It's not brilliant quality but I think I've added several dozen to its view tally already. Oh to have been there.
Friday, 6 June 2014
Do I feel lucky?
A recent late-night bout of Youtube hopping led me to this deliciously meta clip - Kyle Eastwood playing bass with Lalo Schifrin on a suite of Dirty Harry orchestrations, from a 2007 performance in Paris.
Sunday, 1 June 2014
Marquee of the Provinces
As a native of one of Aylesbury's satellite towns and a serial hoarder of Zigzag mags for longer than I can remember, I felt it incumbent upon me to visit the exhibition commemorating the 45-year history of legendary 'local' club, Friars, currently running at Bucks County Museum.
During my first visit back in March, a film crew from BBC Oxford were on hand to record the memories of founder David Stopps, and a David Bowie fan lucky enough to have caught a bit of his shirt at a Friars gig in 1972 (taking centre-stage in a fascinating Bowie-centric corner of the exhibit). I mostly succeeded in hiding from the cameras.
This multimedia extravaganza is fantastic, concentrating on the club's golden era, spanning 1969 to the early '80s (but also taking in the resurrection of Friars for one-off gigs in recent years). Someone (presumably Stopps) appears to have kept everything - posters (sadly no reproductions for sale, there were plenty I could happily have ripped from the wall), membership cards, tickets, t-shirts, photos.
As you proceed around the exhibition wall panels helpfully list, in sickening detail, all the artists who appeared throughout the club's various phases... Pretty Things, Free, King Crimson, Quintessence, Blossom Toes, Atomic Rooster, Principal Edwards Magic Theatre, Caravan, Mott the Hoople, Renaissance, Liverpool Scene, Blodwyn Pig ... and that's just 1969. A who's-who of progressive rock, pop, folk and beyond (Rotgut and Gilbert Hampshire's Armpit Review may or may not have graduated beyond their Friars support slots...).
It's worth hanging around to watch the extremely thorough audio-visual history of the club which runs on a loop (I took the lot in on my 2nd visit a week or two back). Whilst reminiscences from artists who've played at Friars (Marillion, John Otway, Mike Rutherford amongst them) are candid and illuminating, its the tale of the indefatigable Stopps and his music-loving cohorts which proves to be the heart and soul of the story.
Everyone associated with the club, from those on the door, to the psychedelic lightshow guys to a cross-section of members - many of whom look frankly far too well-preserved to have been teenagers in the '70s - recall an inclusive, almost 'family' scene (borne out by the frequent images of fans queueing for gigs like their lives depended on it). I left pondering when the next 'Friars presents...' show might be (none on the horizon it would seem), just so I could join their hallowed number, albeit belatedly.
The Evolution of Friars 1969-2014 runs until July. More info here.
During my first visit back in March, a film crew from BBC Oxford were on hand to record the memories of founder David Stopps, and a David Bowie fan lucky enough to have caught a bit of his shirt at a Friars gig in 1972 (taking centre-stage in a fascinating Bowie-centric corner of the exhibit). I mostly succeeded in hiding from the cameras.
This multimedia extravaganza is fantastic, concentrating on the club's golden era, spanning 1969 to the early '80s (but also taking in the resurrection of Friars for one-off gigs in recent years). Someone (presumably Stopps) appears to have kept everything - posters (sadly no reproductions for sale, there were plenty I could happily have ripped from the wall), membership cards, tickets, t-shirts, photos.
As you proceed around the exhibition wall panels helpfully list, in sickening detail, all the artists who appeared throughout the club's various phases... Pretty Things, Free, King Crimson, Quintessence, Blossom Toes, Atomic Rooster, Principal Edwards Magic Theatre, Caravan, Mott the Hoople, Renaissance, Liverpool Scene, Blodwyn Pig ... and that's just 1969. A who's-who of progressive rock, pop, folk and beyond (Rotgut and Gilbert Hampshire's Armpit Review may or may not have graduated beyond their Friars support slots...).
It's worth hanging around to watch the extremely thorough audio-visual history of the club which runs on a loop (I took the lot in on my 2nd visit a week or two back). Whilst reminiscences from artists who've played at Friars (Marillion, John Otway, Mike Rutherford amongst them) are candid and illuminating, its the tale of the indefatigable Stopps and his music-loving cohorts which proves to be the heart and soul of the story.
Everyone associated with the club, from those on the door, to the psychedelic lightshow guys to a cross-section of members - many of whom look frankly far too well-preserved to have been teenagers in the '70s - recall an inclusive, almost 'family' scene (borne out by the frequent images of fans queueing for gigs like their lives depended on it). I left pondering when the next 'Friars presents...' show might be (none on the horizon it would seem), just so I could join their hallowed number, albeit belatedly.
The Evolution of Friars 1969-2014 runs until July. More info here.
Tuesday, 31 December 2013
Monday, 23 December 2013
Inspiration Information
I first heard 'Strawberry Letter 23' by Shuggie Otis back in May this year, on Jamie Cullum's Radio 2 jazz programme, and it's been haunting me ever since. Soon after that first exposure I read a great piece about Otis on Richard Williams' wonderful music blog The Blue Moment and again made a mental note to explore some of his work. One thing led to another and I never did get around to it.
It's a song that reinforces my long-held opinion that 1971 may well have been the greatest year in pop history. The dusting of jingle bells lends the song an unobtrusively festive air, but it's far more than that. Musically it's perfectly executed, as though Emitt Rhodes and the Isley Brothers had double-booked studio time and thought, what the heck, let's make a record.
The first 2 minutes 20 seconds may sound like unremarkable, if high-quality, singer-songwriter fare, but appearances are deceptive, as the ensuing maelstrom of phased harmonies and guitar picking proves. If there's a more intoxicating second half to a song I'd like to hear it.
Thanks to a friend with impeccable taste, I now have a borrowed reissue of Inspiration Information, from 1974, with appended extras (including 'Strawberry Letter 23') to wrestle with over the Christmas break.
Result.
Last weekend, as I wrapped Christmas presents on a gloriously sunny Sunday morning, the song turned up on Cerys Matthews' 6 Music show. It sounded so good I was forced to down sellotape and listen. It wasn't back-announced, or referenced on the iPlayer tracklisting after broadcast, but I knew I had been revisited by an old friend.
It's a song that reinforces my long-held opinion that 1971 may well have been the greatest year in pop history. The dusting of jingle bells lends the song an unobtrusively festive air, but it's far more than that. Musically it's perfectly executed, as though Emitt Rhodes and the Isley Brothers had double-booked studio time and thought, what the heck, let's make a record.
The first 2 minutes 20 seconds may sound like unremarkable, if high-quality, singer-songwriter fare, but appearances are deceptive, as the ensuing maelstrom of phased harmonies and guitar picking proves. If there's a more intoxicating second half to a song I'd like to hear it.
Thanks to a friend with impeccable taste, I now have a borrowed reissue of Inspiration Information, from 1974, with appended extras (including 'Strawberry Letter 23') to wrestle with over the Christmas break.
Result.
Sunday, 8 December 2013
What if...
While the critics are waxing poetic'Bout his album with T Bone Burnett
John is racking his mind for a memory
That he swore he could never forget
Of a time on the banks of the Mersey
When the world hadn’t heard of him yet
When he practically did this for free
This is John turning 73
On the red eye with Yoko to London
He looks up and says “That’s fucking great!”
As he reads the front page of The Guardian,
Seems they’ve stirred up another debate
Some Conservative MP wants to shut down
Their new gallery show at the Tate
But the Queen even said, “Let it be”
This is John turning 73
As the pseudonym “@BedInForTweets”
And he fucks with the Westboro Baptists
And deflates the prevailing elites.
He composes a comeback so nasty
That he posts and then quickly deletes.
Then he turns and stares down the sea.
This is John turning 73
In the studio, Sean and Mark Ronson
Run a song with their guest David Byrne
Until John hits the talk back to greet them
And says “Lads, here’s a new one to learn”
So they listen to roughs in Garageband
As they wait for Questlove to return
And he nurses his chamomile tea
This is John turning 73
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