Sunday, 7 February 2016

My bestest most favouritest songs ever ever - part 1

I can't do lists... certainly not hierarchical ones, I don't have Top Tens, etc. in anything.  But when it comes to music there are some songs which just endure - which always make me smile and still give me that special feeling.  It's hard to analyse exactly why, isn't it?  - maybe it's about the context as much as anything? - what it aroused in me on hearing for the very first time, where I was, what I was doing, thinking, etc.  Sometimes it's as simple as just having a particular penchant for a heavy bass-line or a hooky chorus, one common element in different and often disparate tracks which always satisfies something inside.  I've been through many phases and into several genres in over 40 years of listening to music (oh jeez) and as with most things in life I don't think you want the same again and again or forever, not the same food nor the same clothes, etc. so that also applies to this  - but there will always be the special examples which just never lose their original appeal.

I'm going to pick out a few here from time to time - expect a very varied selection!

To kick off, it's Modern Politics by The Panik from November 1977 (the first track on their  'It Won't Sell!' EP).   When I first heard this at the time of its release I just couldn't believe the sound of that bass rumbling its way through and I loved its stop-start punctuation, plus the (slightly over-ambitious) guitar solo...  it sounded so serious, so raw, but relatively 'slow' (hmm, sort of) for '77 punk, not too ramalama.  The band came from Manchester and listening to it again now I'm reminded of early Joy Division / Warsaw.  I've just looked them up in the excellent book 'No More Heroes' by Alex Ogg and indeed there is a connection: the record was co-produced by band manager Rob Gretton, plus drummer Steve Brotherdale  also played in Warsaw.  Apparently at one time they even tried to convince Ian Curtis to be The Panik's singer.



One to blow the cobwebs away - play loud (of course) and feel 14 again, listen here:

The Panik: Modern Politics


Wednesday, 3 February 2016

This is still London

I needed a treat.  Thankfully one came in the form of some visual delights, courtesy of this recent purchase.



First published in 1959, this is one of a series of successful books created by Miroslav Sasek about cities of the world.  They may have been designed for younger readers but their charm, wit and contemporaneous detail is universally and timelessly appealing.

I sent myself off on a little search to find up-to-date images of some of the subjects featured in these illustrations.

Have things changed much in nearly 60 years?




It's quite comforting to notice that not everything has.

















Perhaps people have changed more...


...or maybe not.


'This Is London' by M Sasek, is available as an updated reprint from Universe Publishing.

Tuesday, 26 January 2016

Notes from a semi bohemian suburban childhood #2

I've mentioned my small local venue 'Triad' before - it was where I attended my first ever gig in January 1978: Siouxsie & the Banshees.  For a while this really was the place to hang out locally if you were into music, particularly punk.  I saw dozens of bands there in the space of a couple of years, sometimes two or three times a week; it was also where my sister's ears nearly bled after she'd had the pleasure of a Motorhead set; where I first met Mr SDS, and where his band cut their teeth.  It was the regular haunt of the Newtown Neurotics; I watched Wayne County there before he became Jayne, Adam & the Ants pre-Dirk Wears White Sox, plus the Passions, Crass, the Jolt, UK Subs, the Automatics, Purple Hearts, Disco Zombies, ... mod bands, heavy metal bands, crappy bands, bands with one-legged singers, many many bands.  I feel very lucky.

It was also where I saw my first full frontal male nude.  Perhaps I should explain...

Prior to it being primarily a music venue, it was an Arts Centre, started up in the early '70s.  My mum was a keen supporter so, long before I was going there as a teenage ligger getting tipsy on cider, I was exposed to its cultural delights in the form of poetry readings, puppet shows, sitar performances, macramé exhibitions, yoghurt-knitting contests, that kind of thing.

When was it, some time in the mid-70s, about 1973/'74?  Children's TV programme 'Vision On' was compulsive viewing after school, oh how I loved Tony Hart (he'd have been one of my 'fantasy dads') and Pat Keysell seemed really kind. The Burbles... the Prof ... and then, do you remember there was also a very bendy, beardy man who only appeared on there for a short while?  I liked him. I just looked his name up: Ben Benison.  (Bendy, beardy Ben Benison, I won't forget that now)  Always dressed in black - ring any bells?  Anyway, Mum came home with tickets for an event being held one evening at 'Triad' and the blurb said that the small improvisational theatre group who'd be performing included Ben Benison from 'Vision On'.  Ooh, I was very excited at the thought of seeing him in the flesh.  We had front row seats too!

Now I can't remember that much about the show in general but yes it was all about improvisation and it was packed with an appreciative audience which was mostly adults but included several kids like me (no doubt also fans of  the 'Vision On' Gallery, animated plasticine and bendy men).  All was going so well, until those wacky thespians on stage asked the audience to suggest some themes around which to develop an improvised comedy piece, and someone called out,

"A desert island!"

Ok, so whose bright idea was it to take all their clothes off  in the rather questionable character of an 'uncivilised desert island native'?  Actually, no, it wasn't Ben Benison.  But it was one of the other actors, and he came right out onto that stage in the nude without even some well-placed genital cupping.

Right out onto that stage, and right in front of me.

As a naive young girl I actually found myself, well, so embarrassed that I couldn't move my head, which meant I couldn't look away.  It was like I was paralysed, staring straight at a man who was completely naked and fully grown (no, not that kind of fully grown, but still...) and seeing things I hadn't seen before.

This is the point in the story where I'd like you to imagine an eerie whistling sound, like the wind on the moors, and a ball of tumbleweed rolling past....

Awkward silence.  Or maybe a few choked coughs.  And a few families hurriedly getting out of their seats and leaving (although for some reason not mine).  The show finished soon after...

...but what has been seen cannot be unseen.

As you might imagine, there was some furore afterwards and I vaguely remember my mum telling her friends and there being a lot of angry letters in the local newspaper, there may even have been calls to get the venue closed down.  Would it create more? - or less? - or the same amount? - of controversy now, I wonder? It was just a naked man, nothing sexual, but these lines are so blurred.

Still, I'm so glad that the venue stayed open, as my life would not have been the same without it once all the bands came to play there (fully clothed).


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