Friday, February 29, 2008

Last Time Around*

Oh my word - I've just seen something that's made my day. I've droned on at length before about having had the good fortune to see virtually every band I've ever wanted to see by now, but every now and then something pops up that I always considered unlikely bordering on impossible. But I'm extremely excited to find that to coincide with the UK release of a best of album, I'm going to get to see the truly fabulous Jason And The Scorchers. They split up first time around the start of the 1990s, and though I've seen Jason on his own two or three times, and indeed had a couple of chats with him as he is a lovely friendly approachable chap, the idea of getting to see the full live band is something else. I just hope Perry, who has been several grades of seriously ill for quite some time, remains in good enough health that it doesn't turn into a memorial tour. See for yourself the young Scorchers in all their early 80s fashion crime glory, with their treatment of Dylan's Absolutely Sweet Marie, squealing guitars and all. * Last Time Around, opening track of the 1984 Jason And the Scorchers debut album, Lost And Found

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Thursday, February 28, 2008

Music Has Charms, They Say

Some gigs are unknown quantities of new hope, some bring comfortable familiarity, and some sit right in the difficult middle. This was one of the latter category, someone whose music I'm extremely fond of in the limited extent I'm familiar with a vast catalogue, and there's always a risk of either not getting the hits you do know, or the whole of the new concept album. It's not my habit to criticise for the sake of it, but equally I'm not beyond telling it like it is. Support act Susie Wilkins is accompanied by nothing more than an acoustic guitar and occasional backing vocals, and that doesn't exactly help. She's clearly got a fabulously powerful voice, but technical skill on its own is not enough and it needs some material to suit it. The songs are a mix of new engaging and classic themes, but the execution of them seems just to lack a certain identity. We stretch from Julianne Regan to a not-quite-there Janis Joplin, and there are repeated bursts of Melisma Ca-a-a-a-a-arey vocal acrobatics that are impressive once, but not my idea of listening pleasure. Best of luck Susie, but not for me. Three quarters of an hour of roadie activity later, the rammed venue meets first Graham Maby and his five string bass, then Dave Houghton and his tidy set of baby drums, and finally Joe Jackson. Brief snatches of the melody line gradually lead the crowd into Steppin' Out, and while the piano gradually drops into the song, the vocal lines are not quite where they are on those familiar records. My voice doesn't sound exactly like it did twenty-five years ago either, mind, but nobody's paying to listen to me. After two or three more songs, there is mention that this the first show of a seven month tour, which rather explains a little ringrust. Six songs in and On Your Radio has us just getting up a head of steam, which promptly disperses as Graham and Dave leave the stage so JJ can do So Low on his own. With just piano, bass and drums on the stage, there's nowhere to hide, and the rhythm section have just the right combination of tightness and urgency to do a marvellous job. I'd rather see Weller trying to keep up with them than noodling away about his wild wild wood too, but that's another story. So, from perhaps sketchy though understandable beginnings, once the sound engineer got everything fixed and the band hit their stride, we got a decent mix of material from new album Rain, and a healthy serving of those classic pop singles. It's a rare thing for me to watch something so completely devoid of guitar, and a refreshing change too. As the piano gradually goes out of tune, we end up with a raucous You Can't Get What You Want (Till You Know What You Want) played almost entirely by Graham and Dave, with Joe on a shaker and a handful of piano notes, before closing with a majestic run through A Slow Song, which is where we came in - click the title link to see a rather younger JJ doing A Slow Song.

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Friday, February 22, 2008

That's How We Did It When I Was Just A Kid*

Lots of songs take me to particular places, but there's a few that belong specifically together. Danny and the Juniors' 'At The Hop', ELP's 'Fanfare For The Common Man', 'Blame It On The Boogie', Stephen Tin Tin Duffy's 'Kiss Me' and a handful of others are pretty much impossible to separate from the ice rink in my home town. This evening I've been at exactly the sort of disco skating session that was the highlight of my week at fifteen and onwards. I saw in several new years there, I spent my birthday alone there once or twice, and rarely failed to have a good time. While my peers were trying to get served in the bar - sometimes successfully, sometimes less so - there was me and a couple of other people alternately skating round in circles and begging the DJs to put on something a bit more rock. I probably don't have to look too far to find the protective cardboard sleeves I made to carry one or two vinyl singles in the bag with my skates every week, even now. No wonder when I went to dig out my skates a couple of years ago and found the plastic withered, brittle and cracking with age so as to be unusable, it brought me to tears. The feelings Ray Davies (link in post title) ascribes to his sister in the song pretty much nails how I feel too, about my poor knackered old skates and the rink in the old town that hasn't been used as such in at least a decade. My Bauer Turbos were state of the art skates in the mid-80s, even if they were no longer quite that by the time their owner-from-new passed them on to me. So, there's a newish rink in town, and with the exception of three or four seasonal spins round the temporary outdoor Winterval rink, this evening is my first go at proper skating in I don't know how many years. And now I know where the rink is, I can see a new pair of skates rapidly rising up my research shopping list. Now if only I could get the DJ there to play something that's older than the contents of my fridge - skating with people significantly less than half my age is one thing, but heaven help us all in the unlikely event At The Hop ever comes on! * Come Dancing - The Kinks

Monday, February 18, 2008

I Want Cute Shoes And A Vintage Dress*

It's not that unusual to walk into a gig and find girlfriend(s) of the band grooving away in the crowd. But I don't think I've ever seen the wife of the guy on stage totally lost in the music, and also being the headline act to follow him once his turn is over. Paul Curreri was right in the middle of a long talking blues thing, and if you know Arlo Guthrie's "Alice's Restaurant" you'll know exactly the sort of thing I mean, but quickly moved on to a thing or two I vaguely recognised. Rather than find a seat among the forty-odd people present, I stayed on my feet so I had a better angle from which to give my new 6x optical zoom a workout. Paul's songs begin in the folk/country flavoured niche of Americana, but there's more than a hint of the blues and jazz too, and that's an area that doesn't generally do so much for me. He's clearly talented, and rather handy with a guitar, but I'm not rushing out to buy the entire catalogue at the earliest opportunity. Paul made a point of mentioning between songs that they'd had a conversation early in their relationship about the necessity of being able to deal with either of them having a musical career that took off faster than the other's, and sure enough it's Devon you'll get to see on Jools Holland's show in the next week. With her first ten minutes spent trying to get her vintage guitar miked up properly without rattles and buzzes, it would be easy for a lesser performer to get a little frustrated. But not a bit of it here, and as Devon says "you're seeing our marriage at work here" while Paul plugs, unplugs, and replugs several different cables into both his and her guitar in search of an uncluttered sound. The first song is a version of Nina Simone's 'My Baby Just Cares For Me' on a single acoustic guitar, and it sounds great. Again there's one or two more do-be-do-be-doos in there for my liking, but that's my problem not theirs. After three quarters of an hour of Devon's songs, Paul joins her and we get a few duets. This is where it really works for me, Hank Williams' "Honky Tonkin" is particularly fine, and they leave the stage to well-deserved applause. It does no harm to have my tastes stretched a little, and Devon is a really engaging singer who clearly lives right in her music - there's no playing by numbers or contractual obligations here, it's all good honest stuff. And while I won't be rushing to travel the country to see every single show, I will be trying hard to be there when she's next passing nearby There are a dozen or so more pictures on flickr, but here's a decent enough one of the pair of them. * 'Keep Your Silver Shined' - Devon Sproule

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Monday, February 11, 2008

Had A Good Idea On Monday

Three mondays, three times going running, and I feel rather better after this time than the others. If nothing else, coming in from work and going out again gives me something else to do other than sit and eat chocolate, and on a clear but chilly evening like tonight it was good to be out seeing the stars and doing something vaguely positive and constructive. Which is not to say I'm about to turn into a proper runner by any means, nut having wokred out a better route than I was using until recently, it's good to be able to just relax afterwards rather than taking a couple of days to recover. * Had A Good Idea On Monday - China Drum, from the album Goosefair, 1996

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Saturday, February 09, 2008

All In Red*

All accessorised in red, I should say. Typing while drunk is always an interesting proposition. Tonight I have taken one of my new-at-xmas dresses out to the cinema, though I'm now sufficently distant foirm sobriety that this post may prove to be a litltre bit of a challenge. It's partly a joke on myself that Sean Young's character Rachel in Blade Runner is merely a construct of a woman and not the real thing, even if she looks vaguely like one. Needing to get out early, I started doing my make up not long after kick off time, and that's 3pm BST/GMT on a saturday not Jakarta time nor Los Angeles time, no matter what the Prem League propose to do to wring a further few quid profit out of the world, I haev had a lovely saturday evening out and in, and this is my dress, and the shoes, top and new handbag in variants of red. * It Bites - All In Red, from the Eat Me In St Louis album, 1989

Thursday, February 07, 2008

Some Tighten The Belt, Others Let Go

Since virtually all my post titles are robbed from some song or other, I thought it was about time I started referencing what I was robbing from where. This one's from Only The Thunder on The Alarm's second album, Strength, from 1986. The food diary went by the board pretty quickly, but it was enough to start me thinking more about what I eat where and when, so one thing I have tried to change is from eating late in the evening to having a slightly more regular routine of eating closer to when I get home from work. My reduced willingness to leave my desk at lunchtimes due to the unfathomable stupidity of the people who 'run' the building I work in has had a couple of effects. Firstly it makes it easier to go to the vending machine and buy chocolate, which isn't so good. But I've also been getting better at bringing more food-based food (as opposed to sugar-based food) to work with me. The staying at my desk and also not having so many reasons for stupid driving around the country of late means that I've done fewer lunchtime laps of the record shops, and had a slightly lesser hydrocarbon footprint. When it looked like my car was about to have a problem, I put a little money aside for that, and now it's failed to go wrong after all, that has been transferred to the part of the budget that has today brought me the camera I really wanted on the last day it was at a reduced sale price. You can see the first interesting thing it has produced on flickr, but it's something I've had my eye on for months, and having finally come down to a price I was prepared to pay, all is well. And besides, I figure it's a good thing for the right combination of reward and guilt trip for my other recent positive effort in affairs of the waistline: last monday with the start of the food diary, and again this monday, I've been running again. The first go was less successful, and the steep downhill bit had after-effects lasting for a couple of days. This time I reversed the direction, and running uphill meant I could concentrate on good fitness work rather than recovery. One step at a time, mind. My cyclist thighs are already well established enough that I don't need to put any more muscle on them or I'll never get my trousers over them!

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