Adopting David Brent demeanour:
Today’s weather is the worst for 150 years…FACT! In fact, the last time the summer weather was this bad they cancelled the D-Day landings…FACT!
So I am snuggled here in my wooly jumper with the central heating on. Me and Alex are fed-up because it is far too wet and windy
Recent eBay madness has secured me with enough funds to purchase some musical goodies for my next project. The Missus should just wrestle me to the ground and remove my credit card from me before I do anymore damage. But she is a sucker for me when I do the big blue eye routine and stick out my bottom lip…
“But all the other boys have internal MIDI pickups in their bass…PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE”
Pester power works!
Thinking of getting more stuff up on eBay but I spent TWO HOURS inputting stuff the other afternoon just for only half of the stuff to sell. Here’s a word of advice: books do not sell. Some do, mainly rock books and popular classics, but the more obscure stuff doesn’t and so those books will be heading to the local charity shop. Yes, I do my bit being a left-wing goodie, goodie socialist scum-bag.
Ooooh drum solo…
Latest Entries »
Now I am REALLY bored… I have a pile of work lined up but I am waiting for confirmation from all the editors, so I am stuck in Limbo.
So…
ROO-NEY! ROO-NEY!
Yes, last night’s football match was most invigorating. I am a closet fan, only coming out when International matches are played. As a child, my local team was Leyton Orient and so this didn’t endear me much to the sport of football. There’s only so much degradation a boy can face.
More TV was watched and I saw a programme that actually made me feel bilious. I normally have a strong stomach for things and I have watched all manner of TV shows depicting the unseemly side of life, such as all manner of operations and a live autopsy, which was very educational. But last night, I watched a show that threatened to make me upchuck the guffstuff.
It was called Animal Passions and dealt with the subject of Zoophilia. Now you might think that this was about people who enjoy visiting the zoo, but it isn’t. It’s about those folks who get their kicks from being intimate with our furry friends. So the usual suspects are brought out: white American, bloated trailer-trash, sub-Springer scum, extoling their love for horses, ponies and dogs. It was the description from one young woman of how her virginity was taken by the neighbour’s dog at the age of 12 that caused my mouth to go moist in that pre-vomit stage and start to heave.
I’m still not sure what the message was. I think it was something about tolerance. Or maybe it was that the animals really like it. Or maybe it was that bestiality is legal in the state of Missourri. One expert said something like: “People don’t get upset when we kill animals for food, so why should we get upset when people have sex with animals?” Oh well, it takes all sorts I guess.
Again, I’m just boring. Sometimes I think I should actively develop some kind of sexual deviance just to fill out my character somewhat.
Recently:
Been plugging away, trying to finish a piece of work from the Editor-From-Hell. Nearly there. But his phone-calls are the writing equivalent of standing at a urinal in a public toilet, trying to pee, when a stranger walks up and occupies the urinal directly next door to you. Yup – I can’t pee with an audience and I can’t write when the editor is yapping at my heels for no good reason. Ho hum.
On Friday, my old recording chum Andrew O sent me an email after almost a year of silence. He has a new job. Well done, I congratulate. He wants to hear the music I am currently working on. I oblige and send him some stuff. He returns the favour. His ideas are roughly recorded and, as usual, I suggest that he should really invest in some guitar effect units to smooth his guitar sound out instead of just recording his guitar directly into his PC. He says he isn’t interested in the final product, only the ideas that are recorded. He ripostes saying he likes some of the new stuff but prefers my “less-guitary” material. This leaves me non-plussed as I use the guitar primarily. He ends the statement with a non-committal “no offence”. Well that makes it OK, I guess.
At the weekend, patchy sunshine, booze, Internet poker and more booze.
I also received a vinyl copy of Islands courtesy of my good friends at eBay. This was the first time I had heard this LP in its natural format. It was very interesting to hear. It sounded a lot more closed that Lizard and seemed quite claustrophobic. On occasions I could hear some weird strange bass frequencies that whooshed around like the wind. I can’t imagine what KC fans must have made of it this after hearing Lizard and ITWOP.
This is the 13th album from the Aylesbury-based band and this time they decided to pull out all the stops and produce a double CD collection of songs for the faithful. Once again, the fans paid the band in advance so fund their promotional push for this record and, if we are lucky, the band might just get a number 1 single out of this.
As a band that complains that they aren’t progressive rock, the album opens with a 12-minute track called “The Invisible Man”. This song builds on the loops and atmospheres laid down by “This is the 21st Century” from their previous album and is quite an atmospheric opener, despite some of the lyrics owing a nod to TS Eliot (naturally).
Throughout the album there are four smaller tracks called “Marbles I-IV” which provide the narrative thread. These songs deal with that sense of loss that goes hand-in-hand with getting older and that loss of innocence.
The song “Genie” seems catchy enough, but “Fantastic Place” seems as if it is a track from “Holidays in Eden” and “The Only Unforgiveable Thing” is completely throwaway. The first CD ends with another epic track called “Ocean Cloud” that deals with isolation and introspection again, the isolation of the ocean rower sailing across the Atlantic. Clocking in at nearly 15 minutes, this veers from quiet reflection to excited dynamism, but, for me, doesn’t quite manage to get off the ground.
The second CD fares much better. “The Damage” and “Don’t Hurt Yourself” instantly clicked with me and by the time the new single “You’re Gone” hit the speakers, I realised that we were onto something here. “Angelina” slows down the pace and is not a track that I am particularly enamoured with and then the album picks up again with “Drilling Holes” in which the band sound as if it has been listening to too many Beatles records.
The album closes with “Neverland” another mighty prog-rock epic. This time around though, the band nails it. It is the perfect closer to this record and sweeps you along from the get go.
The main problem with this record is the fact that it spans two CDs and for your money you get nearly 90 minutes of music. While some of you might think this is a good thing, I think the band could have made an extremely good 72-minute single album. Saying some of the tracks are filler would be unfair, but some songs naturally stand out more than others. The first disc feels a bit aimless while the second disc grabs you by the neck and drags you along.
So do I recommend it? Of course. Is it any good? Some of the music on Marbles is the best the band has done in a while. It is just a shame that there’s just too much music to get through in a single listen.
This is the second musical guide in an occasional series by Andrew Keeling, the first being a guide to King Crimson’s “Larks’ Tongues in Aspic” album. For those of you who have already seen that CD-ROM production, you are in store for very much of the same, for those of you who haven’t, I shall presently elucidate.
Mark Graham at Spaceward Graphics has taken Keeling’s work and transformed them into an interactive CD-ROM generated entirely in Macromedia Flash. You are presented with an historical overview of the events surrounding the creation of the album and there is also a lot of musical theory to wade through too, which might be a little daunting to those of you who think a crotchet is something you scratch first thing in the morning. But seriously, the musical stuff will be a revelation if you listen and watch the animations.
There are even a couple of vocal performances from Jakko Jakszyk, which allows the music to breath a little. You see, one of my main problems with the CD-ROM is that the majority of music is presented via the MIDI chip in your PC, so you are presented with a warbling, OK Computer-type voice rendering the vocals. I understand that this is a limitation of the technology, but it would have been nice to have more “real music”, for example, more MP3 samples replacing the tinny MIDI stuff. But this is a minor quibble.
What you do get is a pretty exhaustive study of one of King Crimson’s lesser albums. For me, this was a much more fulfilling journey than the Larks’ Tongue release, as I walked away with some knowledge that wasn’t previously there. You also get a chance to see some of the writings of Tammo de Jongh (the artist responsible for the sleeve) and get a closer understanding of the cultural context Peter Sinfield was drawing from in his lyrics. It is a real eye-opener.
I thought that the Larks’ Tongues edition was very good, but this feels a lot more complete in terms of information. It is an essential item if you want to understand the motivations and symbolism behind the album. For me, it has completely changed the way I listen and appreciate “In the Wake of Poseidon” and so therefore it is a purchase you may want to consider if you are a fan of early King Crimson. However, fans of the later incarnations might not find it so enlightening.
More details: http://www.inthewakeofposeidon.ukf.net/
I was very excited at the prospect of this gig because I had never seen Hackett perform live (except when he guested with Genesis re-enactment band “The Musical Box” last year for an encore of Firth of Fifth). The Missus suggested we got to the concert on time because she had a hunch that SH and his band would be taking to the stage on the dot. She wasn’t wrong.
We were immediately bludgeoned with the opening song “The Mechanical Bride” – a track that is pointedly a homage to King Crimson and Schizoid Man/Pictures of a City. It is a powerful song and it was made more powerful by a rush of strobe lights. Imagine that, from darkness to strobe in the blink of an eye. It certainly caught my attention.
Then there was a new track from his latest CD “To Watch the Storms”, the gentle, pastoral “Serpertine Song”. Then it was back to the classics with a barnstorming, abbreviated version of “Watcher of the Skies” and “Hairless Heart”. Knowing what was coming next, I nipped out for a toilet break. More on that later…
Darktown and Camino Royale followed in quick succession and then there was a personal favourite in the form of “The Steppes”. Then they took the show down a gear and performed an acoustic section comprising of “Horizons” (of course), “Walking Away from Rainbows” and an excellent version of another favourite of mine “Jacuzzi”. This time Hackett was joined on stage by his brother John on flute.
After the twenty minute interval, we were treated to more delights. “Vampire with a Healthy Appetite”, “Brand New”, “Spectral Mornings”, “Please Don’t Touch”, “Every Day” and a fantastic version of “Los Endos”. There were probably some more tracks that I’ve forgotten, but there you go.
The band was tight and looked as if they were enjoying themselves with plenty of on-stage banter and merriment. After one of the encores, Steve Hackett feigned a collapse and the bassist Terry Gregory revived him with a wipedown with a towel. Mind you, they had just thundered through a murderous version of “Clocks”. We were then treated to a corking version of “In that Quiet Earth…” and it was time to go home.
While I enjoyed the show immensely, both myself and the Missus felt that SH relied a little too much on Genesis back catalogue and not enough of his new material. “To Watch the Storms” is a strong album, yet he only played two tracks from it. Insane!
Review Supplemental: After “Hairless Heart”, I decided I needed to answer the call of nature. It may have been the walk beside the Thames on the way to the gig with the chilly night air or the cider I had consumed in Doggetts pub over looking Blackfriars Bridge that had an effect on my bladder. Who knows? But I needed to pee, so I left the hall and did the necessary. On my return, I was prevented from re-entering the hall. Myself and a number of latecomers (who had thought that there would be a support act and missed a good half hour of the show) were left to stand outside the doors. But I wasn’t a latecomer, I protested. I knew where I was sitting and didn’t need to be reseated. They were having none of it.
The two ushers made a point of not letting anyone back into the theatre during a song. Hackett just launched into his “Darktown/Camino Royal” medley. So I sat and waited and waited and waited and waited patiently. By now a queue was forming of about 25-30 people.
“If we rush them, they won’t be able to stop us,” I joked. But my words were greeted with looks of alarm as if I had called on the group to storm Buckingham Palace and bugger the Queen.
With nearly fifteen minutes of showtime missed, I knew that The Missus would be leaving the hall to find out where I had gone. And right on cue she appeared. Poking her head around the door, the jobsworth usher said, “You can’t go back in.” Bad call, Mr Usher. Never tell the Missus what to do. “You can’t stop me,” she replied and she darted back inside as the usher tried to trap her between the double doors.
This caused the crowd to swell forward, the song to end and the doors to open. I pushed my way down, calling the usher a nazi fascist for trying to crush my wife between the doors and we continued with our concert experience.
Neither of us had experienced anything like that in our concert-going career. It was a shame because this TOTALLY ruined my evening and it took me a good hour for my temper to fall from incandescent to simmering. Only in England – a land where an asshole is given a uniform, a set of rules and they think they are gods.
Oh well, at least it gives me the impetus to write a letter of complaint to the Queen Elizabeth Hall tomorrow. OK – so my toilet break cost me fifteen minutes of the show, but there was no need to try and squash the Missus!
Another year, another David Bowie album…
I never really understood the critical popularity of the last two DB releases. When the critics hailed “Heathen” as a return to form it left me baffled as I felt many of the songs were a little leaden and, to be frank, dull.
Luckily this isn’t the case with “Reality”. Getting past the abysmal sleeve design, Bowie is brave to put out a 41-minute album at a time when the kids expect their CDs to be packed to the gills with tunes. However, this short album, for me, is much more memorable than the last few efforts.
The album features the same band as the previous one with guest appearances from the likes of David Torn (on one track). The songs are short and snappy, and on the whole, hooky. While this obviously won’t be regarded as a Bowie classic, there’s enough here to satisfy the passing fan.
My only criticism is that Bowie needs to do what Bowie does best – surround himself with remarkable musicians. His current band just don’t cut it. On some of the tracks you can almost imagine DB saying “I want the guitar to sound like RF” or “Do some Eno synth there” but their playing (or more specifically, their solos) fail to ignite. And this is the problem. While Bowie remains consistant as a lyricist and vocalist, the music is almost becoming a pastiche, a photocopy of previous efforts.
Oh that makes it sound bad. But it isn’t…really. Also, pick up the 2-CD edition, because the extra tracks are quite good and should have been on the record…and also get another new version of Rebel Rebel.
On a recent interview, the interviewer commented to Bowie about the frequency of his album releases. In deadpan, Bowie replied that he was currently mixing his next release. Somehow, I don’t think he was joking!!!