I reckon it's time for something ridiculous. pointless and a complete waste of time; even more so than usual, I mean. Another instalment of The Mystery Lovechild!
If you've been around for past 'mystery lovechild' posts you may remember the premise:
What might the secret offspring, born to a famous but unlikely set of musical parents, look like?
Previously, for instance, it turned out that the oddly familiar-looking character below was the (alleged) result of an (alleged) furtive fumble between Rod Stewart and Stevie Nicks. Apparently it all started when he asked her if she thought he was sexy. That night was the night, but it seems it wasn't big love after all and she told him to go his own way - and that must be why he doesn't want to talk about it.
But every picture tells a story...
So here are some more, frankly very peculiar-looking offspring whose parents need identifying. I'd love to know who you think could be responsible for such reckless and terrifying distribution of their genes.
No rush, no prizes, but I hope they make you smile rather than throw up.
It's brilliant how the brief mention of something in a blog can trigger thoughts in others' minds too, so it was really lovely to see recent posts by my dear fellow bloggers Alyson and The Swede on the subject of...
..Hats!
However, they took theirs one step further and each included a lovely photo of themselves in some very dapper headwear too. It seems only right therefore that I should take up the gauntlet thrown down by Alyson at the weekend to try and find an image of myself also wearing a rather bippity-boppity hat. Not easy!
So the image above is from 1986 - it's a screenshot from a little DIY film, which was such a novelty at the time as we really weren't used to being in front of a camera and seeing ourselves that way. Some friends in a band* wanted to make a video about themselves, and this is from an afternoon in the rehearsal studio where Mr SDS and I were invited to watch whilst their manager mate nearly buckled under the weight of a huge, hired, shoulder-supported Camcorder. Thus I donned my finest (posey!) garb for the occasion and made a cameo appearance. I also smoked a lot of cigarettes.
How was 1986 for you? What were you listening to? The charts were full of Five Star and Simply Red, and there was very little new stuff around that was floating my boat. I was 23 and had been discovering '60s psychedelia and beat, the US 'Nuggets' and 'Pebbles' albums, all that kind of thing. I've written about my love of that '60s revival period here before, and how it seems strange looking back to be so young but getting into music that was (or seemed at the time) so old. But this music was new tomyears, and that was enough. It was so fresh and exciting to be exposed to it for the first time, and fantastic to have so much to delve into from previously unplundered archives.
Songs like this: Rupert's People - Hold On (1967)
Having a whole new genre of music to investigate brought with it too an interest in the fashions, attitudes and ephemera of its original era and I scoured the charity shops for dated clothes (including that hat), wishing myself back to a fantasy version of life where I might have shopped at the 'Granny Takes A Trip' boutique on the Kings Road or seen a trippy band at the UFO Club. But the reality was quite different - perhaps that's why. We were still in the midst of the Thatcher years, renting a shitty top-floor flat with peeling wallpaper in a new town well-known for the ubiquity of its concrete.
Granny Takes A Trip
Still - I had the pleasure of working in a record shop and spending my wages on interesting vinyl. It was through this that I discovered other bands who didn't originate from the '60s but who still wanted to revive or at least borrow something from that whole era. Paisley Underground, Garage Revival, call it what you will... it ticked a lot of boxes. It meant you could do more than just stick on a twenty-year-old record and dream yourself back to some idealised version of the past, instead you could go see a band the same age as you, making similar exciting sounds in real time. Things evolved too, different elements were thrown into the mix by these new bands - not only was there the mod influence but there was a hint of the punk ethos about it too, if that makes sense. Fuzzy guitars or contemporary lyrics and more radical haircuts or over-the-top cover designs - something with a harder, brasher edge was going on which fitted in to the contemporary setting. We had bands like the Godfathers and the Prisoners here in the UK, alongside Scandinavian groups such as the Nomads and the Backdoor Men; there were the Fuzztones from New York (and many more).
The Fuzztones: Bad News Travels Fast
Anyway, I'm waffling on but just wanted to put the above image into context. It's how I came to be watching a young new band rehearse in 1986 and yet didn't feel out-of-place in a pair of '60s style granny glasses and a bippity-boppity hat! *Just in case they ever stumble upon this, for the sake of anonymity/privacy I've missed out the band's name. But we thought they were great.
I have long wondered what a bippity boppity hat looks like -
haven’t we all?
But I was thinking, if ever there was a
time to start wearing one it must be now, with the current widespread despair
about our uncut / unstyled hair. I jest, but still...
I’m imagining it could have feathers, or sequins perhaps (to
go with the satin tat).Would it pull
down over the ears? Or have a wide brim?
I found some women's hats from the early 1900s that strike me as being very bippity boppity.
Bowie’s memorable lyric also puts me in mind of a character
from a James Thurber children’s book, The 13 Clocks.I have a copy tucked away; it’s a great fairy story, but a detail which has stayed with me most vividly is that a central character, known as the Golux, wears an
“indescribable hat”.
“He wore an indescribable hat, his eyes were wide and
astonished, as if everything were happening for the first time, and he had a
dark, describable beard…”
Is that not brilliant?
Thurber was blind by the time he wrote The 13 Clocks and could not
add his own images as he'd done in the past, so he got his friend, Marc
Simont, to illustrate it for him.He
then asked Simont to describe all his illustrations; Simont was unable to
describe the hat.Thurber was, quite
rightly, satisfied.
The Golux in his indescribable hat, as illustrated by Marc Simont
My copy is illustrated equally charmingly by Ronald Searle
Anyway, when it comes to some hats I would like to wear to disguise lockdown hair, I love the look of some from the 1920s.
If you're male (although not necessarily), maybe one of these would take your fancy?
Or something more flamboyant perhaps? It would make our daily exercise allowances so much more interesting.
Berets are a favourite of mine and I actually have a few, but I
seldom wear them. If only I could appear this cute
but I reckon the reality is more like this nowadays...wot with me glasses an' that.
It’s an up and down kind of time, isn’t it - thinking/worrying about stuff, people and livelihoods, trying not to overdose on the news, checking on friends, feeling indebted to all those keeping things going.Then needing to give yourself some breaks, get lost in levity and little bits of normality and trivia wherever possible.I think that’s just going to be a
pattern for a while now.
So, like an obedient dogI took my daily walk yesterday and gave myself time
to think some silly thoughts.My walk incorporated a stop at the shop to buy
some essentials – only a short list but a bottle of wine included, essential surely. It was colder than I expected and every step felt like I
was waging war against that northerly wind, one of those that’s so icy and
strong it seemed to lock my features into what I can only imagine was a horrifying
grimace.
It was an interesting study in behaviour, though, and I guess
many are experiencing this on our eerily quiet streets:that each time another person came towards me
on the pavement or path, one of us would actually stop, pull in and give way to
let the other walk by at a safe distance. I realised it was exactly as if we were each
driving an imaginary car (mine’s an E-type Jag then please, may as well go for
the full fantasy). Just like motoring down a narrow lane and using a passing place, with a little wave of
the hand to say thank you. Maybe we should all start wearing miniature headlights on
our coats that we could flash at each other, just to save any confusion, especially if it gets foggy.
Making the most of my outdoor exercise allowance I took a
diversion along my favourite lane, noticing a pile of plucked feathers
in the grass verge signifying a recent sparrowhawk attack (either that or
someone really has got desperate on finding empty shelves in Tesco).I could hear a chiffchaff in the tall lime
trees, it’s a lovely sign of Spring.If
you don’t know already it’s very easy to identify the call of a
chiffchaff.It goes chiff chaff, chiff
chaff… And there were already newborn
lambs in the field, all wobbly black legs and curious faces. I know I'm lucky, things feel more normal when you’re
surrounded by nature.
A chiffchaff
Most chiffchaffs migrate to warmer climates for the Winter
and return here to breed in Spring and Summer.
I found myself thinking (this is the silly, trivial
thinking) about how, when this is over, we might all come out of it looking like
something from the ‘70s.It’s the
haircuts I started with – are we all letting it grow wild, or
risking a dodgy home trim from an unqualified family member?The last time I properly cut anyone’s hair
was in the '70s.... and that was a doll's...(If only I'd realised her long glossy locks actually originated from just a handful of broadly spaced plugs! I was so mortified in case my mum found out what I'd done that I hid her in a box for a year).Will pudding basins and
comb-overs become fashionable again?
What
about teeth?Perhaps classic vintage ivory will
make a comeback, now there are no professional whitening services open for
those who like their gnashers to glow like ultraviolet light.Botox-addicts may learn to embrace their
wrinkles and the lips of many female celebrities may finally return to normal human
size; body hair will flourish again at last in the comfort of its own home.
And we’ll wear down the heels and soles on our
footwear so much through all this daily walking that, with no heel bars open, we’ll
decide to revert to longer-lasting platform shoes and boots…
I finished my walk and as my frozen face thawed out and my
hands lathered up the soap, I allowed myself a little (20-second) escapist reverie – a vivid image
of a whole new world of very hairy, yellow-toothed, wrinkly, 1970s-throwback, platform-boot-wearing
cave-dwellers emerging blinking into the light. We'll all have terribly chapped hands too.
I've been struggling with knowing how to pitch blog posts and words in general at the moment. I've decided for me at least distraction is beneficial, a way of keeping things as 'normal' as possible, and I really hope this doesn't appear flippant or insensitive. It's just one way of coping and trying to offset the deluge of intense anxiety and very real issues and uncertainties that dominate and affect all our lives right now. I don't want to go there in my blog as well and to continue writing about unconnected things in a familiar way is a form of expression/outlet which helps keep me grounded; a stable, trivial place away from the rest. But I'm aware this may not be the same for everyone, so I do hope anyone coming here will understand.
Thus today I'm just writing about art.
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As I
sloshed shiny brown paint onto an over-sized sausage formed from lumps of foam
wrapped in paper, I had no idea about Bauhaus.I don’t mean the band – although
they were soon to lure me into torn black lace dresses – I mean the art
movement.But I realise now that one of
the very first projects we were given on my Foundation Art course was directly
influenced by it.The original Bauhaus
Art School founder, Walter Gropius, was
keen to encourage problem-solving and experimentation in different media, and
60 years later my college tutor Stella did the same.It was a basic introduction to the study of
elementary form, materials, colour and craftsmanship.
The
resulting artwork, a collaborative effort, was a giant hot-dog, around 4 feet
long, made with discarded objects and materials unearthed from studio rubbish
bins and the like.I can’t remember now
if the things we found inspired the idea of a hot-dog, or if we were inspired
by someone’s lunch.It doesn’t matter –
in true Bauhaus style we experimented with materials, solved construction problems and
thus transformed foam and paper,
Copydexand paint into a supersized
weenie, complete with plastic Ketchup and woodchip sesame seeds.
Ah, such
carefree, creative days and yet did I truly appreciate them? I don’t think I did.
So when I
see art students now I get that whole feelingback, but wish I could do it all again and not be so overwhelmed by all the silly things that most 17-year olds are overwhelmed by (or were then!).Seeing fresh-faced art students, so often deep-thinking,
slightly misfit kids with a taste for strangely matched clothes, gives
me a genuine lift. I think it's because it reminds me of all those opportunities to explore
and experiment, to learn and be playful, in a field which really, when you think
about it, is something of an indulgence.However, perhaps given the situation we find ourselves in at the moment, we might appreciate the undemanding pleasure of some art for art’s sake more than ever.
This is
exactly what I felt the other night on watching the recent TV documentary about
the Bauhaus School on BBC Four ('Bauhaus Rules', still available on iPlayer here - interesting soundtrack too). The delightful Jim Moir aka Vic
Reeves took us to Central Saint Martinswhere we met some young graduates who would spend a week working on
various projects subject to the ‘rules’ inspired by the original Bauhaus artists who
taught it. From strange breathing exercises to a themed costume party and much in between it's a crash course I would happily sign up to now if it existed.. Oh, I wanted to be back in Stella's Foundation Art class, just starting out, feeling as if we're pushing boundaries (from the
safe haven of an educational institution!), wide-eyed and curious (and sometimes a little defiant). We oscillated between the opposing states of
either taking oneself far too seriously or having ridiculous, unbridled fun, between being a quiet introvert on the one hand and having a distinct taste for the outrageous on the other.
Anyway, in the
programme, the students are set projects by established creatives from different
disciplines who have all been inspired by the Bauhaus design principles.One of these is Neville Brody and I was
reminded just how much I love his graphic style and typography, with which many of
us of a certain age are so familiar, thanks to his work in ‘The Face’ magazine.
Once you
become aware of a certain Bauhaus style, you see it all around too, from chair designs to clocks to album cover artwork.
If you have some extra time on your hands and you’re into art, or perhaps anything a little left field (and/or Jim/Vic) I recommend losing yourself in this programme and the joy of art student thinking for a short
while.And even if not, maybe now is the time
to abandon our genuine worries for a brief moment, turn to some easy escapism and playtime from the safety of our own homes, and set ourselves the task of making
something creative and unexpected.
Art and music are great therapy, aren't they? So what better reason to write a bit more in the coming weeks on two of my favourite subjects and try to keep this blog alive and kicking while many will no doubt be joining me in the working-from-home ranks. To help get me back into it I revisited some old series that I'd started on here long ago (seeing as I never seem to get past 2 or 3 'editions'), and one that sprang to mind recently (thanks to watching Jim Moir aka Vic Reeves' brilliant documentary about the Bauhaus art movement) was a tribute to my days studying art and design at college. There was so much going on musically too. More soon if I can get my act together, but in the meantime I hope you won't mind some repetition from several years back, just to get things flowing again.
Here's where I left off...
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Much as I would love to claim to be the artist behind this poster, all credit must go to Simon, who was in the year above me at college and designed and drew this for a party in 1980. (If you should happen to stumble upon this, Simon, then I hope you won't mind me reproducing it here. I also hope you're still drawing!) I think it's a great piece of graphic illustration, especially considering he was only 18 when he created it.
I've kept it for all these years because, much to my great surprise at the time, a good friend and I were immortalised in it. That's me, apparently, top centre, wearing fishnets and brandishing a cutlass, showing more feistiness (and flesh) than I think I ever did in real life. My beautiful college mate is nearby looking suitably sultry in a Cleopatra get-up. There are one or two others in the crowd which are wonderful caricatures of our fellow students, and I like the fact that Bowie and Jordan (the original) have made a guest appearance in the pic; sadly they never made one at college. All in all it kind of sums up 1980 art school life for me.
Even though I didn't make it to the actual party (I can't remember why), I can probably tell you fairly accurately what would have been played there. Musically 1980 had some interesting things to offer. A quick look at the year's indie charts reveals that the best-selling bands included acts as diverse as Dead Kennedys, Spizzenergi, Joy Division and Crass but in December's UK Top 40 you could hear Abba one minute and AC/DC the next, not forgetting singles by ELO, Kate Bush, Clash, Madness, Spandau Ballet, oh and... St Winifred's School Choir... what an odd mixture. That month, John Peel aired sessions by the Raincoats, Theatre of Hate and Red Beat.
The murder of John Lennon just a couple of weeks before this party was shocking but, you know, I remember it didn't really touch me in any significant way at the time – unlike the deaths of Malcolm Owen and Ian Curtis earlier that same year.
Following a
conversation in the kitchen this morning in which we mused upon the dilemma of
what to eat if the shops become bare – ignoring the rather throwaway suggestion
of consuming our own effluence (which would at least save on toilet paper) -we made some decisions.
My mother-in-law would survive on the
countless packets of biscuits which she’s been accumulating in her cupboard since 2009, Mr
SDS would tuck into his many pairs of cheap sunglasses which he feels compelled
to get each time he passes one of those carousels in the garden centre, and I would feast upon my stash
of 2H pencils (they last longer) washed down with Permanent White gouache.
Quickie post: Heard on 6Music today, and you know when your ears just prick up and you stop what you're doing - it's just too good not to want to say "Hey, what do you think of this, I love it!" in the hope that someone else will agree. Reminds me, sort of, of the more melodic elements of New Model Army... there must be others that I can't bring to mind too at this moment but it's got that whole bouncy, aggressively energetic post-punk feel to it... '80/'81, Peel... you know what I mean. Probably a very appropriate title for many of us on this spinning rock right now too. Apparently the band, Talk Show, are from South London. Some great healthy stuff going on in the music scene right now it seems to me - will be listening out for more.
