After eventually clicking on The Jam documentary that’s been sitting on TiVo for a couple of years I’ve spent the last week re-living the band that meant the world to when I was miserable schoolboy. Of course, those were the precious years when singles ruled the musical landscape, and coolest bands didn’t put all of them on their LPs, so you didn’t end up paying twice for the same song. The tune I’ve been humming is Strange Town – Weller’s bittersweet tribute to the capital that he’d loved from afar, and then seemingly fallen out of love with after rubbing up against the big boys of ‘76 and ‘77. Ignoring later greatest hits round-ups, let’s have some love for stand-alone 45s.
These days almost nothing goes unrecorded, unfilmed, and preserved for prosperity.
Unless there’s a boot I’m unaware of, Joy Division doing Louie Louie will always be the stuff of legend, and something I’ll always wish I could listen to.
Any other examples?
A where-did-that-come-from masterpiece I’ve been listening to all day; I haven’t played it for a few years and it’s easily the best record I’ve heard in months. I’m sure it wasn’t the only record I listened to aged about 15-17, but I sort of remember it that way. Recently I’ve been eaten up with jealously of all the people on here who saw them supporting Buzzcocks. I saw Stephen Morris last week at a literary festival and he signed my copy of Atmosphere – the kids have been squabbling ever since about who gets it when I shuffle off. He told a great story about having to play a spray can to make the ooof sound in She’s Lost Control.
It crops up on iPlayer from time to time, but if you haven’t seen it, there’s Chuck live in London available at the moment. It’s 1972, so you get My Ding A Ling, but the rest is maximum R’n’R.
I had no idea this show existed – I’m giving the excuse that I was 16 when it happened, but it was on Sky Arts the other night and I forgot to record it. Drink may have been to blame. I’ve recently worked out that I can watch YouTube on my TV, and as Mrs P is absent I’m currently sitting on my sofa tapping all my toes. Great stuff
During a day trip to Rye at the weekend I found a 1965 mono first pressing of Highway 61 for the princely sum of a fiver. Then Bloomsbury emailed about a new Dylan book and I thought it might be right up my street, until I clicked on the link and got a migraine.
Anyone want two tickets to see Hal Cruttenden at the Pleasance Courtyard, Edinburgh, on Wednesday August 1 at 9pm? I’ll happily post them to you, and there’ll be no charge, but if you wanted to chuck a tenner at the charity of your choice you’ll have sweet dreams forever. PM if you’re interested.
After a hard day at the coalface, I’m sitting in the garden with a cold imported lager in a frosty glass working on my base tan and listening to Infected by The The. Inspired by the chatter around his recent shows I’ve had this on heavy rotation for the first time in at least 20 years – it’s very much the sound of second year university – and I’ve been struck by how many noises, tics, tricks and vocal inflections he borrowed from Hole by his chum Foetus. Anyway, I’d cued up Hole in an effort to sneak it in before Mrs P the architect got home but I got sidetracked by SteveT’s Joe Strummer rarities news, and now I’m about to swing too Black Market Clash – and it really is gloriously sunny over Stoke Newington. I’ve made coleslaw and later there’s going to be crispy, spicy wings with a garlic and lemon yoghurt. Which is all a long-winded way of asking, what you groovy fuckers doing tonight?
The Dennis Law chatter made me think of grannie Patel who actually knew Mahatma Gandhi, and my wife who as a small girl met Charlie Chaplin. Thanks to my work I’ve met of the famous and powerful over the last 30 years, but nothing I’ve done beats grannie. What are your relations’ claim to fame?
I’ve been listening to Elvis Costello this evening, which reminded me that whenever I bump into my neighbour Elsie the line “they call her Natasha” pops into my head. She’s of an age when I’m sure she’s been quoted that ad nauseum, so I’ve always kept my thoughts to myself. My posh friend who was christened Natasha was always known as Bob, thanks to Blackadder, despite my best efforts to get her renamed as Elsie. Anyone else got little triggers that spark off an internal verse or two?
Mrs P and is out getting a haircut in the West End so I’ve lit the fire, opened more than one lager, and so far listened to the best of The Damned, the Stones blues covers album, and currently 1965 by The Afghan Whigs. I’ve made a massaman curry for later and if I can’t persuade her to listen to more music we’ll catch up on the last series of The Walking Dead before the new one starts in the next week or two. What you listening to?
The Invisible Shivers thread reminded me that I’ve been meaning to post this for a week or two.
I’m a big fan of Mick Green’s guitar heroics in The Pirates, with Johnny Kidd, and in The Dakotas, so when I found a solo LP in a bargain bucket for the princely sum of 99p I wasn’t going to be put off by the truly hideous cover, one that judging by the signature was painted by a relative.
But my word, the real fun was to be found on the back cover notes. The quote from a man very much out of his time is a charming mixture of prejudice, resentment, defensive machismo, and just plain confusion at the state of the world and his chosen industry.
The LP was issued in 1986, so it’s easy to guess at the bands he’s referring to.
Fret not, his time did come round again and he played with Van and Macca before shuffling off for good in 2010.
So, the question is – what’s your favourite sleeve note or dedication?
Catching up with yesterday’s Guardian I discover that pornography’s Richard Desmond is a jazz drummer and is in a band with Roger Daltrey, modestly named The RD Crusaders.
Given that the band formed in 2003 I’m mystified as to how this juicy nugget has eluded me until today.
Here they are doing unspeakable things to Start Me Up.
Anyone else discovered something worth sharing with the group?
So, it’s our 27th wedding anniversary and Mrs P the architect is in a hot bath because she’s got flu and I’ve cancelled our reservation at north London’s hottest Thai pop-up restaurant.
I’m in the kitchen cooking her favourite chicken kozani, drinking overpriced imported lager, wearing my favourite red cowboy shirt, and listening to Get Happy!!
What ya listening to on a Friday night?
Any theatre fans in London who are also Bobcats really should book tickets right now to this show at the Old Vic. Bob has given playwright Conor McPherson free rein with his back catalogue, something he rarely does, and the writer has used it craft a truely stunning play set in Depression-era Duluth (Dylan’s birthplace, as I’m sure you know). It’s a portmanteau piece about the inhabitants of a low-rent guesthouse, which each revealing their story, interspersed with with snippets and whole Dylan songs. There’s huge cast with plenty of faces you’ll recognise including Ron Cook, Bonagh Gallagher, Ciaran Hands, and Jim Norton, and live band on stage, but the music never feels shoehorned into the story or there as a crowdpleaser. I went to one of the very early performances on Wednesday, and it’s never been far from my thoughts since – it really is that good. I was lucky enough to win another pair of tickets to see it in a few weeks, and if I hadn’t I’d be handing over my bank details right now. It’s not been reviewed yet, so the pros might disagree with me, but I go to the theatre a lot – I » Continue Reading.
and it won’t involve Radiohead at Glastonbury. Just came home from walking the dog to find this waiting on my doormat.
It occurred to me that if I want to see an image of a greying, tired-looking, middle-aged bloke I just had to wait for an hour until the early-evening lager worked its way through my system and I’d see myself in the strategically place mirror in front of khazi. And I was bored of that, but I’ve never got tired of fingering my way through a new acquaintance’s collection of the hard, physical stuff. So, in the interests of full disclosure I’m going to show you mine in the hope you’ll show me yours. Of course, if my first attempt to use Imgur goes belly up I’ll look like a nob.
Apologies if this has been done already and I’ve missed it, but I thought I’d post my gigs of the year and invite others to do the same.
I’ve been to more live shows in 2016 than I have in some time – 40-plus – though a quick run through of my diary reveals my old fart tendencies.
1 – Edwyn Collins, The Roundhouse, January 29. Front row seats for my of my favourite artists, and we spent a couple of hours after the show with him and got Paul Cook’s setlist signed by everyone on stage. One of the highlights of my musical life.
2 – Lloyd Cole and the Leopards, Brooklyn Bowl, August 19. London’s worst venue, but a rare chance to see Lloyd do some old and I loved every minute. I bought a CD of the show and was delighted that my calculated shot at getting on the recording had worked. It’s the CD I’ve played the most this year, the man deserves more recognition. The Union Chapel acoustic show was just as good.
3 – Billy Childish and the CTMF, The Lexington, May 21. I’ve seen Billy do his R ‘n’ B thing dozens » Continue Reading.
To celebrate 25 years of Mrs P tutting about how much nicer our front room would be without the records and more of her stuff, we are off to Bruges tomorrow for five days on the occasion of our silver wedding anniversary.
She chose the destination, and I’ve read up about the city online and been through a couple of guide books.
But I really want to make this a special trip for her, so I’m throwing myself at your collective mercy with a plea to the hive mind for recommendations, hidden gems, advice, top tips, restaurants we just have to eat at, record shops, flea markets, awe-inspiring sights, anything we simply shouldn’t miss.
Meanwhile, as Mrs P is out working late architecting, I’m listening to The Jam while make sauce with last of all the tomatoes and basil that can be mustered in a London garden.
Family are all out on one thing or another and after the dog and me got bored with Tropic Thunder I found The Rolling Stones – Ladies and Gentlemen on the TiVo, which stopped me watching Oil City Confidential again. There’s been some discussion here recently about their merits, but bloody hell they were good in the early 70s. With Bobby Keys and Mick Taylor in tow, and Keith arthritis free, they were just a fantastic rock n roll band. I’ve got some very hot wings marinating in the fridge which I really should put in the oven soon before I have to share with the returning stragglers. What you doing tonight?
Talking about Duke Garwood on another thread made me remember how much I used to like reading about the gigs people had coming up. To kick it off the thread, I did Afghan Whigs at Koko in London a few weeks ago and have tickets for: Benjamin Booker – Village Underground, London, March 2 Wilko Johnson – The Junction, Cambridge, March 6 James Chance and Les Contortions – Cafe Oto, London, March 10 ( I’m not familiar with Les’s work but I hear good things) Vintage Trouble – Koko, London, March 31 Duke Garwood – St Pancras Old Church, London, April 16 Wilko Johnson – Shepherds Bush Empire, London, April 26
I’m 50 this year and plan to get out and about a bit more. What about you lot?