doing their jobs but as Barry McGuire said in his classic rendition of P.F. Sloane’s Eve Of Destruction, “You’re old enough to kill but not for votin’”. Aren’t some rules archaic or obviously ridiculous? In America you can buy a shotgun or rifle at 18 but not a beer till your 21. The argument is that people kill people, not guns. But in a country that has tens of thousands of gun deaths a year, that theory isn’t really working, is it? Here’s a disturbing statistic:

In 2017, gun deaths reached their highest level since 1968 with 39,773 deaths by firearm, of which 23,854 were by suicide and 14,542 were homicides. The rate of firearm deaths per 100,000 people rose from 10.3 per 100,000 in 1999 to 12 per 100,000 in 2017, with 109 people dying per day. In Canada the rate is 1.8 homicides per 100,000 people, a country that also has a lot of guns, they just don’t shoot each other so much. Due to the last mass shooting in Canada, Trudeau has banned the sale of 1,500 types of assault weapons. Can you even believe that there are that many variations? At the beginning of this month he said, “These weapons were designed for one purpose and one purpose only – only to kill the largest amount of people in the shortest amount of time. You don’t need an AR-15 to bring down a deer”.

I don’t really need to post statistics from other Western countries, but I must say I wasn’t aware and was shocked by the amount of suicide gun deaths in America each year.

It was very confusing to the Prog fans when Kansas cancelled their European tour in 2017 because “Europe was too dangerous”. It seems that it’s not really a debate you can have with someone with opposing views, so please, I don’t need a response that justifies this madness, let’s beg to differ till you grow a brain (that’s not going to be blown out of your head with an AR -15).

Today was a mega sessions and studio today. Tony making progress with his EP in Sydney, more on that as studio time grows nearer. Rajan in Brooklyn and Joanne in Portland prolific as ever, trying to find the process that leads from idea to release and Doug near Woodstock who’ll be playing there at this rate.

Space Summit had me playing a little bass, tambourine and bongos, perhaps those bongos were that annoying “boom boom”. There is a ground floor flat in the building opposite that always has a glaring bright light on and no curtains, I wonder why they wouldn’t be bothered by that?

Music today was trying to find solace in old faithfuls after a trying day of complaints and a busy day of music. I also recommended this album to Doug. It’s Argus by Wishbone Ash from 1972, a seventies classic with great songs and harmonies and lovely twin guitars.

Yesterday in a session with Brian in Florida, Yes came up, so that seemed like a cosy listen and so I dug out Fragile (1971). Never gets old. Great artwork, a Progressive classic.

But then a change of mood in Barry McGuire’s 1965 hit album Eve Of Destruction with its topical self-titled P.F. Sloan penned No.1 single. Sloan wrote hits for Herman’s Hermits (A Must To Avoid), Grass Roots, The Turtles, Mamas And The Papas, The Searchers. He wrote Secret Agent Man for Johnny Rivers that became the theme tune for Patrick McGoohan’s Danger Man, precursor to The Prisoner. His real name was Phillip Gary Schlien (the F stood for Flip). Jimmy Webb wrote a tribute song called, wait for it, P.F. Sloan in 1970. (Covered by Rumer in 2012.)

Twelve More Times was P.F. Sloan’s second album, released in 1966, Measure For Pleasure was his third album, released in 1968. Meaningful songs of the period that stand strong today. Somehow Tim Buckley, Harry Chapin, Don McClean, Gordon Lightfoot’s careers had more longevity probably because of hit songs written by them or recorded by others. In Tim Buckley’s case interest was revived due to Jeff’s genius and tragedy. McClean and Lightfoot will always be remembered by somebody for their classic hits, American Pie and Vincent and If You Could Read My Mind, The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald and the Dylan covered Early Mornin’ Rain and Tim Hardin for Reason To Believe and If I Were A Carpenter. Chapin for WOLD, Taxi, Cats In The Cradle. But as Dylan gets the Nobel prize, Dave Van Ronk (known as the Mayor Of MacDougal street and a Dylan influence), Phil Ochs and hundreds more wonderful singer-songwriters, Folk singers, protest singers, need to have their spirits kept alive and like them P.F. Sloan demands your attention. Highly recommended. (And don’t forget John Prine who died of corona!)

Song Of The Day is Song For Victor Jara in appreciation of protest against insanity. This concept is of course subjective, but ask yourself this – Why are scientists trying to trick The Flat Earth Society into thinking the Earth is round?

 

Song For Victor Jara

If these walls could speak
Of the things that you done
Behind metal doors
The beast you’ve become

With your pliers and chains
And a gun in your hand
But I’d rather die
Than to kneel in the sand

Hear my song, sing along
Hear my song

History
Will condemn you I know
For my blood is wine
Though my agony’s slow

Every scar
That you tear in my face
Is a river of life
For the whole human race

Hear my song, sing along
Hear my song

Hail the light
Hail the kiss of your fist
I am laughing/crying out loud
As you’re breaking my wrist

You will live in fear
Because there’s thousands like me
Dare you see me die
With my dignity

Hear my song, sing along
Hear my song, sing along
Hear my song

(Willson-Piper)
Nightjar (2008)

When a legend dies, it’s big news, but when that legend’s heyday was 70 years ago, it means that many of his fans would have already died, too late to honour him. Little Richard was 87 when he passed away today in Nashville succumbing to bone cancer. His raucous Rock ‘n’ Roll voice and punctuated falsetto, his whoops and screams and his flamboyant appearance (always in makeup with bouffant hairdo) made him as popular as Elvis in the mid fifties. He was one of the originals, admired by The Beatles and by anybody that found themselves in the periphery of his electric performances. When he arrived he was a new style of music. He was about energy and attitude and way ahead of his time. He was allegedly bisexual (when he was 17 he was performing in drag) and an apparent famous voyeur (ha ha), but add this to being a black man with a powdered face and a pompadour in fifties America, wowing segregated audiences, breaking down the barriers as they hit the dance floor together, it’s then that you can understand where the word ‘legend’ comes from.

AC/DC, Deep Purple, Patti Smith, The Kinks, Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, owe a debt to him. Jimi Hendrix played guitar in his band, but as the sixties arrived he turned to religion. He made a lot of Gospel records and eventually became a minister, but in the seventies he found himself hopelessly addicted to cocaine and went from fining his band for drinking to finding solace in alcohol, PCP and heroin. His records sold millions and the legend lived on. But by the seventies and despite his influence he was on the nostalgia circuit re-recording his big hits for other labels. Still, he became known with Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis as one of the originals, the architect of Rock ‘n’ Roll. He was one of the first crossover artists, reaching audiences of all races, breaking down barriers with his energy and his songs. His contemporaries loved him, not just Elvis and Jerry Lee but Buddy Holly, Bill Hayley, The Everly Brothers and Roy Orbison, Gene Vincent and Eddie Cochran, all recording his songs.

When he was 14 he’d already impressed Sister Rosetta Tharpe with his talents, his piano playing and voice and although his career was stop start he would eventually be signed to RCA Records and then Peacock Records, but with little success. But where did he get the ideas that would make him a legend? In the harder times between record deals he met Esquerita, a major influence in performance and image. You may wonder why you’ve never heard of Esquerita? Well legend has it that Esquerita taught Little Richard to play the frenetic piano and when you see the pictures, hear the music, experience the style, you’ll wonder why Esquerita isn’t famous, too. After being signed to Speciality Records in 1955, things started to happen and Tutti Frutti became a No.2 hit on the Rhythm & Blues Charts. He had six hit singles in 1956 alone, releasing his debut album in 1957, reaching No.13 on the Billboard Charts (oddly his second album didn’t chart at all). But when he left Speciality in 1959 he had scored 9 top 40 singles in the Pop Charts and 17 in the R&B Charts.

I met Little Richard twice, once with my friend Patti and once with my friend Lian at the Hyatt hotel in LA. He was in the foyer, Lian wanted to say Hi . We walked up and did just that, he was very nice. Sitting at a table, pencil mustache and full makeup. The other time with Patti, she kissed him on the cheek and told him he really was the king of Rock ‘n’ Roll, “Thank you, baby” he said.

His real name was Richard Wayne Penniman, he came from Macon, Georgia and was a major influence on almost everything you ever heard in the world of Rock ‘n’ Roll. RIP Little Richard, condolences to friends and family.

Today in my humble Rock ‘n’ Roll world, Dare and I worked on the tenth Space Summit song, trying out all kinds of electric guitars, they’re all there, leaning against the couch, exposing their backs. Sometimes and depending on the kind of music you are making, you need to have a palette of colours. I imagine that Angus Young could make the record he wanted with one guitar and one amp. It’s not like that for me, I need the range. The electric 12 strings, the semi-acoustic electric 6 strings, the 4 and 6 string basses (and sometimes 8 string bass), the solid body electric 6 strings and the acoustic 6 and 12 strings, as well as other exotic stringed instruments. For example today one 12 string sounded good in the intro and the other in the verse. Guitars have different tones and textures, each instrument has its own character, today the trusty Strat was wrong, but the Nash Tele was perfect.

It was also a perfect summer’s day with the sun shining down hot on your back, the birds were singing in the subtropical gardens and the sea was tight against the promenade wall as if it was frantically trying to invade the land. The water was so clear that I went down the steps to wash my hands in the splashing waves, narrowly avoiding a soaking. There was a military looking boat out in the bay and a shimmering haze on the horizon. It was truly beautiful and the hottest day of the year so far.

Music today was of course Little Richard, hearing these radical classics one more time. The style has been so watered down by time and this music is thought of as archaic by followers of today’s latest sounds. But all hipsters got there by a process of evolution and that started here as these innovators broke the rules in their day. If you listen to this music in the spirit of the times, you can hear revolution. On face value they are standard Rock ‘n’ Roll, on closer examination they are passionate innovation that led you to where you are today. Let’s remember them that way.

On my birthday I forgot to mention that the album I wanted to listen to when I woke up was Blonde On Blonde (1966), another innovator, stimulating the brain cells and changing the world. Today I’m staying with Dylan, The Times They Are A-Changin’ (1964), they certainly are.

Song Of The Day is On The Tip Of My Tongue from Art Attack (1988), certainly inspired by the gods of Rock ‘n’ Roll.

 

On The Tip Of My Tongue

Two, three, four

Look out!

As I’m filling up my suitcase
Like a hungry mouth to feed
And I’m wondering when I’ll see you
It seems my suitcase runs on greed
I won’t empty it for ages
But I’ll write a hundred pages
I just let you know some of the thoughts of mine
I just let you know some of the thoughts of mine

Here they are
Shake them from me
Here they are
Take them from me
Here they are
On the tip of my tongue
Here they are
Some of the thoughts of mine

And in a battle with no winners
My target won’t keep still
And I won’t be your prize today
I’m too upset to kill
But I’ll show you what you’re wasting
It’s so wrong the things you’re chasing
I’m gonna let you know some of the thoughts of mine
I’m gonna let you know some of the thoughts of mine
I am! Here they are!

Here they are
Shake them from me
Here they are
Take them from me
Here they are
On the tip of my tongue
Here they are
Some of the thoughts of mine

Don’t drag me from a sleepy bed
If listening hurts
I’ll only open up myself
To those who want my words
Some people are too different
And their opinions insignificant
I’m gonna let you know some of the thoughts of mine
Yeah, I’m gonna let you know some of the thoughts of mine
Here they are!

Here they are
Take them from me
Here they are
Shake them from me
Here they are
On the tip of my tongue
Here they are
Some of the thoughts of mine

Here they are
Shake them from me
Here they are
Take them from me
Here they are
On the tip of my tongue

(Willson-Piper)
Art Attack (1988)

Cats versus dogs, I’ve had both, but as a traveller it’s hard to have either. I’m not sure we need to choose, I mean budgie or parrot, snake or axolotl, spider or stick insect, goldfish or rabbit. Animal preferences might be based on whether you are trying to build a relationship? It’s pretty hard to build a relationship with a goldfish, but then I see people in the park talking to their dogs as if they were small children, “Why did you do that? What’s the matter with you? You know that’s not allowed”. The dog cowers in shame and that response is seen as “I’m sorry, you’re right”. So I guess this means that unlike the goldfish the dog responds to your tone of voice and that’s a relationship, shouting at the goldfish doesn’t make them obedient, feel shame or love you more for exposing their mistakes.

The other day I was walking up to Dare’s house and saw this most beautiful cat. It was so beautiful that I took a photo on my phone to show Olivia. Today we were both walking up to Dare’s and Olivia said ‘look there’s that cat you took a picture of’. We walked over only to discover that there were two of them. It turns out that they are Bengal cats. Interesting breed, originally a mix of a wild Asian Leopard Cat and the domestic Spotted Egyptian Mau. Bengals are smart, playful, like water and have some genetic problems with their hearts, issues with red blood cells and retinal atrophy but beautiful. They are expensive too, maybe $2000 in the US where they are also restricted for breeding as there are issues about the breeding of wild and domesticated animals, but they sure are beautiful.

The whole idea of cross-breeding animals is born of a strange desire, humans experimenting with other creatures. What’s the story with Pugs and their breathing? When someone asked what would happen if you bred a Corgi with an Alsatian and tried it, I wonder if they also wondered about breeding a cow with a sheep, and did they try it? Genetic experiments are a dodgy concept, aren’t they? If you breed a female horse with a male donkey you get a mule, if you breed a male horse with a female donkey you get a hinny. A mule and a hinny have subtle differences but can be male or female. And if you are interested, a horse has 64 chromosomes and a donkey 62 chromosomes, a mule/hinny has 63 chromosomes and therefore cannot reproduce. That might be nature’s way of saying, ok, stop already!

When I was a child before we moved to Liverpool I lived in the country near Glossop with views of the Southern end of the Pennines (a mountain range), this area is known as the Peak District, despite its lack of peaks. We could see the highest (Kinder Scout) from our front porch, our house was even called Kinder View. We had an acre of ground and lots of animals: hens, four geese and ducks. The hens didn’t have names, neither did the ducks, but for some reason the geese did, one was called Arthur another Winnie, I can’t remember the names of the others, but it seems we give certain animals personalities and we love them, others we see as food, but most interestingly there’s other animals we see as without any personality at all and are certainly not thought of as food. Why the goose and not the hen? (It sounds like a book by Alain de Botton.) What exactly are vermin? Is your pet hamster vermin? Would it be if it hung out with rats? It’s hard to see the personality in a slug. We also had a cat called Blackie, a dog called Butch, a budgie and a rabbit (I forgot their names too, but they did have them). I remember the day we had to put Butch to sleep, I must have been eight or nine years old. They put a needle in his paw and I remember him looking up at me before he closed his eyes, rested his head on his paws and fell asleep.

So is it about our idea of intelligence and/or beauty? They say that pigs are extremely intelligent, but are they just not beautiful enough? They say (who are they?) that Afghan Hounds are not that smart, but they are really beautiful. Sheepdogs seem to be so smart, faithful, obedient, easy to train, a working dog (like gun dogs), lovely faces and coat, a highly regarded member of the family. Pigeons can apparently recognize faces (they say) and yet there is a certain disdain for them despite their higher level of skills, probably smarter than a beautiful Robin Redbreast, but you’d never let your kid terrorize a family of robins. This video of a crow is certainly food for thought:

 
Music today has been cat heavy and I started with Cat Power and The Covers Record (2000). I hear people love her, but I haven’t seen it yet. I’m told that the previous album, Moon Pix (1998), is the album to listen to. This very sparse and simple album of mostly unknown covers sounds very much like it needs to be experienced live, it needs her legendary live emotional outbursts.

Cat make the Partridge Family sound like Pantera. I picked this 1972 album up somewhere in America, I don’t remember where or when, I will have bought it purely because they were called Cat. They are Canadian, formed in 1968 and they are one of those bands that are too middle of the road to be understood from the future unless you were living in the North East of the US or in Canada in 1972 where they might have been on the gig circuit. It’s interesting how bands can be regionally massive, like Head East, big in the Midwest and the South, or Michael Quatro, big in Michigan (brother of Patti who was in latter-day Fanny and Suzi who sold 55 million records worldwide). 55 Million? Really?

On a slight tangent, The Jam fared better in England than in America (obviously you say), and yet Morrissey seems to be really big in America, what’s the difference with these quintessentially English groups? You think America would like the rockier Jam more than the fey Morrissey. In the seventies The Kinks killed it in America and struggled in the UK and what’s more English than The Kinks?

Next came two Cat Stevens albums, Tea For The Tillerman (1970) and Teaser And The Firecat (1971). Some lovely songs on these two albums, Father And Son, Wild World, Where Do The Children Play?, the over-played Peace Train, Morning Has Broken and Moonshadow, Sad Lisa, Tuesday’s Dead. It’s that tone in his voice and his sincerity, can anyone get away with being so sincere these days?

Def Leppard’s Hysteria (1987) with its ridiculous lyrics is a ‘guilty’ pleasure, the tunes, the riffs, those lovely fluffy-haired Sheffield lads, the Queen-inspired harmonies. Then there’s the crazy story of drummer Rick Allen losing his arm in a car accident, incidentally on the Snake Pass (in the Pennines). Apparently a nurse was passing, saved his life if not his arm.

I met Slim Jim Phantom, drummer from The Stray Cats, once in LA when I was hanging out with my mate Jay Aston from Gene Loves Jezebel. What a lovely guy he was too, you can see why Britt Ekland married him (ha ha). Incidentally the famous record store I worked at in Stockholm, Pet Sounds, was started as a partnership between the present owner and Britt Ekland’s brother. I don’t know if you remember but there was a hell of a hoo-ha when The Stray Cats appeared on the scene – in England. Their debut album, produced by Dave Edmunds, went into the Top 10 and their second album Gonna Ball, both released in 1981, went Platinum. The first American album, Built for Speed (1982), was a compilation of the first two UK albums. Their success seemed odd to me because they were, well, so Rockabilly. I couldn’t figure out why the world would want them even if they were good as their fans said they were, because their style was not considered mainstream. Perhaps it was because they weren’t really like other things, you never know if complying with or bucking the trend is going to work. They went on to sell Gold and Platinum albums in America over their initial five years together.

Song Of The Day is Ravens from All About Eve’s Touched By Jesus (1991). The song had me playing the mandolin and is in honour of that clever crow in the video.

 

Ravens

Late last night, about a quarter to twelve
In the middle of an awful storm
I took fright at the terrible sight
Of a raven flying into my room
My blood ran cold, my heart stood still
As I pulled the covers over my head
A minute dragged by as I opened my eyes up
To find her at the end of my bed
Then she spoke in a devilish croak
About herself being one of a score
And I felt sick at the very idea
Of dealing with nineteen more
She said, “look out your window”
I see a skyfull, I pull a rifle on them all
Pink sunrise in the wintry skies
All warm on the wings of a dove
She sinks and lands on the back of my hand
And sings with the voice of love…
“Thoughts made flesh can be beautiful things
As I am one of the same
Fed so well on the best of your dreams
And the beauty found within
But those black beasts that you see in the east
Are scratching on the orchard floor
At split, sweet fruits and the writhing worms
That you keep behind the straining door
Go to the cellar!
I see the beasts and they’re eating
Feasting on it
Fill my head with small white flowers
Help the sweetness heal the sour
Draw on high religious power
Free the ravens from the tower

(Cousin, Price, Regan, Willson-Piper)
All About Eve – Touched By Jesus (1991)

Thanks everybody for making my birthday so cool – cards, video messages, video calls, phone calls, text messages, Facebook, Email, prezzies, In Deep donations and especially thanks for the hot air balloon that floated over the archive and carefully winched down all those rare records. It’s pretty hard to reply and thank everyone individually so just know how much I appreciate all your comments, greetings and love. (Did you see Olivia’s drawing?) And by the way if you didn’t know, I was 62 today and how on Earth did that happen?

Unfortunately it doesn’t look like there’s going to be much chance to break out of here soon enough to play any shows this year, but with albums in the can, albums almost completed and other projects in the planning stage we hope we can project into the future. As soon as we know what’s happening with the lockdown we will be in touch with our great new agent Joady and discuss with her how we can move forward. I’ve already talked to Stephen at Schoolkids Records about release dates, especially for MOAT and Poison Stream, but we wait, like everyone else we just wait until we see a window. Let’s just hope that people stop dying – of anything. Then let’s settle on other planets.

It was a lovely day today, 16 degrees, a nice breeze, warm sun on your back and encouragingly more people around than I’ve seen in a long time. It’s as if people know something is going to change, even with the continuing struggle it seems there is some guarded optimism, over here in England at least. One of the worst things about this is the simple fear. Different people have a different reaction to different things and this is no exception. You can’t really judge them if they react differently to you, you have to be sympathetic, like you would be for a frightened child. It doesn’t matter if it’s just the shadows created by the trees through the window or if a real threat exists, you need to have empathy, because there is one real truth through all this – nobody knows what is true and what isn’t true anymore. Perhaps I am naive but I’m pretty sure we had a better angle on the truth in the past, or was it that we believed more easily? I feel like lying is easier these days than it was, as if it’s a matter of course. What I don’t understand is after the lies are found out, they are just accepted, just move on, of course they lied. I hate liars.

The sea was a dark sparkling green, we were willing the seals to come out and sunbathe above the waves. Sometimes they do and they linger, other times it’s a brief glimpse and then they disappear beneath the surface and no matter how long you wait they don’t return. After we’d been to recycle and contemplate the ocean we walked across the road to the supermarket and stood in a queue to get in. It wasn’t that long, five minutes and we were through the door. The shelves now seem to be well-stocked, the rush on toilet paper seems to be over, there’s spaghetti and cereal, honey, tissues, eggs, although I’m still not seeing any hand sanitizer. What did these people do with their bulk buys? Do they live in mansions or are all these extra goods cluttering up the kitchen floor?

I’ve caught the sun on my face the last couple of days, yesterday in Dare’s garden, today just being out. At Dare’s house the bees are buzzing around the purple flowers (their name escapes me). That explosion of life that starts in the spring and continues into summer is invigorating. Morrab Gardens was beautiful today with its exotic plants and trees (see the pic). What a thrill it is living on this beautiful planet. So much to experience, so much to see, so much to know. Dare dropped by with a prezzie, Black’s last album, Blind Faith (2015), you may know him from his song Wonderful Life. Dare tells me this is his best album. Black was his stage name, his real name was Colin Vearncombe, we both met him separately over the years. He was tragically killed in a car accident in 2016 on the way to Cork airport, leaving behind his Swedish wife and three children. There’s a very moving article written by her about the tragedy.

We planned birthday movies and intended to watch the extended version of Lord Of The Rings but got to the end of the first DVD to discover it was the normal version. Ah well I guess it’s an excuse to watch it again. I didn’t remember that much from when I first saw it all those years ago. The trouble with books and films and records is that they need multiple listens, re-reads and revisits. Life is definitely too short and one might reflect on that on one’s birthday. As it happened in the film it all started with Bilbo Baggins’ birthday, I think he was 111, but mostly because the evil ring has kept him alive. But then the Elves are immortal, aren’t they? This prompted me to ask Google if Elves are immortal. What a wonderful world of fantasy we can inhabit with our imaginations. I was glad to read that Elves are indeed immortal and can recover from wounds, but they can die from “grief or weariness”. So please try your best not to make your local Elf sad.

After watching Lord Of The Rings, music tonight is going be, you guessed it, Elf, featuring American singer Ronnie James Dio, who as you know found himself in Rainbow and Black Sabbath as he had something of a distinctive voice, for me best illustrated on the title track of The Butterfly Ball, put together by Deep Purple bassist Roger Glover. But as far as this album, I’m not digging it, I need to hear that first album, you know the one with the great cover with the Elf that costs loads of money. It is in fact called And Before Elf…The Were Elves (1972). The second album Carolina County Ball (1974) is a little too straight ahead and basic, I need a twist or some magic working within the genre, I don’t hear it on this album. Sadly Dio died of stomach cancer aged 67 in 2010.

I followed Elf with a large jump somewhere else, another planet with Unicorn (1969), produced by Tony Visconti. It was the third album by Tyrannosaurus Rex with Marc Bolan and Steve Peregrin Took’s last album as part of the duo. It was a hippie-esque acoustic duo with Bolan’s distinctive vocal style and flowery lyrics with Peregrin Took’s percussion, bass and piano. It made it to No.12 on the UK Charts and features the great Cat Black The Wizard’s Hat with the out of time mad drums at the end. Hey it was the late sixties, everyone was stoned. I’m particularly liking the track Iscariot on Side 2.

Then there’s a children’s story uncredited as a song and read by the late John Peel, a must listen with that special voice of his. The much loved DJ died suddenly of a heart attack in Cusco in Peru. I was all the more saddened by his death because I have actually been to and stayed in that obscure town on the way to visiting Machu Picchu, I could see him there in the streets. I saw him for real once in a cafe in Crouch End, London, I should have said hello, he was a Liverpool supporter. (Olivia’s parents got me an LFC umbrella for my birthday.)

It was another death by car accident with Marc Bolan, losing his life at 29 in Barnes with his girlfriend Gloria Jones driving a mini and crashing into a tree, she survived, can you imagine, how do you recover from that? Steve Peregrin Took died by choking on a cocktail cherry. All these tragic deaths, what happened to dying in your sleep at 100? Birthdays and death, birthdays and death, that’s life.

Strider are long forgotten as a Blues Rock band with an insecure line up. They only made two albums, the second is called Misunderstood (1974) and featured Gary Grainger on guitar. He ended up in Rod Stewart’s band and with Stewart co-wrote Hot Legs and I Was Only Joking. He played sessions with many other seventies luminaries. Strider was of course the alias of Aragorn, heir of Isildur and the throne of Gondor.

Last but not least The Nazgul from Germany who have been called a hoax, a mystery and an experimental adventure. To find out more about them you may need to unravel the mystery with a trip to Cologne in a time machine. There’s a 12 inch single from 1999 which is allegedly the alleged seventies band that allegedly made the self-titled album from the mid seventies – allegedly. (I have the CD.) You need your special ears on for this one.

I suppose I could have played Bo Hansson’s Lord Of The Rings, but it just didn’t occur to me so Song Of The Day is that very album, why not?