Musings on the byways of popular culture
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I’ve a few minutes to share this before descending into a day-long “workshop” (viz: Alexei’s immortal utterance) all about “Human Resource” information systems, so I’ll just have time to say that it’s a fab selection of paintings, by a woman called Doreen Fletcher, of everyday London – displaying a sweet innocence, humour and a great eye for detail.
Well worth your perusal – I was both charmed and impressed, and glad these made it into the light for more people to see.
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No, not a Brexshit moan, just a post for those who’ve wrestled with frets ‘n’ things, to show you a little YT vid I watched slack-jawed and grinning at the weekend ‘cos I think others will enjoy seeing it too.
PS click through at the end to the duet with Eric Gales!
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Re: your recent comments about events following the Brexit vote and the election of your pal Trump.
Mind your own f*cking business, you bloody gangster.
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Venue:
St. Georges, Bristol
Date: 19/12/2018
What a very special evening! Entrancing from the first number to the rousing encores.
We witnessed a perfectly judged sequence of songs and instrumentals conjuring up all aspects, secular and religious, of this profoundly felt time of year, as the planet begins to turn us once more towards the warming days of the next year.
The night was magical, reflective, human, spiritual and deeply rooted in the natural world of music, people, and the world in which we all have to rub along somehow; a real morale booster in troubled times.
If you want to hear most of what we were treated to last night, you can buy their album ‘Upon A Winter’s Night’, which will warm your very cockles. Alternatively, if you are very lucky, there are a small number of gigs left on this tour – so get yourself there if you can; it’s a real cracker.
The audience:
The usual crowd at St. Georges, liberally sprinkled with Cara & Sam’s fans of course. Sold out, I’d say, with only a few empty seats – the foul weather or other circumstances had left only a couple of gaps in the » Continue Reading.
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No, it’s not that Rees Mogg arse-wipe, and neither is it George Hunter (if only), it’s that monobrowed Manc charlatan who has somehow stretched a thin song-writing ability – just enough to produce the odd half decent Beatles pastiche – into a platform that allows him to spout arrant self-aggrandisement pretending to be self-effacing yet so loaded with hyperbole he even has the arrogance to name drop people like David Bowie.
Is it possible to get a subscription to Mojo that omits any mention of the fool, and are there artists for whom you wish the same sort of editing were possible too?
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Let’s start a petition.
The Fall’s front man for the new fifty quid note! We the people demand it! Take back control!
Maybe we should have a referendum?
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Here’s Bob Dylan’s entire output after being put through an intense iteration of the Zip algorithm:
“Nerve” “shoe-lace” “Delacroix”
Can you suggest a three word zipped summary for another artist that’s instantly recognisable?
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As eny fule kno, my political opinions are faultless, beyond reproach and sensible to the nth degree, and having done the 38 degress Brexit quiz, my results clearly show that we need to reject Breixit and remain in the EU while working to improve its future fortunes and direction.
Anyone who thinks otherwise is a smelly twot and will have their head put down the toilet while it is flushed.
*wobbly screen*
I would like to be the next Prime Minciter, due to my extraordinary leadership qualities and clear vision for our Nashnul Perlitical future. Apparently all I need is 48 votes or something. Er,
*screen wobbles again*
Hang on, I seem to have suffered a short-lived major neural catastophe just then there; I morphed into a Leaver for 30 seconds!
I certainly don’t want the poisoned chalice, any more than the Maybot does, but I have a huge advantage over here; I haven’t spent the last five decades mimsying about in local Conservative Clubs, giving anodyne speeches about traditional values, judging jam making contests, smiling inanely and raising funds for the local Round Table.
How much more of this chronic display of ineptitude are we prepared » Continue Reading.
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Venue:
St. George’s, Bristol
Date: 08/11/2018
Last night I had a religious experience. It happened as I was sitting in the cosy surrounds of St. George’s in Bristol, my favourite venue, somewhere we’ve come to count on for transcendent evenings of great music. I sat six feet from Ryley Walker there when he played with Danny Thompson a year or two back, I saw the soles of Rick Wakeman’s sneakers, heard a squeak from a Steinway’s pedals as he regaled us with solo piano versions of Yes tracks and told us wondrous stories. I’ve danced in the aisles with what seemed like every Asian family in Bristol to the joyful sounds of Alaap, and wept quietly to countless orchestral moments of joy over the years. St. George’s continues to deliver the goods, and last night’s event was another absolute joy. Last night we went to see a singer and her band. She first came to my attention back in the dancing days of the nineties, when she added another layer of exotica to the international conglomerate of music that called itself Transglobal Underground. I bought her first couple of solo albums. She was still finding her way to an » Continue Reading.
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Holy Moses, I love her music, but was there ever so predictable a headline?
This girl is lost, and I feel so sorry for her.
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Seriously, does anyone still feel comfortable using the shitfest that is Facebook?
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Bravo monsieur, c’est vrai.
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Checking out the new edition of Mojo, I’m on pages 76-77, where Macca is pictured sitting in front of some shelves of vinlys. My eye is immediately drawn to an interesting detail.
Can anyone else tell me what the connection is between Paul and the album – a long time favourite of mine – that very clearly appears twice on the shelves behind him?
Haa ha hahahahahaha. Squirm and sweat you bastard.
https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/660/cpsprodpb/12B7D/production/_102696667_f38853c5-4683-4516-9f34-28eb03918770.jpg
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Venue:
Frenchay Parish Hall
Date: 20/07/2018
I’m not a drummer, but last night I took two of my best friends to a gig, and they are both musicians. We went to the charming little hut that is Frenchay Parish Hall on the northern fringe of Bristol, where the local jumpers of Downend Folk club were hosting one of their coups of the year: Hannah Sanders & Ben Savage.
I’d heard of this pair some while back, but my consumption of English folk music has dropped away some in the last few years, overtaken by the tsunami of talent that seems to be emanating from America at present. I’d bought the first album, but not played it, and it was only when I saw their imminent arrival virtually on my doorstep that I spun it up to listen. What a revelation, they can both play and sing at a very accomplished level, and write gorgeous, intelligent, charming and thought-provoking songs in a variety of styles, making attendance at the gig pretty much mandatory for me.
So I dragged my musician pals along, neither of whom had heard the duo before. In support was a short, perfectly judged set from » Continue Reading.
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Those bigot maniacs in the DUP are the tail wagging a democracy of 60+million people, the vast majority of whom hate their fucking guts. The country has gone to the orange dogs.
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….everyone is getting ready for the forthcoming visit.
Personally, I hope it all goes really well, with a great outcome for everyone in the free world.
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Am I missing something on the telly?
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Go on then, you clever lot, where does that come from?
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*sad low whistling sound*
One of the greats. Say hello to the soup dragon old chum.
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I’ve been working in central Bristol these last few months, and unfortunately for my wallet, the office is less than five minutes’ stroll from the wonders of Fopp. As my CD collection has inexorably grown over the months, I’ve come to know something of the chap who flogs The Big Issue outside the Lord Mayor’s Chapel, which is right next door to Fopp.
Most days we have a chat, and we often chin-wag for some time if the weather allows. He’s a cheery fella, and I’ve learned that he does a lot for the homeless community in Bristol. He and a mate have plans for later this summer; they are going to walk about 1100 miles (that’s 2.2 Proclaimers) from Lands End to John O’Groats. No mean feat. I asked Garry what the funds raised would pay for, he thought a few moments, and said, “Well, the last time we did a walk (this is the Big One – they’ve done two shorter walks before) we raised enough to pay for about 65 Birth Certificates.”.
It took a few seconds for the penny to drop. This huge effort is designed to pay, amongst other things, for identity papers for » Continue Reading.
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Seriously, who gives a flying fart about snooker any more? It was fine in the 80s, on a fat cathode ray tube when it was raining all the time and the only thing on the radio was the feckin’ Smiths, but these days? Really? All damn evening FFS? Two ugly blokes I’ve never heard of, who probably haven’t got a single Magma album between them (or even know who they are) potting reds and sweating profusely? Give me a break. On the other hand, don’t. Roll on Springwatch.
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Now’s your chance to take the current when it serves, if you have a mind to watch the National Theatre Live production of the Shake’s ‘Julius Caesar’, this Thursday evening, April 26th, at 7 p.m. in the Vue cinema, at Longwell Green on the outskirts of Bristol.
Due to circumstances beyond our control, my buddy who was coming to see this with me can no longer attend. So we have a spare VIP seat ticket for Thursday night’s perfomance going spare. Drop me a line if you’d like to take it.
Show starts at 7 sharp, and you’d get a withering glance if you turned up late and shuffled in apologetically, but there’s no need to worry, as I’ll be taking my seat at 7 sharp with or without passing on the spare, so you must be there on time!
http://ntlive.nationaltheatre.org.uk/productions/ntlout26-julius-caesar
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Venue:
Colston Hall, Bristol
Date: 09/04/2018
I have to say that I hesitated before posting this review, due to the fact that a large grey leg belonging to an elephant is planted right in front of me, and it’s a little hard to see past it.
Temporarily setting aside my pachydermally imposed visual limitations, let me tell you more about how the evening unfolded, and first of all let me assure you that I had a great time.
Aware of the fact that there are quite a few late period Tull albums that I’ve never even heard of, let alone heard, I was prepared to endure considerable periods of auditory bewilderment during this concert. I am after all of the generation raised on a Witch’s Promise by a Teacher. As a youngster, I lost interest in keeping up with things during the interminable ‘Passion Play’, only to reacquaint myself with the canon round about the much later arrival of ‘Heavy Horses’. Since then I have cherry picked a few more albums to plug gaps.
But I needn’t have worried. This is very much a 50th anniversary celebration of Jethro Tull’s Greatest Hits, aimed squarely at the greying » Continue Reading.
