Teo's Last Playback

31 Zeus - Year 87 p.s.U.

I only just found out yesterday, while listening to Stuart Maconie's Freak Zone, that famed record producer Teo Macero passed away on February 19th. Maconie played a track from Miles Davis' Sketches Of Spain album and noted that it was a "tribute of sorts" to Macero. That seemed to be an ominous comment, so I checked on-line and it does appear that Teo's gone.

He was born into a middle-class life in Glens Falls, New York and after a stint in the U.S. Navy, studied at the Julliard School in New York City. Macero met Charles Mingus in the early 1950s and co-founded the Jazz Composers Workshop. He recorded a few albums with Mingus and the J.C.W., then moved into production when he signed on as a Columbia Records staff member in 1957. As a kind of "house jazz producer", Macero handled duties on a number of "big" albums, the most famous being Dave Brubeck's Time Out (which contained the massive 'hit', Take Five).

Teo really hit his stride, of course, when he became Davis' regular producer through Miles' most creative and exploratory period, the mid-60s through the mid-70s. In that decade, Miles seemed to be one step (or maybe three steps) ahead of the rest of the jazz world and most of the rock/pop world as well. Records like In A Silent Way and Bitches Brew sounded literally like nothing else at the time, and it was Teo's contributions as much as Davis' and his proteges/sidemen's playing that made them such legendary pieces. When he first started working with Miles, Macero had the usual producer's role of setting the levels of the soundboard and mixing the session recordings. Occasionally, as on the "Sketches.." orchestral parts, he added textures and colouring to the music.

"In A Silent Way" was probably the first album where Macero sparked his own ingenious revolution. Miles had the band jam for long sessions and he wanted to include a lot of these parts on the LP. Teo reportedly refused, saying "I'll get fired and you'll get fired." He told Davis to leave the tapes with him and he would work on them. The way he worked on them was by cutting the tapes up and then splicing various sections together to form a new whole that was quite different from the original sessions. In a sense, Macero had used William S. Burroughs' "cut-up" style, only in an audio context, not a literary one. He had created what could be called "organic artifice", because the finished album sounds as if the band are playing the pieces in "real time"--not separate sessions spliced together with seamless edits. Still, for all of Teo's studio magic, "In A Silent Way" seems to have a linear quality--he would perfect his cut-ups on the next one, "Bitches Brew".

Miles assembled a top-notch band in August 1969, with many "big name" players (some, like John McLaughlin, weren't well-known but would go on to become veritable super-stars in the jazz scene) and again they jammed. This time, though, a strange "fusion" of James Brown funk, Sly & The Family Stone psychedelic R&B, Jimi Hendrix cosmic blues and some modal jazz emerged. Again, Teo worked with the session tapes, splicing and stitching until another record was created--a double album, no less. "Bitches Brew" is subtitled "Directions In Music" and it lives up to the hype, to my ears anyway. Some of the music seems far more sinister and the individual instruments become lost in a whirlwind of sound. Pieces like Spanish Key and Pharaoh's Dance move in such non-linearity that it becomes difficult to believe it's the work of essentially the same set of people as "In A Silent Way". Miles and Macero raised the bar for both jazz and rock at the same time, quite a singular triumph. Jazz purists didn't agree, however, and Davis received the same reactions as Bob Dylan had when he 'went electric' at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965. Some leftovers from the "Brew" sessions would eventually be released as Big Fun in 1974.

Teo didn't stop there and for the next Miles Davis album, after the 1971 jazz-rock tour-de-force A Tribute To Jack Johnson, decided to strip the groove down to it's essence. The legendary On The Corner seems to be largely made up of tape loops, blended together to form a kind of urban robotic funk. The 20-minute suite that made up the entire first side of the LP features a static 4/4 beat, with the other instruments dropping in and out of the mix almost randomly: McLaughlin's swamp-skronk guitar, Colin Walcott's sitar drones, Michael Henderson's bopping bass, Davis' trumpet vamps and the keyboards all weave around each other in delirious patterns. I'm not even sure if this "was" jazz anymore (of course, many critics decided that it "wasn't"), but it seems like a mutant strain of the "Brew" formula. Given that there are so many loops running through the tracks, the music has surprising "space". The opening of Black Satin attests to this. Featuring a tabla beat, growling synth tones, sitar drones and whistling--every note is clear, yet they all combine in a strange segue before the actual track starts. The second side seems to be one big loop itself, with the "Black Satin" theme running through all of the tunes. "On The Corner" can be a daunting listen for the uninitiated, but it's impact on future funkateers and turntablists seems undeniable.

After that, a few more studio sessions in 1973 and '74 resulted in the 70s swansong Get Up With It double-set. The music returns to a "Bitches Brew" density and while some of it seems to have a small spark of innovation, much just sounds like Miles & Co. going through the motions. Davis kept up a punishing live schedule, playing ferociously with changing line-ups. Sometimes almost everyone on stage was equipped with a wah-wah pedal, including the keyboardists. The intensity of these shows can be heard on live records like Pangaea, Agharta & Dark Magus. Near the end of 1975, Miles was burned out from drug problems and other personal difficulties so he decided to take a long sabbatical--similar to rock icon John Lennon's "retirement", for the remainder of the decade. Teo continued producing other acts and Miles' proteges dominated mid-to-late 70s jazz in fusion bands like Return To Forever, Mahavishnu Orchestra and Weather Report.

Teo and Davis teamed up one last time, for the The Man With The Horn album, released in 1981 during Miles' "comeback" period. It's passable as a funky jazz record, but the rampant experimentalism of 1972 had been replaced with a somewhat more 'radio friendly' sound. Davis passed away in 1992, after recording another six or seven albums. His final studio record was Doo-Bop, a rather tepid hybrid of hip-hop turntablism and jazz. Now that Macero has gone, one of the most prolific artist/producer collaborations in recent history has completely finished.

The Teo Macero/William Burroughs connection may be tenuous. I don't know if Macero was influenced by Burroughs' writing--I think his cut-ups may have been more of a studio necessity than a bold experiment in sound, though that's what it turned out to become. There may be a slight connection in Bill Laswell. In 1998, an album called Panthalassa was released. "Panthalassa" was a 'remix' of fusion-era Miles by Laswell--utilising master tapes and some out-takes--essentially cut-ups of cut-ups. Laswell also worked with Burroughs on the Road To The Western Lands disc, which was a series of remixes of a song first recorded by Laswell's band Material. It's possible that Teo had a "non-simultaneous apprehension" of the cut-up process which yielded some of the most original music of the last 40 years.

Oh, So That's What They're Singing

23 Adar I - Year 5768

Some clever cats have gone and deciphered the lyrics to Carl Orff's Carmina Burana. Check this out! That guy was waaaaaay ahead of his time. (Thanks to L-Dopa for the link)

Seasons They Change

25 Vaisakha - Year 51 (Saka Era)

I received an e-mail from Singing Bear last night, telling me of his decision to bow out of "Blog Is Not..". He has been carefully ruminating on the topic for a few weeks. Ultimately, it is his choice to remain or not--and I stand by his choice.

He's had a rough couple of years and he has intimated that he's concentrating on his own spiritual journey more than anything else at the moment. It seems correct to me, that he would spread his wings and fly the coop to explore his own path more deeply. We wish the best to him and will support him whenever possible.

Pixie and I got to know Bear at the Flaming Lips BBS back in 2003 and he has been a great friend to both of us since. He was on the team of our last collaborative muso-blog, Pond Of Tunes and readily joined up at "Blog Is Not.." when I fired it up in 2006. I always enjoy his posts, filled with his wit and musical crits and observations. We will certainly miss him here.

The good news is, that Bear has started up a solo blog, called There It Isn't. It will chronicle his current adventures and interests and it can be found here.

That pretty much leaves me, my lovelies..MUAH-HA-HA-HA (*rubbing my hands together, mad-scientist stylee*). This blog started as a four-person collab., but quickly whittled down to two as Pixie prefers "The Bear Pit" and commenting here and Aloicious seems to have gone permanently a.w.o.l.--I kinda like having him as a 'silent partner', though, so we've kept his spot. The Bear and I kept the team spirit alive, but I suppose it could only last for so long...the only constant is change. I'll be back soon with more weirdness and nuggets from my noggin...check Bear's blog out!

The Doctor "Is" Out....

Sweetmorn, Chaos 51, Year of Our Lady of Discord 3174

I was visiting the Maybe Logic Academy forum today, as I hadn't been there in a few weeks. It was a bit of a "catch-up" session--but no-one was around while I was scoping out the threads.

In one of the forums, Borsky (a MLA regular), had posted about Dr. Christopher S. Hyatt passing away. Apparently, he left the planet on the 9th of February, after a protracted battle with cancer. He was 64 years old. The news came as a shock to me, so I checked his site and, indeed, it seems true. Hyatt, born Alan Miller, kept a lot of the detail of his life secret--or at least clouded enough to not reveal very much. He did reveal some of the facts in a few of his books, namely Undoing Yourself and Rebels and Devils. His teenage years seemed quite rough and he left school at 17, allegedly expelled for "drinking and dealing". He joined the U.S. Navy, finished his stint, got married and quickly divorced, after fathering a son.

He attended college--swapping an accounting major for psychology. Hyatt also began studying the occult techniques of Aleister Crowley and subsequently met Israel Regardie, Crowley's former secertary and member of the Golden Dawn, in the early 1970s. Regardie taught Hyatt the therapy of Wilhelm Reich and suggested that he use it before embarking on a serious magickal venture. After that...well, Hyatt joined up with a few occult organisations, including Crowley's O.T.O. (the Ordo Templis Orientis) and a revived Golden Dawn. He developed a system of "energized meditation", based on various disciplines of yoga and exercise, realised a philosophy of extreme individualism, married and divorced a few more times.

Hyatt was instrumental in the formation of New Falcon Publications, an indie imprint dedicated to occult and speculative titles. He himself contributed several books, as well as published some by Regardie, reprints by Crowley and providing a starting point for authors like Antero Alli, Camden Benares and Lon Milo DuQuette. More importantly, for my own education and edification, New Falcon became the near-exclusive publisher for Robert Anton Wilson, releasing almost all of his books in the 80s, 90s and 'Noughties'--including his final title, E-Mail To The Universe. In the past few years, Hyatt founded the "Extreme Individual Institute" and published 6 titles connected with it, while also holding seminars. I never attended any, as they were quite pricey and I would've had to fly out to Arizona, where he was based.

I did do the exercises in "Undoing Yourself..." for about a year and a half and found them very productive. I suspect they would have been more so, but I was only practising them once a week, instead of the three times suggested in the book. I only stopped because I decided to take up Hatha yoga and to do both three times a week would've been too much. I may start with Hyatt's energized meditation techniques again, when I've become more adept at yoga. I bought the Energized Hypnosis book, but I haven't read it yet. I enjoyed "Rebels And Devils", a collection of essays and artwork regarding the 'psychology of liberation' by Hyatt, Wilson and many others. I've also read The Psychopath's Bible, one of his more infamous titles. It makes for startling reading and does put one into an interesting head-space for a bit, but I'm not so sure about putting any of the techniques presented into action.

Hyatt did seem to have the ability to polarize opinions of him--some thought of him as a teacher and genius, others as a money-grubbing charlatan. As always with Aristotlean, "either/or" debates--the 'truth' may lie somewhere in between. For me, Hyatt was one of the lesser lights in the 'new era' counter-culture (with R.A.W. being my main influence)--but he has had an impact on myself and many others and for that I am grateful. R.I.P. Dr. Christopher S. Hyatt/Alan Miller--thank you for your words.

As a small post-script--there's a group who are dedicated to some of Hyatt's principles, though they are not actively affiliated with him. The group is called The Luciferian Society and their homepage is located here. I had a bit of a wander around and it seems like an interesting place. Be careful, though, they don't mess around with noobs--although they seem somewhat friendlier than the folks at the Principia Discordia forum. See you soon.

New Blog

Whilst continuing my commitment to Blog Is Not A Four-Letter Word, I have decided to start a new blog that will probably be just for a little 'creative writing' I'm trying to do.

You will find me at http://thereitisnt.blogspot.com/

I will add other features like links and further info when I get the time.

Constructive comments, observations and criticism always welcome.

Please come and have a look when you get the chance.

4 Years in Engerland...

13 Zeus - Year 87 (Poundian Calendar)

Seems really tough to believe...four years ago I boarded a plane at Logan Airport in Boston and roughly six hours later, landed at Heathrow Airport near London and never went back. Probably the bravest thing I've ever done so far in my fairly short lifetime.

Luckily, my Dearest was at the airport waiting for me and we embraced like we had when we first physically met just six months previously. I had my fiance visa and I was legal to stay in Britain...for six months anyway. We had to get married within that time, or I would have to leave again. We did and I'm still in Britain (with a 'permanent leave to remain' visa now--how's that phrase for a headscratcher?).

I had planned to escape from my birthplace, Connecticut, for quite some time. I grew up in East Hartford--a factory town just across the Connecticut river from the capital city. I suppose it was a nice town when I was very young--summer days seemed endless and the winters, though very cold, always brought plenty of snow for forts and sledding (or 'sledging' as it's known in Blighty). It was far from idyllic, but it was all I knew and so I tried to make the best of it. As I grew older, though, the town seemed to lose a lot of it's charm--this wasn't helped by the main employer, United Technologies/Pratt & Whitney, reducing it's workforce by a third. They would reduce it even further later on, effectively decimating the town's population as a lot of families moved away to go 'where the work is'. It's possible it wasn't that bad--as some of you may be picturing a Grapes Of Wrath scenario, but East Hartford just didn't seem the same.

My home situation occasionally became less than ideal as well--I won't go into detail, but I considered running away more than a few times. A couple of times I actually did, but only got to the next block before fear and the realisation that I didn't have any clue of what to do or where exactly to go, forced me to go back to the house to face my parents' jeering and the knowledge that I couldn't actually go through with it. In hindsight, I suppose that seems the wiser choice, as the horror stories of life on the streets abound and I probably would've ended up as just another statistic.

For a while in my teens, I planned to join the military and I figured that was as good as any plan to leave. I changed my mind, however, late in high-school and concentrated on college--preferably out of the country (the British Isles was my top choice). With my less-than-stellar academic record and non-existant portfolio (I was pursuing an architecture degree), I had no chance of getting accepted to Cork Technical College or a trade school in Dundee. I was accepted at Wentworth Institute of Technology in Boston and I decided to give it a shot. My father reluctantly agreed to pay for the first year only--but that was good enough for me at the time. Soon, I was ensconced in a cruddy studio apartment on Huntington Ave., with a room-mate from some small town in Massachusetts. For the first time in my life, though, I had some (relative) FREEDOM and it was such a liberating feeling. Whatever hardships I had to go through, at the very least I had no curfew, I could hang out with who I wanted and I didn't have to go to church on Sundays. That was a big deal to me then.

The money eventually ran out in my second year and I thought about staying on in Boston, trying to get a full-time job instead of going to school--but again, I wasn't sure where to stay and thought it best to journey back to the folks' place. All through my 20s, I would think of ways to get somewhere else. A couple of friends moved to Madison, Wisconsin and I briefly considered it, only the harsh winters put me off (one of those friends eventually moved back to Conn. himself). I thought about moving back to Boston, after finishing my studies for an associates degree and then remembered how expensive it can be. Another set of friends headed off to New York City and while that seemed exciting--the money factor caused me to hesitate (I also thought N.Y.C. might be a bit too crazy for me and I like trees too much to live there for any length of time). I really wanted to go to California, but I couldn't find anyone else to go with and found I was too cautious to sell all of my stuff, pack up the car and point it toward the West Coast. I at least managed to get out of my parents' house by moving into a series of apartments in East Hartford and Manchester with various siblings, friends and work colleagues.

I visited Ireland and England in the late 90s and rekindled my interest in possibly moving to either place, but the chances seemed very very slim. When the 'Noughties' rolled around--I found myself back in E.H. and back at the folks' house. Most of my friends had moved away or had got married and started families...even most of my siblings had left. I had that "down-and-out" feeling--the sensation of being stuck in a massive rut. I revived the California plan and was seriously thinking of putting it into action--when Pixie and I met (in virtuality).

Even then, I just thought "Oh, it'll be nice to have a friend in England, so I can go over and visit more often." Well, things worked out quite differently, I'm very happy to report and so I left to be with her 4 years ago. I thank her for choosing to remain in England--so I could get out of the U.S., though I would've stayed in Conn. if she had wanted to leave the UK. Of course, I would have wanted to leave Conn. eventually anyway--and hopefully she would agree to that.

So here I am - enjoying life in Britain. It was a bit of a learning curve and still is, in some ways, even for a self-confessed Anglophile like myself. That whole "separated by a common language" cliche actually does come into play at times. Perhaps I'll discuss that in another post...

Ashes to ashes, bland & clunky, looks like The Guv's just a flunkie...

2nd Day, First Month - Year 97 (Year Of The Rat)

WARNING: Spoiler alert--the review gives away a lot of the plot, if you haven't seen the episode.

Pixie and I caught the first episode of the 'sequel' series to the often great Life On Mars, called Ashes To Ashes (see what they did there, another Bowie song title--I wonder if they'll make a 90s version next and call it I'm Afraid Of Americans...).

The verdict? For me, just...meh. The story this time around revolves around Alex Drake (played by a very posh Keeley Hawes), a police psychologist who was involved with Sam Tyler (the main protagonist of "Life.."), as his shrink. She's memorised Tyler's case details and in the opening scene, is going over it with her far-too-precocious-to-believe daughter, Molly, while on the morning school run. The usual police "situation" happens and Alex is ordered to the scene. A gunman has a hostage and, of course, a stand-off has ensued. Drake is supposed to talk the man down--but as she approaches him, he remarks that he knew her parents. His name is Arthur Leyton and he becomes central to the plot. In another moment of belief suspension, Molly runs out of the crowd as Leyton takes her mother hostage. Leyton grabs the girl instead and Drake pursues them both. She finds her daughter unharmed and they call it a day. I guess Molly earns a "get-out-of-school-free" card for being accosted by a crazed gunman. She takes off with some guy, I didn't catch who that is--husband, maybe?

Alex gets into her car--and who should be there? Yep, Leyton. The ol' hiding-in-the-back-seat ploy (I often wonder why people in cop shows never lock their car doors). She drives to the usual 'secluded spot', he frog-marches her somewhere else...there's a scuffle, the gun fires...and she wakes up in 1981. That's what we're meant to think anyway--she's surrounded by people with daft haircuts and goofy clothes. She makes an escape, only to be held at gunpoint by another lunatic. Luckily, this time--Gene "The Guv" Hunt (Philip Glenister) appears, cowboy boots and all..with a couple of his old cronies from Manchester and they save the day. It seems he's transferred down to The Big Smoke to battle the rising drug tide...or something. They all head down to the station house and Alex realises who they are. She's then convinced that she's tapped into Tyler's fantasy world and tries to figure out how to break out of it. Through the guy they've arrested, she finds out that Leyton is involved (small fantasy world...) and surmises that the key to get herself out of '81 is to arrest him.

The rest of the episode involves The Guv and Drake and the rest of the crew tracking down the drug ring and Drake gunning for Leyton. Occasionally, there'll be weird moments where a guy dressed like Bowie-as-clown on the "Ashes To Ashes" single appears and chases her. The climactic sting operation/shoot-out sees The Guv calling himself "The A Team" (a not-so-sly reference to..well you know) and commandeering a speedboat and brandishing an Uzi. Over the top? Yep.

Overall, I don't think it worked as well as "Life..." It just seemed too self-referential--with Drake somehow knowing that she was she's in a world of her own creation following her being killed (or nearly killed). It lacked that Philip K. Dick-ian ambiguity that propelled Sam Tyler's search to find out what had actually happened to him and exactly why he seemed to be in 1973. The writers have obviously tried to up the eye-candy quotient this time around as well. No more dowdy PC Cartwright--Drake spends most of the episode wearing a silk red top, a red leather miniskirt and black stockings. The Guv is reduced to a near-cartoon--just firing off macho asides and waving a 44 Magnum around. The attempts to set up some kind of Spencer Tracy/Kate Hepburn friction between them seem forced. It's almost as if a 16-year-old was given the script-writing task--"Let's see, the bird will be dressed like a tart, that Guv geezer can say lots of dead cool stuff and some posh twat will be the baddie...and the long-haired bloke can also be the bad guy...oh yeah, can we put The Guv on a speedboat?"

I also thought the way they weaved the title song into the script seemed a bit ham-fisted. Leyton sings the "I'm happy, are you happy too" bit early on--and Drake sings it to herself later in the episode. The appearance of the clown also references the tune. I don't remember anyone humming the "Life On Mars" melody in either of it's two series. The only time the song appeared was in the final episode. It's almost like they're building the show around the song itself.

Ah well, I didn't like "Life on Mars" at first either - but I think "Ashes To Ashes" is going to have to pick up the pace in a big way to match it's predecessor.

The Other Side of The Mirror: Bob Dylan Live At The Newport Folk Festival 1963-1965

The Other Side of The Mirror DVD has been available for a few months now, so apologies for the lateness of this review. It is yet another artifact in the, seemingly, ever-increasing world of Dylan related archives: in recent months we have also had a mammoth three CD 'best of', a few more books to weigh the old shelves down and 'semi-legal' DVDs of TV performances. Even for the most die-hard of raving loony Boblings much of this stuff is entirely superfluous or, at least, not entirely necessary. The Other Side of The Mirror is, however, a different case altogether. Compiled by Murray Lerner from his seminal footage of Dylan performances at Newport, the DVD all too clearly exhibits Dylan's whirlwind development in two years from earnest 'folk-protest' Guthrie - worshipper to the coolest cat in the known universe, spouting surreal 'skippin' reels of rhyme' and shouldering an electric guitar. There's no narration: we are allowed to just watch Dylan grow through three festivals. I swear he seems to morph physically as much as artistically, during this blindingly brief spell, when he truly was the most important singer on the planet.

Dylan in 1963 is all working shirt and big boots. His hair is pretty short and Pete Seeger really seems to approve. We see him singing at a small 'workshop', with various very trad. musicians sat behind him looking like they just stepped down from the hills. Bob gives a rare live performance of 'North Country Blues' and then we are transported to the main stage for the evening show. This is where 'King' Bob is first seen accompanied by 'Queen' Joan Baez. There is something that always makes me feel like throwing up every time I see early footage of these two together. With the knowledge we now have of how things panned out, it seems obvious that Dylan never really wanted Joanie around and the way she just seems to appear at his side looks creepy in the extreme. It must be conceded that Dylan happily used Baez to get his career off the ground but you can always nearly see him thinking 'You again! Just go away, woman!' as she caterwauls along to 'Blowin' In The Wind' or 'It Ain't Me Babe' (didn't she get it?). Baez also has one of those voices that always has to be louder than everyone else's, even when she's singing harmony. It's like listening to an ego inflating. She was utterly horrendous. Poor Joan must be either one of the most forgiving people of all time or a total sucker when you consider how many times she reappeared in Dylan's career. I fear the latter is the case.

For me, the most fascinating footage is from 1964. He's still strumming an acoustic, so the folkies still love him but the material is probably the most radical of all on the DVD. Lyrically, 'Mr. Tambourine Man' and 'Chimes of Freedom' were songs like no one had ever heard before. Guthrie had been replaced by Rimbaud. Dylan was also dressed noticably sharper in a very cool jacket, jeans and cuban heel boots. Still, the 'trads' were so dull they didn't mind at all because he was still 'acoustic'. They clearly weren't listening. Poor Bob still can't quite get away from Joanie, though. She's up on stage as he sings 'It Ain't Me Babe' and you can hear her say she doesn't know any of his new songs and it shows! Seems she never got the hint until she followed Bob to Britain in '65 and it was clear there was no way he was ever going to let her sing with him anymore. Life can be cruel. Dylan certainly could be cruel but he knew his art deserved better treatment than campfire singalongs.

By '65 Dylan's mind-set was million miles from that of the likes of Baez, Seeger and Lomax. He was just about to step into the vortex that wouldn't stop until he fell off his bike in '66: Dylan The Iconoclast was in town to stick it to the lot of them. He did sing some acoustic songs in the summer afternoon sun but we get to see some fans already beginning to moan that he's sold out to 'the man' and who needs him now? If only they'd had the wit to shout 'Judas!'. These sort of whingers have dogged Bob's career ever since. Good job he doesn't care. There's a nice bit where the electric band he has lined up for the evening show rehearse and the poor bloke from Peter, Paul and Mary (I know he's definitely NOT Mary), who seemed to always be trying to keep things together when mayhem took over at all these shows, begs them to shut up so he can test the mics. Dylan remains imperially aloof. It's like 'Who cares, man?' The evening 'show' of three electric songs that follows is the stuff of well trodden legend. For all those who now claim they didn't boo, the booing is all too clear. I suppose we don't really know what Dylan thought at the time but he happily went on to be booed all over the world after this! The performances we get of 'Maggie's Farm' and 'Like A Rolling Stone' are far from great musically but they were epoch making in so many other ways. After 'LARS' Bob eventually returns to the stage and 'Peter' or 'Paul' assures the crowd that he's getting is acoustic guitar. They were then treated to brilliant versions of 'Tambourine Man' and, tellingly, 'It's All Over Now, Baby Blue'. If they had been listening properly they would have noticed that Dylan, after all the booing, still had the iron balls to come back on and tell 'em to 'stick it'. They probably thought they'd 'won'.

There it is. Amazing footage of the most important musical artist of the last century or so turning into the singular person he remains to be. Long may he reign. This really is essential for anyone with an interest in all things Bob.

Record Fayre Round-Up #693

27 Sh'vat - Year 5768

We had a small bit of spare cash left-over this month, so I was green-lighted to go the Record Fair at the Oxford Town Hall. It's been quite a while since I'd been--nearly a year, I think.

It's still being held in the smaller room on the first floor, as there aren't nearly as many sellers to fill the large room (where it used to be). In fact, there were even less tables than the last time I attended. I strongly suspect this has to do with "the intrawebs", as a lot of bootlegs can be had through bit-torrent sites like Dime-A-Dozen and Demonoid, including artwork. The amount of re-issues being released, especially by smaller labels devoted to exactly that purpose, which are easily ordered on-line, also contributes to the number of blokes willing to haul their wares around to small events. Sadly, it may spell the end of the monthly fairs held in Oxford.

On the other hand, it does mean that eventually, these guys selling boots will probably have to lower their prices. Remarkably, there were a few tables loaded up with them--going for £10-£15 a disc (£25 for double-disc sets!). The selection was the usual suspects--Beatles, Dylan, Floyd, Stones, etc. Some of the artwork seemed O.K., a lot were far worse than my home-made stuff. Sure enough, some people actually shelled out for them. I was tempted to tell one punter buying a few Beatles boots that that stuff was readily available on-line almost free, just a bit of internet time downloading a bit-torrent client and the cost of some blank discs--but I didn't want to be chased out of the hall by a mob of merchants. Plus, I thought, maybe he's not savvy to the bit-torrent revolution and he still thinks it's 1991, when the only way to get this stuff was through a bootlegger selling it.

Enough of that...I walked around and checked out ths discs and vinyl. Since Avid Records closed, I figured this may be the only way to score vintage prog and psych LPs. One of the 'regulars' always has a good selection, at not-so-good prices. He had a copy of Third Ear Band's second LP, the self-titled one (a.k.a. 'Elements'), priced at £35! It was in really good condition, but that didn't justify me spending over £30 for it. A couple of tables down, I found a copy of Tangerine Dream's 1971 album, Alpha Centauri, priced at £5. The sleeve's a bit battered, but the record itself plays just fine and it was a treat spinning it yesterday afternoon--a nice spacey soundtrack for a winter day. Sifting through the crates at the same table, I also found another T.D. album, Stratosfear, released on Virgin Records in 1976 (priced at £7) and one I've been looking to acquire for a long while now, Caravan's In The Land Of Grey And Pink--the Deram release with gatefold sleeve. The price tag on the Caravan was £10, but I tried to haggle the bloke down, because the sleeve is pretty beat-up (it turns out the record skips on the second side--but I didn't know that until later). He was reluctant, but eventually asked for £20 for all three, so I got a very slight deal.

After that, I checked out some CDs. I found the new Radiohead disc for £5, so I snapped it up. I bought Pixie a used copy of the double-disc Pulp compilation, Countdown 1992-1983, also for £5. It was priced at £6, but the guy let it and the Radiohead CD go for a tenner. I had another walk around--I passed the Rasta dude who's also there every month. I was tempted to buy a few dub discs from him, but he over-charges as well, as I learned the last time I bought from him. I stopped at the table of another regular who always has a full stock of psych and prog discs. Again, some of the stuff seems quite rare and possibly worth the £10 price tag, but a lot of it seems over-priced. I only had a bit of money left, so I wanted to make a decent choice. I ended up, after much inner debating, buying Atomic Rooster's debut album (first released in 1970), Atomic Ro-O-ster (don't ask me why it's titled that...). The one I bought is the '91 re-issue on Repertoire Records, which includes one bonus track. I only have one of their tracks as part of the Supernatural Fairy Tales box set, so I've been a bit curious to hear more. I'm told that their second album, Death Walks Behind You, "is" the best one--but I figured I'd start from the beginning. The debut is also the only A.R. album with Carl Palmer on drums, before he went off with those other two to start that other band. Vincent Crane, the group's leader and keyboardist, and Palmer were part of The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown, but defected to form Atomic Rooster in 1969. I haven't listened to it yet, but it'll be getting a spin this week.

There was another guy selling dance & hip-hop LPs and 12" singles--so I rifled through a few crates, looking for any of The Grid's albums but came up empty. I found a few Orb singles and even the ...Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld 2-LP set, but he wanted £20 for each--so that was definitely out. Lastly, I stopped at a table selling loads of used classical CDs. I searched for Stockhausen and Terry Riley discs, then realised that there weren't any modern classical CDs. I then remembered that I've been meaning to buy a copy of Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique. I found two different versions of it, but decided on the Decca Records disc with Zubin Mehta conducting. I found a Kronos Quartet disc, called White Man Sleeps, first released in 1987. It seems interesting and their quality control is usually pretty good. The seller with the classical discs had a small book rack at his table and just as I was about to leave, I spotted a hardcover copy of Nick Mason's Inside Out, his own recollections of being in Pink Floyd over the years. I had intended to buy it when it was first published in 2004--but as ever, never got round to it. I figured I'd have to try Amazon's used section and pay up the nose for it. This bloke was selling it for £12--but I asked to buy it for £10...we compromised at £11. Not bad, considering it was £30 when first out...and the copy I've got is in near-mint condition. I've already read through the first couple of chapters and the photos alone make it worth the money.

Well, I've got some reading and listening to do---be back soon.

Current reading matter and other matters...

I know I said I thought I might stop posting here but my good friends told me not to be so silly, so here I am again. In brief, I just want to mention some books I'm reading and couple of other things.

Not so long ago, I mentioned my religious faith in this very blog. Keeping on that theme, I'm currently engrossed in Evelyn Underhill's classic tome, Mysticism: A Study of the Nature and Development of Man's Spiritual Consciousness http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evelyn_Underhill . Written way back in 1911, this is an amazing study of mainly Christian mystical experience. Alongside this, I'm also looking into Mysticism: A Study and an Anthology by F.C. Happold http://www.escapefromwatchtower.com/mysticism.html, The Spirit of the Disciplines by Dallas Willard http://www.dwillard.org/ and I'm re-reading parts of Karen Armstrong's A History of God http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karen_Armstrong. That may all look a bit heavy but, somehow, it all fits together and it seems that everytime I come across something that sparks a light in me in one book one of the others has something relevant to say the next time I turn to it. This all seems to me to be just about the most vital subject for a person to take an interest in. Of course, merely reading about something is one thing, doing something about it is another. I must take up meditation once more and search for a way of 'right living' (as Buddhists would put it). I go to church (from time to time); I pray; in my feeble way I do my best to be 'good' but it never feels like it's quite enough. Don't get me wrong, I'm not chastising myself but I acknowledge that 'the search' goes on and I should try harder.

Something quite exciting happened today. I came back from my first solo walk (quite s little walk, really) since I became unwell and had to undergo months of treatment and I checked the blog to find that The Purple Gooroo had added some links that I hadn't noticed before. I clicked on the bottom one and this led me to an interesting site which had another load of links which I duly searched through to find a lot of people with similar interests to myself and many seemed to be on a similar quest. Most seemed to be far more mature in the spiritual life than I am and it was inspiring to read their thoughts and look at some of the things they have been reading and read some of their own poetry and prose. So, thanks to The Purple Gooroo. Back to the subject of walking, I hope to continue to build up my strength with regular walks and times of solitude, if the weather allows! I will be having a scan in a week or so to tell me how all the treatment has gone and we'll take it from there. I'm in God's hands and, whatever you believe in, please send postive vibes my way and I'll be sending them back to you too with great thanks.

Talk again soon.

Mid-Winter Happenings

14 MuHarram - 1429 A.H.

We haven't been up to much lately, just the usual. Working, chillin' out--that sort of thing. The weather's been dull and rainy, but we managed a couple of short walks around the village.

We were asked to attend a Confirmation service a couple of nights ago--so we duly attended. I was mainly surprised when the church didn't collapse after I walked in. Having (mostly) forgotten about all of the pomp surrounding Confirmation services, I was also surprised at how long it all took. Apparently, it was even longer last year, as there were more Confirmandi. Ah well, we survived.

I've been spending a bit of time over at GoodReads the past few days (in fact, I've been spending virtually all of my on-line time there). I received an e-mail invite from Mark D., over at Cheek. The site seemed interesting to me, so I signed up. It's pretty much a place to list the books you've read (and are reading and want to read) and give and get recommendations from fellow bookworms. It's been an interesting exercise trying to remember exactly what I've read over the years, and when. I've been amazed that some of the titles I read over twenty years ago actually appear in the GoodReads database. I'm still adding titles to my bookshelf--I'm up to around 170 at the moment. When I've got as much as I can remember, I'll explore the other features of the site. Maybe I'll see you there.

The next couple of months looks good for tunes, with the newest Mars Volta album, The Bedlam In Goliath, out on Monday. More Latin-tinged prog-punk from the boys..and that's fine with me. I think I'll give their last one, Amputechture, another spin or two. Mike Oldfield's brand new one, Music Of The Spheres, is due out in March. He's collaborated with Karl Jenkins on the record. Jenkins is best known for his classical-lite Adeimus series--but once upon a time he was a second keyboardist in Soft Machine (alongside Mike Ratledge), with his apex being the remarkable Six album, released in 1973. From what I can gather, "Music Of The Spheres" seems something of a 'return to form'. I haven't been overly impressed with the last couple of Oldfield albums, so I'm hoping "Music..." does recover some of the magic. The new Elbow album is also slated to hit the racks in March. The boys are touring then as well and we may try to catch them at the Academy. It'll be tough for them to top Leaders Of The Free World, but I suspect they gave it really good effort. Time to warm up the disc player.

Happy Bob-Mas & Happy Birthday Albert Hofmann

Sweetmorn, Chaos 11, Year of Our Lady of Discord 3174

Has it really been a year since Pope Bob left this planet for unknown adventures? I still miss him and I'm still hoping that his remaining family can put together an anthology of his unpublished works. Maybe even the fabled Tale Of The Tribe? Some of the MLA'ers have been talking about completing T.O.T.T. themselves--in which case, I'll definitely be up for helping out with that. In the meantime - there's the two MLA-related Wikipedia pages. The collaborative fiction one and the newest, a page dedicated to the Illuminatus! trilogy. Cool stuff.

As for Pope Bob himself, well, I don't necessarily "believe" in an after-life..but if such a thing 'is' a possibility--I imagine he's still tripping the light fantastic with Arlen, downing pints of astral Guinness with Jimmy Joyce, Timmy Leary and Flann O'Brien, having ol' Ludwig Van teach him piano sonatas and blowing minds everywhere. Hail Pope Bob!

It's also the 102nd birthday of Dr. Albert Hofmann, who, in case you're not aware, was the first to synthesize a little compound called LSD. The man seems far more rational and sober-minded than a lot of "War On Some Drugs" types would have you believe. I've got a recording of Hofmann speaking at a psychedelics symposium held in San Francisco in September 1978. He describes his experiences with LSD with a clarity and focus that only a rational, scientific mind can conjure. You can read that 1978 lecture here.

It would be pure speculation to consider what 2008 would be like, had Aldous Huxley, Humphrey Osmond and Hofmann's view that psychedelics should be studied and used for therapeutic purposes won out over the mass-experimentation model of Leary, Ken Kesey and Allen Ginsberg. Some later counter-culturalists managed to bridge the gap a bit between the scientists and mystics (Terence McKenna comes to mind), but the cat's been out of the bag far too long now and the TSOG won't budge on the matter of keeping psychedelics illegal and "immoral"--so still no scientific testing and the only stuff available is dodgy 'street acid', which may contain a number of things and pure lysergic acid probably won't be one of them. Maybe someday that will change--but for the moment, I'm glad 'Uncle Albert' is still with us.

Check out Bogus Magus' post over at Only Maybe for another R.A.W./Albert Hofmann tribute.

No Man's Code: Forty Years of 'John Wesley Harding'

ONE SHOULD NEVER BE WHERE ONE DOES NOT BELONG...

Some said he'd died in a motorcylcle accident, others said he was vegetating in a coma. No one outside of Bob Dylan's immediate circle really knew what had happened on that fateful day in 1966 when, following the utter emotional and artistic strain of his musically shattering world tour that had seen 'walk outs' by fans of the 'folk hero Dylan', boos from many of the confused and the infamous 'Judas!' shout in Manchester, England, Bob's bike skidded off the road somewhere out in the hills around Woodstock and he ended up in a neck brace. Perhaps he just didn't fancy another jaunt around the States that Albert Grossman was already lining up? Maybe he couldn't fulfill his contract for the long promised book he was writing? Maybe he was an exhausted wreck who fell off his motorcycle and just couldn't do anymore? Probably all three propositions are true to some degree. Whatever did happen, Dylan now had the chance to get off the treadmill, hide in the hills, re-evaluate his life and art and attempt to finally shake off the 'spokeman for a generation' tag that had made him sick from the very beginning of his career.

In 1964 Dylan had already signed off from the battles others had lined up for him on the final song of his third album, The Times They Are A-Changin'. On 'Restless Farewell' Dylan sang 'But it's not to stand naked under unknowing eyes, it's for myself and my friends my stories are sung'. It seems nobody wanted to hear that. He tried again in the same year at the Newport Folk Festival where in 1963 he'd been crowned the 'King of Protest' along with his abominable 'Queen', Joan Baez. In '64 Dylan turned up, still armed with an acoustic guitar but his threads were sharper and his new songs some light years away from 'protest'. He introduced the world to 'Chimes of Freedom' and 'Mr. Tambourine Man' but the folk purists, in their supreme dullness, didn't mind because his guitar wasn't plugged in to any of that 'e-lec-tri-city' so he must still belong to them. He must have thought, 'Oh, Lord, what can I do to make them understand ?' Finally, as we all know, in 1965 Bob went the whole hog and plugged in to become the rock 'n' roller he always wanted to be. Oh, the folkies 'got it' now. He had an electric guitar! He had a band! Get the traitor off! Trouble was, others still saw him as the one with all the answers to society's problems; infact, for many, he was even more so the 'saviour' they had waited for as he became the darling of the growing 'Counter Culture'. After all, his lyrics were weird, 'maan'. He spoke in riddles at press conferences: he must have a message for us!

We all know this story, so I should move on. It's easy for me to mock the short-sightedness of those Dylan fans who, back in early 1968, eagerly slid the vinyl out of the sleeve of John Wesley Harding and, placing it on their turntables, thought 'What the f*** is this?' There was war going on, there were riots on American streets, there were hippies threatening to turn the world upside down with their sex and drugs and mock and roll. What had Dylan finally given them in answer to their prayers? An album that sounded like it was recorded by an tragically religious hillbilly who had stepped out of the 1860s rather than the whirlpool of the 1960s. As I said, it's easy for me to mock. I didn't start getting into Zimmy until the mid-70s; by then he'd slowly made his way back into the arms of the mass of his fans (although he had a shock coming for them' just around the bend'). The first album I'd bought was Desire which was something of a commercial peak. After this I'd grabbed Greatest Hits and then let Dylan drift whilst punk took over. By '79 I was ready for a fulltime assault on Mount Zimmerman and probably bought Freewheelin' next. I had no real idea of where to go after this, so I grasped at anything the second-hand record and book shops happened to have at a good price. Thus, oddly, my next purchases were JWH, Nashville Skyline and Self Portrait all on the same day. In retrospect, that's quite bizarre but I think I was lucky because, in my naive ignorance but spirited adventure, I had no massive expectations of what a Dylan should sound like. I just know what I liked and even through all the crackles in this ancient vinyl, I liked everything I heard but I particularly liked John Wesley Harding. If I'd been ten years older I probably would have booed.

The cover of the album is a statement in itself. It was GREY. There was Dylan and three odd characters with him who'd NEVER make the cover of a Beatles album. We didn't know them. The Fab-Four really weren't hidden in the tree bark behind Dylan's shoulder. Why would he indulge in such crap? The previous year had seen the release of Sgt. Pepper's with its Peter Blake cover that shouted 'colour!', 'drugs!', 'self-regard!' and 'look at us!'. Zappa famously lampooned it all with We're Only In It For The Money but The Stones were so jealous that they had to have a 'Counter Culture' album and cover all of their own and made themselves ridiculous with Satanic Majesties. Dylan hated the so called 'alternative' world view of hippies and psychedelia. Musically, he'd always been grounded in Hank Williams, Jimmie Rodgers and the R&B of Little Richard, to say nothing of the massive influence of Woody Guthrie on his early work. Guthrie died just before Bob took off for Nashville to record JWH and he instantly offered to take part in any tribute concert there might be for Woody. Never mind 1964s 'Last Thoughts On Woody Guthrie'. For the past year, whilst recovering from the accident, Bob had been holed up in Woodstock with The Hawks, who were about to become The Band, recording songs for fun. Listening now to the well over 100 tracks they put down over this period you can hear the utter rejection of what was going on 'out there'; the refusal to 'speak' for anyone but themselves and the sheer joy of making music that matters. Many of the songs recorded through 1967 were folk songs or old pop songs from a previous era. The Dylan originals that came out of the 'basement' were as powerful and strange as anything he'd ever written but already they were pointing in a new direction. Listen to 'Tears of Rage', 'Wheels On Fire' or 'Lo and Behold!' and you'll be struck by the near religious intensity of these strange narratives that seem to look back and forward all at the same moment.

Oddly, Bob chose to not use The Band for John Wesley Harding. Their sound probably wasn't what he quite had in mind. JWH is rock minimalism. The small band that he used in Nashville featured Charlie McCoy on Bass, Kenny Buttrey on drums and Pete Drake on steel guitar. Dylan himself strums a guitar that sounds like the capo is permanently strapped high up the neck, creating a light, singing tone. All of the instrumentation is unobtrusive. What counts are Dylan's voice, the melody and the words. On the three albums that he recorded in fifteen short months between 1965 and 1966 Dylans vocals became increasingly a reflection of his state of mind until you reach the ultimate amphetamine fog of his vocals on Blonde On Blonde. By late '67 Bob had discovered a lighter but still aching tone that perfectly complimented songs like 'I Am a Lonesome Hobo' and 'Dear Landlord'. These were songs searching for but failing to find redemption; songs of dreams that seem to blame the narrator for the death of saintliness and, in 'All Along The Watchtower', a warning of the coming apocolypse in three verses of elliptical poetry that are possibly the most perfect of Dylan's career. He'd clearly been studying The Bible and there are plenty of scholars who'll point you to the 'Old Testament' and 'Book of Revelation' references but you don't need all that to feel the power of this song. I've always believed that whilst Hendrix's version has its own beauty it ultimately misses the point. As with most of the songs on John Wesley Harding, all that was necessary were three verses, no solos and the truth. Maybe it's the first punk album?

Enough! I've listened to this album hundreds of times, have already listened to it four or five times today and will never tire of it. It allowed Dylan to begin to shake of off the shackles of the previous years.It made possible the great country rock of Gram Parsons and The Byrds (it also allowed The Eagles to inflict their nonsense on us!); it told the hippies that Dylan could never belong to them and he would only ever be his own man whatever anyone thought of it. It may have even been the first 'Alt. Country' record. Over the years, Dylan has paid the price of his artistic integrity but has ultimately won the day and even if JWH had been the last we'd ever heard of him it would still rank as high as any of his other 60s albums in importance and downright musical greatness.

NOTHING IS REVEALED

The Cover Of The Quarterly

Happy New Year, All! I contributed to the latest Maybe Quarterly (a sort-of web-zine published by the crew at the MLA on the solstices and equinoxes) by flexing the Photoshop skillz and creating the cover. I meant to have it ready for the autumn equinox issue and all sorts of stuff happened to effectively sabotage it. Anyway, better late than never. Looks pretty good...to me, that is. See if you can spot the typo--and be sure to read the contents of the issue. Loadsa good stuff there--but especially Bogus Magus and Bobby's collab piece, called Magical Means. You can check out the issue here. 'Till next time...

The Curtain Closes On Another One

Year Of The Pig - Month 11, Day 8

The clock's running down on another Gregorian calendar year. Mine was O.K., how about yourself? The news seemed to be dominated by the usual coverage of various wars, natural disasters and of course, climate change. Some important stories were overlooked, because apparently people need to know if Britney Spears or Lindsey Lohan will be wearing underwear or if Paris Hilton will be let out of jail within three days of her next arrest. Here's a list of some of those stories (I tried to find a list that wasn't very America-centric--and that one appeared to be adequate). In the interest of fairness, or maybe just a laugh (I haven't decided) here's a list of stories that American conservatives deem important and overlooked. Read 'em and chuckle...or weep. On to other matters...

MUSIC

I admit to not being the heppest cat on the block. I don't consult NME or Pitchfork or even Last-fm to find out what the uber-cool kids are listening to these days. I didn't buy that many new albums this year--I mostly strayed around checking out the backwaters of progressive music--most of the artists being gleaned from Bradley Smith's BillBoard Guide To Progressive Music, first published in 1998. There seem to be some glaring flaws in the book, but still, it's inspired me to check out music that I would've overlooked otherwise--even if "progressive" as a genre may or may not exist (it does for me--but that's wholly subjective). Books on prog music and even prog-rock seem pretty thin on the ground these days, so I'll take what I can get. Here's a few sounds that I enjoyed in C.E. 2007 (in no particular order):

• Richard Hawley - Lady's Bridge: In Hawley's soundscape it seems to be perpetually 1961. Psychedelia hasn't happened, punk hasn't happened, no prog-rock, new-wave, no-wave, heavy metal, hair-metal or electronica. The feckin' Beatles haven't even happened yet. He lives by the code of Buddy Holly and even wears a pair of horn-rimmed Holly-esque specs, in case you really miss the point. His Sheffield-tinged rockabilly is just fine by me, though. The guitars have just the right amount of reverb and his baritone voice compliments it all. This time around, he does sneak in a tiny bit of drone-rock with the gorgeous The Sea Calls, a more beautiful tune I've not heard this year--excepting the "Lady's Bridge" closer, The Sun Refused To Shine.

• Throbbing Gristle - Part Two: The Endless Not: 25 years after they first split and formed many side projects (Coil, Chris & Cosey, Psychic TV, etc.)--the original T.G. reformed for a few gigs. Their legend and influence possibly eclipsed their actual recorded output, but that didn't stop them from reconvening in a studio (or three) and coaxing some more uneasy tunes out of their synths and guitars. The result, while not exactly on the experimental bleedin' edge--what their 70s records pointed toward, shows that these 50-somethings are still far more out-there than most of their contemporaries (hello Buzzcocks, Sex Pistols and various re-formed prog and metal bands). Rabbit Snare even ventures into jazz territory, albeit with a sly, winking context. One of the actual worthwhile reunions this year.


• Arcade Fire - The Neon Bible: It was always going to be tough following up Funeral. They dodged the follow-up expectations somewhat by releasing an EP between the two full-lengths. I think they've fared rather well with "Neon Bible". It does seem a bit more bombastic in places--but there's no denying solid tunes like (Antichrist Television Blues), Keep The Car Running and the subdued title track. It'll be interesting to hear what they do next, now that they've cleared the sophomore slump.


• Porcupine Tree - Fear Of A Blank Planet: Steven Wilson & Co. returned this year with their follow-up to the somewhat lacklustre 2005 album, Deadwing. The results this time around are a lot more satisfying. Sort-of a cross between Rush's (Alex Lifeson has a guest spot on one of the tracks) Tom Sawyer and an Opeth record--the lyrics take on the topic of media over-saturation of today's yoof. Wilson doesn't judge, but only presents the situation as he sees it, though it must be said, his view seems a bit bleak. "Fear Of.." also contains some of the most bludgeoning riffs the Tree have played to this date. I saw them live on the latest tour and the amps were cranked up to 11. A thought-provoking, well-crafted album. An EP of "Fear Of.." left-overs called Nil Recurring was released last month.



• Super Furry Animals - Hey Venus!: Wales' finest were also back this year and also following up a 2005 release. While P. Tree improved their game, S.F.A. seemed to be running in place with "Hey Venus!". It's more of their trademark quirk-pop that they've perfected on their last two or three records. While they will always manage to create 3-4 minute wonders, this one, as a whole, just didn't have the jaw-dropping effect that Rings Around The World did when I first heard that. For the slight disappointment, though, "Hey Venus!" still seems to be better than 95% of the crap clogging up the charts, both indie and mainstream.

Best Reissues:

• The Genesis SACD/DVD series: Atlantic, or Sony--or whomever owns the rights to Genesis's back catalogue, finally got round to re-releases in a really good format, with an extra DVD of audio and video treats. I've got the Wind & Wuthering and A Trick Of The Tail editions (I couldn't see spending the money on Duke or Abacab) and they sound pretty frickin' amazing, even on the shit stereo I've got at the moment. Inexplicably, the reissues have covered the years 1976-1982 so far, instead of starting with Trespass or Nursery Cryme from 1970/'71. The next set, 1971-1974, is due out soon. I keep checking Amazon, but nothing has appeared so far--ah well, something to look forward to.


• The Steve Hillage re-masters: I think Virgin reissued Hillage's catalogue on disc back in the mid-90s on it's budget Caroline imprint. They sounded O.K., but the new set sound much better--plus, I'm a sucker for 'restored artwork' and bonus tracks. I particularly recommend Fish Rising, L and Rainbow Dome Musick.


• Pink Floyd - The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn (40th Anniversary edition): EMI has paid a fitting tribute to the late Syd Barrett by releasing a 3-disc version of his near-singular psychedelic triumph. Sure, the other Floyds play a crucial role--but this is Syd's baby all the way. The first disc is the long-deleted mono mix, the second is another stereo remaster (which does seem to sound better than the 1994 re-issue) and the third disc contains all of the 1967 singles, plus a couple of Interstellar Overdrive out-takes. The discs are housed in an oblong case that appears as a cloth book and there's a colour reproduction of one of Syd's art-school project books in an interior pocket. Storm Thorgerson (one of the founders of the Hipgnosis album cover-art collective) returns once again to design the package and thankfully, they've kept Vic Singh's iconic photo on the front. I know there's a lot of quibbles (even by myself) about what they could have included on the bonus disc--but overall, I think this version of "Piper" is the tops!

Musical Monstrosities--A few things I wasn't so impressed with this past year:

Irrelevant band reunions: I don't know about you, but I wasn't exactly breathlessly waiting for The Police to get back together, or for David Lee Roth and Eddie Van Halen to bury their years-sharpened hatchets. Genesis also trod the boards once again. I was actually a bit excited about that one--'till I found out that neither Steve Hackett nor Peter Gabriel would be involved. Then it just seemed like more Phil Collins money-grubbing (but while it's easy to target ol' Phil--Tony Banks and Mike Rutherford went along with the idea, so they could be money-grubbing just as much). I definitely wasn't going to pay to sit in an audience full of Patrick Batemans (not the serial-killing bit, just their love of 80s/90s Genesis), listening to Invisible Touch or I Can't Dance. I saw them in 1992, only because I was hoping (really really hoping) to at least hear The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway or maybe Robbery Assault & Battery. Instead, the covered their progressive period in a 20-minute medley..I bet they didn't even bother this time around. Foxtrot? What's that?

The worst one of the year, though, it seems to me--was The New Cars. That's right, The New Cars....WTF??! With Todd Rundgren in the line-up...an even bigger WTF????? Seriously, was there someone out there (besides a cousin of mine, whom I bet was dead excited about this and the 80s Genesis reunion) who was clamouring for a Cars reunion? Was there someone saying to themselves, "If only I could hear Drive or You Might Think in a live setting again..I could die happy."? Also, how bad is Rundgren's cred these days, if he's involved in this? Ric Ocasek seems to have had the sense to avoid it like the plague--good on him.

The Rise Of Amy Winehouse: I remember when her first album came out a couple of years ago--she didn't make much of a splash. Her backing band played sub-par jazz and her vocals seemed really marble-mouthed. She goes away, has a Motown make-over and suddenly, she's everyone's fave "new" singer. I know, re-inventing yourself to meet with mainstream success isn't necessarily a news-flash--Madonna's been doing it for 25 years now. Yeah, O.K., Rehab is a catchy tune and that Zutons cover does sound a bit better than the original. Only, her time in the limelight now seems to be taken up by various tabloid fodder like spousal punch-ups, drugs troubles and emotional turmoil. I'd be a lot more empathetic if it were someone of the calibre of Billie Holiday, but Winehouse seems to think her own diva status has been cemented already. Erm...not quite, Amy. I certainly wouldn't want to see her die young, but that doesn't mean I want to hear about her problems every fucking day, either. Ah well, at least it meant that Pete Doherty and Lily Allen were out of the headlines a lot--so thanks for that, Amy.

The continued presence of 'music'-based contest shows: It was pretty bad with X-Factor and Pop Idol and American Idol clogging up TV time that could've been better spent showing documentaries of actual notable musicians, but then those programming geniuses decided to have contests for roles in crappy Andrew Lloyd Webber-produced musicals. They had one to find the Maria role in his ghastly revival of The Sound Of Music and another for Joseph And His Technicolour Chuck Wagon...or whatever. The worst bit was showing close-ups of Webber's dessicated mug every week and then jump-cutting to Graham Norton's clown act...and those were just the adverts. Urgh!

FILMS

I didn't see any films in the cinema this past year, apart from Wes Anderson's The Darjeeling Limited (see my mini-review in the previous post). There didn't seem to be that much that warranted heading into Oxford and blowing £10 on. I was vaguely interested in Frank Miller's 300, but I never got round to seeing it. I like the look of the film, the bleached-out colours and darkened skies--but did the Battle Of Thermopylae need a CGI update? Maybe not--and Miller's somewhat questionable attitudes about the Middle East given in an NPR interview discouraged me a bit. I may add it to the rental list sometime. I also heard good things about Knocked Up, but again, didn't catch it in the cinema--another one for the rental list. The critics seemed to jizzing themselves over Atonement--but I couldn't be bothered. The Illusionist is already on the rental list, so I'll be seeing that in the near future and I'd like to check out the film about notorious hoaxster Clifford Irving, neatly titled The Hoax--it's rumoured to be one of the best things Richard Gere has done in years, though that's not saying too much, I suppose, considering some of the dreck he's made lately. I rented Pan's Labyrinth and quite enjoyed it and I also finally watched F For Fake, Orson Welles' last great film. You can see my review in the archives of the Only Maybe blog. What didn't I like? Lame sequels, brain-dead comedy, cheesy romance flicks...about 98% of the films released this year by the major studios, I think.

BOOKS

I read quite a bit this past Gregorian calendar year and there's a few things I really enjoyed. I was thoroughly surprised by David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas, which was nominated for a Booker Prize a few years ago. I was expecting some watered-down tosh that would appeal to most of the John and Jane Q Publics out there. It turned out to be an intriguing book with a kind of accordian-type storyline. I won't go into detail in case you are planning on reading it, but I found it very entertaining. I also read Mitchell's follow-up to "Cloud Atlas", Black Swan Green, which, while not as clever, still held my attention while making me remember back to when I was on the cusp of 13. The story is set in Britain, but the themes of being on the outer edge of the 'cool kids' group, the mysteries of girls and falling into lockstep with the family political leanings seem to be universal. I also read a few Philip K Dick books--Confessions Of A Crap Artist, Martian Time-Slip and Dr. Bloodmoney. "Martian.." and "Dr. Bloodmoney" are from PKD's mid-60s period--he's got his own voice, but he still seems to be defining it. The elements are there...the elasticity of "reality", the multi-character intertwinings..but they don't gell as well as in say, Ubik or A Scanner Darkly. "Confessions..." is a bit of a rarity in PKD's bibliography--a sort-of 'realist' novel. It takes place in the very early 60s in California. The story involves a man who suffers from a kind of autism and his self-involved sister, who is married to an overly pragmatic businessman. The plot pivots through a number of episodes which strain the various relationships, some very tragic. I really enjoyed "Confessions...", mainly because I was expecting it be "be" one thing and it turned out almost completely contrary to my notions. I finally read James Joyce's A Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Man and a book of Mark Twain short stories that I've been meaning to get to for a long time. Mike Oldfield's autobiography, Changeling, was not exactly a light-hearted read (due to Oldfield's rememberances of fighting with anxiety for most of his life)--but it does give a glimpse into his very private world. Unfortunately, if you're looking for a lot of details on his recording techniques--you'll come off a bit disappointed, as he really only talks about recording the original Tubular Bells with any verve. Donovan's biography, The Hurdy-Gurdy Man, is also a decent read, if you can forgive "The Don" his little conceits (according to him, he invented 'Celtic-rock', 'world music', 'New Age', was responsible for bringing Led Zeppelin together and a host of other huge events in music). It's a nice portrait of someone caught up in the near-epicentre of the craziness of 'the 60s', though, and for that seems worthy. There's a bunch of other titles--but that would take a post in itself. Maybe next year, I'll devote a whole one just to books.

THINGS I ENJOYED IN 2007 C.E.

The third series of The Mighty Boosh, the 1969 Fairport Convention line-up reunion at Cropredy, our holiday in Shropshire, joining the Maybe Logic Academy and 'meeting' all the groovy folk there, the Angel Tech course at the MLA (and reading the 'Angel Tech' book), Facebook, all the cool music I d/l'ed from Soulseek, those two weeks of nice weather in the summer, the birthday meal at the Pink Giraffe, the e-mails and cards from my fam and friends.

THINGS I DIDN'T ENJOY IN 2007

My recurring anxiety spells, the nightly coverage of the Iraq/Afghanistan debacle, the TSOG on the rampage once again, the summer rains, lame 'celebrity news stories', people still using the phrases "You go, girl!" and "Pimp my (insert personal possession here)", Singing Bear being very very poorly for most of the year.

R.I.P.--SO LONG AND THANKS FOR ALL THE...

Robert Anton Wilson

Ingmar Bergman

Norman Mailer

Joe Zawinul

Robert Altman

Karlheinz Stockhausen

Tony Wilson

...and any others I may have forgot. Well, that's your lot - all the best for 2008 - see you soon!

Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time...

12.19.14.15.17 (Mayan Long Count)

Another Gregorian calendar year is fading fast...it's almost time for the winter solstice. I haven't been doing much the past few weeks--mainly just digging through the Soulseek treasure trove and capturing the binary coded music onto shiny plastic & foil discs, while also reading The Dalkey Archive by Flann O'Brien. Oh yeah, we've also been heading into town and facing the throngs to do a bit of dreaded X-Mas shopping.

While in town last weekend, we caught a showing of the new Wes Anderson flick, The Darjeeling Limited. I suspect that mosbunall of the reviews have the tone of this one from MSNBC, though I haven't read any--not even The Oxford Times review. I also suspect the Anderson-haters have had their knives sharpened ever since The Life Aquatic was released a couple of years ago. I'll agree that Wes seems to have lost a bit of his magical charm that made Rushmore and Bottle Rocket such treats--but I'll take his weakest efforts over most of the Hollywood action/romance crap any day.

I dunno--I kinda liked it..and yeah, the cinematography does seem to out-shine the characters and plot--but it's nice to see Anderson and Jason Schwartzmann working together again. Owen Wilson does his usual schtick, which is O.K. by me. Adrien Brody appears as the odd one out, but he holds down his end alright. Angelica Huston, another Anderson regular, shows up and even Bill Murray has a bit part. The story concerns three brothers on a train journey across India. Wilson's character, who's recovering from a horrific motorcycle accident (which may have been planned), has invited his two brothers along on a 'spiritual journey'. They are all naturally suspicious of each other and haven't seen each other since their father's funeral the previous year. Each has his own obsession or character trait to wrangle with as well. They bicker endlessly and gulp down cheap Indian medication. Schwartzmann's character takes up with one of the waitresses on the train (Amara Karan)--on the rebound from his ex-girlfriend (played by Natalie Portman--"Part 1", a short film shown before the main feature, was about their awkward reunion in a Paris hotel). They visit temples and bazaars, but the spiritual journey isn't doing them much good.

The film suddenly pivots when the brothers attempt to rescue three Indian boys who get swept into a powerful river current. One of the boys is killed and the Americans accompany the surviving boys to their village and subsequently to the funeral, which brings up memories of the day of their father's ceremony. After that, Wilson's character reveals the true reason for summoning them to India--to reunite with their estranged mother (Huston) who's living in a Christian monestary near to the Himalayas. She reluctantly meets them, but instead of the family bonding that Wilson's character had expected--she flees from them in the night. They make their way back to the airport, changed by the experience. As they are about to board the plane--they run back to the train, dropping their custom matching luggage on the way (I know, a bit heavy-handed with the symbolism there). Anderson also chucks in his usual impeccable soundtrack, though I will admit to getting a bit tired of Peter Sarstedt's Where Do You Go, My Lovely?, the third time it appeared. The Satyajit Ray soundtrack music (possibly played by Ravi Shankar) was a brilliant choice and definitely lends some authenticity to the film. If you're convinced Anderson is far too precious and fey to waste your money on, you'll find evidence to support your argument in "The Darjeeling Limited"--but for anyone else--it's probably at least worth a rental.

It's been a banner couple of weeks for tolerance in the patriarchal religions. First, news broke in the UK that the Catholic League in the U.S. are protesting the release of Philip Pullman's The Golden Compass film, saying it "promotes atheism"--or rather, it's a 'stealth campaign' for Pullman's books, which they claim promote atheism. I could be wrong--but it occurs to me that the early X-tians led a 'stealth campaign' in Rome to promote their religion. I guess it's different when the Catholic Church is the big boy on the block. Not to mention that the C.L. seem to be targeting children's books and films now--it's not enough to make a scapegoat of Marilyn Manson or Monty Python or Martin Scorsese. Pullman has defended himself quite ably, calling the C.L.'s leaders 'nitwits' and saying that he was dismayed that they are 'loose in the world'. I hear you, Phil, but unfortunately, we're still on the Planet Of The Apes.

If that weren't enough evidence for you--a British teacher working in Sudan was ordered to serve 15 days in prison for naming a teddy bear 'Muhammed'. I understand that those calling for a punishment were possibly a minority of Sudan's Muslim community--but they seemed to be a very vocal minority to me. Eventually, she was pardoned by Sudan's president and was allowed to return to the UK. Still, it goes to show me that I'd rather be living in an X-tian democracy than in an Islamic theocracy. Gillian Gibbons has stated that she enjoyed working in Sudan and that mostly everyone she met was friendly and supportive..it's too bad that some religious fanatics have to overshadow that goodwill.

I finally succumbed and bought an iPod. Not one of the new slim-line jobs that cost £90-£100, mind. A bloke at work won a new Nano in a raffle. They way the results were posted, it appeared that he had won two--but it turned out that one of the "iPods" was an mp3-player, not the Apple brand. Before I knew that the second one wasn't an iPod, I had put in an offer to buy one of them, if he was going to sell it fairly cheap. He told me about the mix-up, but then offered to sell me his old Mini for £40. It sounded like a fair offer to me, so I handed over the cash. He threw in a brand new pair of headphones and a charger/USB cable as well. I've downloaded the iTunes link-up and I'm ready to rock--only I haven't actually loaded anything onto it yet. Pixie will have a "tunes-to-run-to" folder and an indie-rock one. I'll have a progressive folder (natch!) and a groovy psychedelic tunes folder. An ambient setlist for going to sleep by would be a good thing as well, as currently I've been using Pixie's portable disc player which makes quite a bit of noise in a silent room. I'm sure I'll think of more selections as I go along.

Ah well, off to figure that contraption out. I'll try and post at least once before the holly-days--possibly one of those 'year-end wrap-up' doodles. See you then.

The Boosh Is Loose!

21 Azar - Year 1386

That's right - the boys return to action starting this Thursday on BBC3. Pixie and I watched the first ep. and it seems pretty much up to their usual standard. The Hitcher's in it, which is always a plus. You can check it out here. It's good to have them back. Get ready to rock, Boosh-heads!

Porcupine Tree/Anathema - Carling Academy Oxford - November 8, 2007 (Greg.)...and a little bit of Stewart Lee - Jacqueline Du Pre Music Building

Setting Orange, The Aftermath 22, Year of Our Lady of Discord 3173

Porcupine Tree made their first appearance in Oxford since the early 90s a few nights ago and I made sure I was in attendance. Pixie was originally going to go with me--but then comedian Stewart Lee announced that he was playing at the Jacqueline Du Pre Music Building on the campus of St. Hilda's College the very same night. I was torn between the two, as I watched Lee's brilliant Stand-Up Comedian DVD earlier this year and really wanted to see him perfrom live. I ended up choosing P. Tree because I had never seen them in concert (though I had a couple of opportunities to see them in Connecticut).

We had arranged to meet a co-worker, who was also attending the Lee show, at the Cape Of Good Hope pub, at 7 p.m. for pre-show drinks. Pixie and I grabbed dinner at the Noodle Bar before heading to the pub. I ordered the roast duck/ho fun noodle combo, which was quiet tasty and Pixie had a mushroom/rice/cashew & pea combo that she enjoyed. We arrived at the pub for a pint--sat around and talked for a while. My mate Will, an ex-Borders comrade, showed up as well. He was heading to the Lee show--which wasn't due to start until around 9 p.m. I checked the time and it was around 7:45 p.m., so I said my good-byes and started toward the Carling Academy. By the time I was inside the downstairs room, the support band, Anathema, had finished their set. I did want to check them out, as I read somewhere that some of their tunes hit on the progressive side of metal. Ah well, another time, perhaps.

Finally, after numerous techs sound-checking the instruments--the lights dimmed and films started up on the rear stage screen, flashing with images similar to the ones in the Fear Of A Blank Planet (P. Tree's newest album, released this year) CD booklet. In fact, they started off with a blistering version of the album's title track, mainman Steven Wilson bouncing around the front of the stage, looking like a demented Geddy Lee with his glasses and T-shirt. They followed that with a tune off of their new EP, Nil Recurring, called What Happens Now? The fast pace was then slowed down a bit with a nice Lazarus, from the Deadwing album--after which it was back to rockin' with more tunes off of the EP and "Fear Of...". The highlights were a complete Anesthetize, the whole 17-minute version (with a hilarious intro recounting by S.W., about an American DJ mispronouncing the title as "Annie's Thighs") and Cheating The Polygraph, with Wilson hitting a mean solo section. A surprise Dark Matter, from the Signify album, was a treat as well.

The rest of the band were on good form, especially drummer Gavin Harrison's double-bass drum footwork and extra guitarist John Wesley's power-chording and backup vocals. Colin Edwin ("the hippie of the group"), the bass player, got a shout-out from the crowd and S.W. had another humourous moment asking the whole crowd if they loved Colin and then he said that the band themselves didn't love him. The main set wound up with Way Out Of Here and Sleep Together, backed by a video of a strange metallic creature tapping away at a keyboard-like object--it looked like something Tool might use. They returned for an encore set consisting of a lovely Waiting, followed by an old fave, Even Less (which I was hoping for) and finally Halo. I had a good time, despite the over-crowded venue. I made my way to the merch table, through the leaving throngs, and picked up a copy of the new EP (I had bought a T-shirt on my way in to the show) and then headed out.

I texted Pixie and it appeared that the Stewart Lee gig hadn't finsihed yet. I walked down the Cowley Road, followed a sign and managed to find the Jacqueline Du Pre building with the help of a porter on the St. Hilda's campus, then waited in the lobby. A bloke walked out about five minutes later and asked me what I was doing. I told him I was waiting for my wife, as she was still watching the gig. He mentioned that he was the promoter and asked if I wanted to watch the ending. I said sure, but remarked that it didn't seem fair because I hadn't bought a ticket. He told me it was fine. Just then, Dan walked out into the lobby with an extra ticket he had been given at the box office. I crept into the hall, which was a lot smaller than I had pictured in my mind--and sat down next to Pixie. Lee was in the middle of a bit about Muslims and Weight Watchers, but I had missed most of it, so I gamely laughed along when I could. He then did a hilarious bit about Richard Littlejohn, the right-wing mouthpiece who used to have a column in that rag 'The Sun' and now writes for 'The Daily Mail' (surprise surprise). I won't give the bit away, in case you're going to see Stewart, but I was nearly pissing myself. The show wrapped up with one of his 'is-he-serious-or-joking-or-maybe-both' moments and then he was out in the lobby, chatting with some of the crowd and selling and signing copies of his 90s Comedian DVD.

So there you have it--one night, two great shows (or a great show and a bit of another great show) and a nice dinner to boot. Go see either, or both in the same night, if you can!

Songs of Praise: The Genius of Roy Wood

I have spent the last few days listening to what is quite probably my favourite reissue of the year. Boulders by former Move, ELO and Wizzard renaissance man Roy Wood has recently found its way back into the shops in remastered form with a rough mix of single 'Dear Elaine' as an added bonus. Anyone with ears that appreciate perfect pop with a twist of crazed genius should own this album. Boulders was actually recorded at Abbey Road studios in 1969 but was not released until 1973, on EMI's 'prog' off-shoot label, Harvest.

The first thing to note about Boulders (original title, Bollocks!) is that all but for the harmonium on opening track, 'Songs of Praise', Wood plays all the instruments and does all the vocals. This may make it sound like some sort of prog rock self-indulgent puff of wind but it really is nothing like that at all: the whole thing is enormous fun and, at times, rather lovely.

My first encounter with this solo masterpiece was via the second single taken from its grooves, 'Dear Elaine'. I bought it on release back in '73 (around the same time as Wizzard's 'Angel Fingers', I believe) and instantly fell in love with its baroque beauty. This song is truly incredible and has remained one of my all-time favourites ever since. I have literally been moved to tears listening to it. The b-side was 'Songs of Praise', which is almost as good in its up-beat glory. I eventually got hold of the whole LP on vinyl but I recently discovered it was no longer in my collection! What happened? Thank the Lord for CD reissues! Other album highlights include 'Miss Clarke and The Computer', which tells the story of a computer that falls in love with the engineer sent to mend it and is genuinly rather touching; 'Wake Up', which uses buckets of water as percussion(!) and the great 'Rock Down Low'. Although there are a few Move and Wizzard-like moments, Wood never really made music like this anywhere else and it's a shame he never seems to have come close to its brilliance since then. Highly recommended if you love real music.