Covered up, uncovered (and a Part Two)

Twenty out of twenty!  Congrats and many thanks to all who played along with last week's album cover puzzle, every one of them was solved by you - and very quickly too.  The full images are at the bottom of this post just to confirm your expert identification skills.  But before that, I've been snipping more bits out of other sleeve artwork - so if you're up for a Part Two to while away the minutes (or maybe that should be mere seconds judging by the last lot), here are twenty more:

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Whose and which albums are the above sections taken from?  

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THE ANSWERS FOR LAST WEEK ARE:

 1. Lemonheads - It's A Shame About Ray

2. Kate Bush - The Kick Inside

3. Deep Purple - In Rock

4. Prince & the Revolution- Purple Rain

5. Fairport Convention - Unhalfbricking

6. Marvin Gaye - What's Going On

7. Siouxsie & The Banshees - A Kiss In The Dreamhouse

8. Blondie - Autoamerican

9. Eagles - Hotel California

 

10. David Bowie - The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars

11. Billy Bragg - Life's A Riot With Spy Vs Spy

12. Talk Talk - The Colour of Spring

  

13. The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds

14. Julian Cope - Fried

15. Abba - Abba

   

16. Ash - Meltdown

17. Bob Dylan - Blonde on Blonde

18. Massive Attack - Protection

19. Saint Etienne - Fox Base Alpha

20. Roxy Music - Avalon

Covered up

Are you up for an extra helping of puzzle solving nonsense as we trudge through these dark December days?  Following in the wake of my fellow bloggers and the joyous challenges presented by Rol, Ernie, Alyson, John  and Martin I thought I'd put a little something together too.  Alas, my days of genetic engineering in the form of Mystery Lovechild are probably over (for those who remember - I hope the nightmares have passed).  It was very labour-intensive as, to keep track of exactly which features were whose, I did it all manually and methodically.  Maybe I'll revive them one day in true Dr Frankenstein style but for now they rest (un)easy.  So, as a replacement visual puzzle, I wondered about this.  Every picture below is a small section of an album cover and all you have to do is identify it.  Please feel free to suggest your answers in the comments, and also, do let me know if you think it's too easy or too hard (I just can't tell!) - and if you would like some more?

Answers to be uncovered next Tuesday. Hope you enjoy!

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What a Count

 'He looks like a man who could tame anything.  If he had married a tigress, instead of a woman, he would have tamed the tigress...'*

I've been romping voraciously through the eras in my reading matter lately, and after spending time in a surrealistic, folk horror near future, 1950s science fiction and a 1970s urban childhood (perhaps more on those another day), have just finished the highly successful 1860 'mystery thriller', The Woman In White by Wilkie Collins.  

I loved it for many reasons but, oh, against my better judgement perhaps, I've also become curiously enamoured with the most charming and flamboyant of villains, as well as with the author's fantastic ability to so lucidly conjure up and colour in this particularly unique character: Count Fosco.  How on earth do you come up with such an imagined person?  Once he'd made his first appearance, I longed for the Count's presence on every page, picturing and hearing him so vividly, perhaps more strongly than any other literary persona I've come across - and yet he is unlike anyone I could ever know in real life.  Hopefully!

Count Fosco is sixty years old, as corpulent as Henry the Eighth, plump-fingered, with a facial resemblance to Napoleon, appears to wear a wig, possesses a double chin, has a devilish fondness for a fruit tart or four, and yet...

'...I think the influence I am trying to find in him is in his eyes.  They are the most unfathomable grey eyes I ever saw, and they have at times a cold, clear, beautiful, irresistible glitter in them which forces me to look at him, and yet causes me sensations, when I do look, which I would rather not feel.'*

This Italian nobleman is superbly cultured, highly intellectual, urbane and well-dressed too...

'A blue blouse with profuse white fancy-work over the bosom covered his prodigious body, and was girt about the place where his waist might once have been with a broad scarlet leather belt.  Nankeen trousers, displaying more white fancy-work over the ankles, and purple morocco slippers, adorned his lower extremeties.'

But it's his eccentricity which really sets him apart.  He can sleep and awaken at will, plays the concertina (most theatrically!) in the garden and keeps his beloved pet white mice (which he lets scamper all over him and pop in and out of his waistcoat) in a tiny, colourful pagoda which he designed and made himself.  What's not to like?

Count Fosco (just as I imagined him before seeing this!) with Marian Halcombe,

wood engraving by John McLenan 1860

Have you read it - if so, did Count Fosco mesmerise you as he did me?  Do you have a favourite literary villain whom it's impossible to dislike in spite of their evil-doing?  Please point me their way!  I am ready to be led astray.

*As written by the book's plucky feminist heroine, Marian Halcombe

A ghost story for Hallowe'en

Everything described here really happened.

 "Ooh, I think you must have seen a ghost!" my friend S suggested excitedly, as we sat at breakfast in a Norwich hotel, the morning after the Edwyn Collins gig.  As her words sunk in I felt a slight tingle, the clichéd shiver down my spine - the thought had never occurred to me.  But I'd just been telling my two pals about an experience I'd had soon after entering my bedroom the previous day when we checked in.  And I was only telling them because in retrospect I'd thought it quite funny - comedically funny, I mean.  It was certainly memorable.

I'd just arrived in my room and, if you'll excuse me, I was really very desperate for a wee after the journey, so I'd hurriedly plonked my overnight bag down on the floor just inside and headed straight for the loo in the tiny ensuite bathroom.  Unbuckled my belt, unzipped my jeans, etc... when half way through relieving myself, aargh! - there was a knock on the room door.  "Just a minute!" I called out urgently, but I wasn't sure I'd be heard from there.  It'll be my friend L, I thought; her room was a bit further down the creaky-floored corridor, maybe she needed me for something.  I expected her to wait or knock again but... suddenly... I heard the room door opening - someone must be coming in! Oh no!  I quickly tried to finish what I was doing, frantically pulling up my clothes as best I could, and ran out of the bathroom - never mind that my jeans were still unzipped and I hadn't had time to do up my belt - what if someone is stealing my bag...?

"But it was this very small old lady," I explained, as I continued the story to my friends next morning.  "A chambermaid, you know, black clothes. Very thin with long grey hair. She had these really blue eyes, but they were sunken, sort of hollow looking, dark circles round them - she didn't look at all well, really, rather sad-faced, poor woman.  And there was me, standing there all dishevelled with my jeans gaping open and my belt dangling, wondering what on earth was going on!  She just asked something, opened a drawer, looked inside the wardrobe and then left.  But, argh, how embarrassing...!"  

It was at this point that S suggested, much to my surprise, that I may have had a spooky visitation.  "I'm pretty sure this place is supposed to be haunted," she added. Of course, I then wanted to delve a little deeper into the hotel's history... so I checked.

My room was in one of the older parts of the establishment, an impressive building dating back to the 13th Century, with ancient beams, long winding corridors, narrow staircases and sash windows, and in Tudor times it had been a busy coaching inn.  And yes, the hotel was indeed rumoured to be haunted.  Stories abound of a long-gone innkeeper who wanders around checking that everything is still in order, of a giggling child who can be heard but not seen, of a 17th Century Mayor who walks the corridors shaking his head.  And of the ghost of a forlorn-looking but kindly older lady who had been a chambermaid centuries ago, checking the rooms and still going about her duties...

My spine tingled a little more strongly and goosebumps appeared on my arms... oh, I wonder, I wonder if...?

The thin lady in her maid's uniform did look deathly pale and she was certainly old-fashioned with an air of sadness, - or bewilderment, perhaps - but with a kindness in her somewhat sunken eyes.  And it was rather strange that she'd just come into the room like that unexpectedly, briefly searched it and then, with silent footsteps, left.

"I reckon she was that ghost!" ventured S.  "What was it she asked you?"

I thought back to that moment when the old woman's hollow eyes met mine, a slightly flustered look on her gaunt, sallow face.  What was it she'd said to me?  Oh yes.  "She asked if I needed a bag for the hairdryer..."

Simply thrilled, honey

Well, I'm still riding high on the fantastic experience of seeing Edwyn Collins on Monday night. Songs I  haven't heard in years,  such as 'Blue Boy' and 'I Can't Help Myself',  echo around my head, accompanied by remnants of the warm glow - a warm, emotional glow - which filled the entire hall and certainly my heart.  Clichéd though it may be to say so, the love in the room was palpable.

Whilst I would like to be able to pen a proper review, other people have done so far better than I could and thus I refer you to the superb write-ups (and photos) of other dates on the Testimonial Tour by my fellow bloggers Khayem and JC.  The performance in Norwich was slightly different (Edwyn's son Will didn't join him on a stage as he did elsewhere) but otherwise everyone witnessing his "last lap around the UK" has been treated to a fine selection of tunes spanning both Orange Juice and solo careers, from the beginning (kicking off with 'Falling and Laughing') to the most recent ('Knowledge' from the current album 'Nation Shall Speak Unto Nation') and some absolute gems in between.

Edwyn Collins: Knowledge (2025)

So I won't detail what's already been said by others but just come from my personal experience - oh, what an uplifting and moving happening it was for many reasons. Such admiration, appreciation and gratitude flowed out from surely every single soul in the audience to the man himself.  I'm not embarrassed to say that there were several instances when the tears just poured down my cheeks, and I'm not even sure exactly why (they came at moments when I wasn't expecting them).  Maybe it really was a spiritual thing: a coming together of joyfulness and thanks for the music, and of awe for Edwyn himself too.

All due credit must go to the band too, of course; there was a brilliant rapport on stage and particular mention should be given to guitarist Patrick Ralla who'd already gifted us with his playing in support act The Hanging Stars, of whom he's a permanent member.  Two solid performances in one night, and just a quick change of jacket and T-shirt in between!   Talking of which, I'd really been looking forward to seeing The Hanging Stars and absolutely loved them - very much up my street, being reminiscent of the jangly, psych and country-tinged, sixties-influenced bands I listened to avidly in the '80s.  It was fab to see them perform some of my favourite tracks from their back catalogue such as 'Happiness Is A Bird', 'Sweet Light' and 'Black Light Night', as well as their excellent new single, 'Sister Of The Sun'.  

The Hanging Stars: Black Light Night (2022)

And then there was the audience.  A sea of silver heads for the most part, and what a sweet comfort there is to be had in that, what with all our specs glinting in the lights too. The reminder that in spite of it we're all still part of the same thing, part of the tribe who tuned into John Peel under the bedclothes, and knew what it meant to buy an obscure 7" single from Small Wonder or Andy's or Revolver or wherever it was, either the local murky, musty record shop or the mail order one listed in the back pages of the NME.  Although it was a seated venue (how very civilised! and we drank wine!), there were those who couldn't resist giving their enthusiastic indie moves some free range in the aisles, only to be ushered back gently by security guards half their age.  Rebels!

After the gig my two companions and I - we three have been friends for over 50 years - wandered merrily back through the streets to our hotel, high on the music and solidarity with strangers.  The air was still and mild, and the full moon absolutely glowed, it almost seemed symbolic - the year's first supermoon. Back in my room I drifted off to sleep around 1am feeling more uplifted than I could even have imagined, the punctuating fuzz guitar riff of 'A Girl Like You' on repeat in my head.  What a glorious night.  I might even have had an encounter with a ghost in the ancient hotel too, which perhaps I'll write about another time. But for now I must thank Edwyn Collins, his band, and the Hanging Stars, for inspiring me at last to actually put a new post up here!