Sunday, January 26, 2020

Acid Brass, Under the Bridge

Offsprog Two and her crew! We got there far too early and talked about art exhibitions, Hastings and how posh Under the Bridge is, in a very quirky way (lampshades a-la-Anne Summers, according to one of the party).
Acid Brass is a project dreamed up by Jeremy Deller for this big band from Stockport, The Williams Fairey Band, playing predominantly 90s acid house songs. As soon as they hit the stage, the euphonium players hauling their massive instruments up to their lips, the music hit us with a bang and it was impossible not to dance. What energy- and what perfect tempo, timing, and all that jazz! Their drummer is a genius of marching band detail- I was wildly jealous of his hi-hat skills, but every member of the band is 100% committed and an excellent player. There are lots of women players, taking starring roles, and the conductor is what Action Man could only dream of being- he charges across the front of the stage, stabbing the air with his baton, mouthing instructions, papers and scores scattering in the wind of his energy. His holiday camp style exhortations between songs only add to the atmosphere, and the band laugh along indulgently. We were in front of the aforementioned euphoniums (euphonia?) close enough to hear the intricacy of the arrangements, which are detailed, very cleverly observed, and absolutely unique.
I have snippet of film which I probably can't upload here, but here's their best one on record.
Testament to how good they were, I danced for the entire almost an hour and a half that they played. I had gone out the night before too, and might write about that later when I take a break- and I had a very busy day yesterday. But they were completely energising and I'm so glad I went.
Now, I'm going to start finishing the book. I sent off the article on Friday: there was nothing more I could do, so off it went. I hope to get there with the book, too, this week or next week. See you later!



Friday, January 24, 2020

Good'n'Bad

Good: sent off academic article (book still yet to be finished); wrote out chords for A Good Life with a Bad Apple for the double bass player for the Lexington gig; finished a new song.
Bad: locked myself out of my house and had to pay a fortune to get back in again; iPad appears to be dying and won't upload to Wetransfer.

I'm so tired! There's been so much music this week, so much writing, so much teaching. But look what it's like out there: GREY.
Might as well be busy, huh?




Wednesday, January 22, 2020

Terry Jones

The thing about Terry Jones is that he was political. No namby pambying about and being afraid of annoying people in the business- he had a company called Smith Bundy Video in the late 1980s/early 90s (I think) which made left wing videos, and made a promo film for Shelter, for instance, before it was afraid to be an actively political charity. I used to write music for them, that's how I know: Alexei Sayle charging down the street and pretending to be a rogue landlord, that sort of thing.
I met Terry Jones at one of their parties, and he was mingling with everyone in a very unfamous way. I rather liked the fact that he was there in his jumper in ordinary old Brixton with a bunch of feminists, black activists and wannabe film-makers before it got gentrified, while the others from Monty Python were in LA or Notting Hill drinking the best wine.
I am very sorry to hear that he has died, and sorrier still to hear how much he suffered from such a cruel disease. It is still great to have admired him for having principles though.
More people like that, please!

(and less people like Laurence Fox, please)

Teaching

Teaching can be tiring but it's also extremely rewarding when you are working with talented people- not just mechanical or aesthetic talents, but with people talents.
It's heartening to know that despite feeling that the world is run by big ******s for the benefit of other big ******s, there are people who think and act for the benefit of the greater good.
This matters a lot.

Sunday, January 19, 2020

Fungifest

Despite it being January, these guys were out in the woods in full display on Saturday. Once you noticed them, they were everywhere. Later, my walking companion and me got lost on a massive, deserted golf course. It was terrifying- like a scene from Oh Lucky Man or something. At any moment, a golf cart carrying thugs in uniform and carrying rifles might have turned up, snapped handcuffs on to us and carried us off to be experimented on. Luckily, after about an hour's wandering and a huge leap over an impossibly wide, fast-running and very cold-looking stream, some golfers materialised and told us how to get out. Apart from that- I'm still writing. The dull and dismal days are passing at a fast and furious rate, but I do believe I'm getting there.








Friday, January 17, 2020

Progressive Punk Rock

It felt like there had been no progress with my writing at all today- a morning spent reading, searching for and ordering library books to be picked up next week; making some corrections and shifting paragraphs about this afternoon- but somehow I've reached the last paragraph of the article on punk. The last few sentences, even.
I have thrown away a stack of earlier drafts, and tidied up the reference book pile (yesterday's haul was useless, apart from the annoying male academic who slags off female academics and doesn't appear to notice that it's only the women he criticises).
So, progress has been made!

Part of the day has been spent being appalled at Laurence Fox. I don't normally watch BBC's Question Time because it has always had such an air of a set-up job, but clips of it were circulating on Twitter, and I couldn't help but see it. After the thoughts inspired by yesterday's symposium, it was almost as though fate served up a scripted example of a famous and privileged white man interrupting and talking over a woman from the audience who had been invited to speak, and who was trying to disagree with him. That's the last time I ever watch him in anything! I can't imagine what it must be like working with him.
Or rather, I can.
I have worked with people like him and it's shockingly awful.

I'm having a day off tomorrow, then going back to writing the book on Sunday. It's reached a similar point to the article, though scaled up to 70,000 words rather than 7000. There are tons of bits and pieces, loose ends to tie up, and it'll probably be another two weeks before it feels 'almost finished'.
I should probably start printing and painting the covers for Pea Soup soon. I should probably also get some new photographs done, but I look like an underdone Cornish Pasty at the moment: kind of pinched in and flabby.
I may just have to live with this: I have reached the point of future dread!

Friday Lovers 4 U

Thursday, January 16, 2020

A Day Of Failed Missions

Marched to Stratford campus library: picked up two books on Heavy Metal; marched to the other campus to a diversity symposium (fantastic as always). Hadn't realised it was morning-only, so found myself with spare afternoon.
Printed out academic article and last chapter of book. First printer I tried didn't work. Always happens.
Asked security guards if a book I ordered was there at the desk, because I'd had an email to say it was. Over-efficient, a porter had taken it upstairs to the post room, where it still is behind a door that I have forgotten the door code to.
Came home and sat.
Got bus to Post Sorting Office to pick up parcel. It won't be back there till tomorrow. Postman still has it.
Set off for evening class, and was almost there when I discovered that it had been cancelled.
Came home and went to supermarket to buy food.
Checkout lady was humming: 'It's very good for stress: you should try it!'
Came home and ate the food.
Just done another hour's work on the article: two crucial pages to go before it's finished, and I'm too tired to do them tonight so I'm writing this instead.
Excuse the hurryprose. It's just one of them sorta days.

Wednesday, January 15, 2020

Birthday Brown Things

I had a birthday not so long ago.
Luckily, I'm so old that I can't remember how old I was!
More luckily still, Gina took me to The Wolseley for brunch, and told them it was my birthday celebration. Big thanks, Gina!
They very kindly brought out these brown things, which are incredibly impressive.
I believe custard is involved somehow.
They will be cracked open after I've digested brunch, which happened six and a half hours ago, and which I'm still digesting.
Maybe I should eat posh grub more often: it's remarkably long lasting.
(and yes, I came home and started writing again. This part of it is called 'getting rid of the red bits' and mostly involves me copying them and pasting them into a file called 'Edited Out').
What is left may, or may not, make sense. I'm beyond being able to understand it.



Monday, January 13, 2020

Stumbling

Maybe it's to early to 'assess' the day.... I managed to read and take notes from three academic articles this morning, went shops, and then lost my drive for writing!

This afternoon I realised that I have to write out the chords for my songs for this gig at the Lexington on 21st of March, because (thanks to Drew Morrison of Country Soul sessions fame) I have recruited a double bass player. I had double bass playing on the Suburban Pastoral album and also the Christmas Assortment EP, and have used cello quite often- live, too, when I first started up again in 2006. But I've never played live with a double bass before, which is exciting and scary in equal parts.
Transcribing chords takes a long time, because I don't pay attention to what the chords are when I write songs: I just play what sounds right, and even make up chords if I have to, which is awkward it you're trying to tell another musician how to play your songs. I've done two so far, with another three almost done. I might send those ones off tonight if I can finish them, and then go back to academic writing tomorrow.
Work has started up again, too which means that it's going to be bloody busy, but I've been bloody busy before and managed perfectly adequately.





Sunday, January 12, 2020

Fold Up

That's another day's writing in the can. I hope that the article for Popular Music History will be ready to send off after one more day's work, and I hope they accept it (!). Tomorrow, I'll work on the book again. I'm going through the conclusion and there are three academic articles to read before approaching it again.
Meanwhile, a few gigs are showing up and I hope to be able to call that a 'tour' in a couple of weeks' time!
It looked nice out there today. I was in here eating toast and cherries and concentrating, with the comforting backdrop of the washing machine gurgling through its load.
At least I didn't feel like the only thing working.
Thing.
Yes.

Friday, January 10, 2020

On Being Miniature

Somehow, I managed to work until 9 p.m. yesterday evening.
Bloody Presbyterian work ethic! If you don't do something socially useful for a living, you're socially useless... how I wish I could shake it off.
A lot of it has been academic reading rather than writing, and then there was the admin stuff to do with my job.
I'm just about to dive into 'Writing 2'. I am writing two things simultaneously; editor's responses have turned up for both of the pieces that Dave Laing was due to edit; and the deadline for both is roughly the same- the end of January. I spend one day doing one, the next day doing the other, writing songs in between (actually, in my head through the night: sleep is a stranger at the moment).
In about a week's time I'm going to start manufacturing the covers for the Pea Soup album.
Why do an album so tiny, a 7" piece of vinyl, with 5 miniature songs on each side?
Well, women are taught to be miniature, aren't we? We have to fit into spaces below men in the pecking order, being as invisible and as amenable as possible, otherwise we are 'loud'.
I'm not particularly loud, because I'm a natural introvert in extrovert land (the music industry), but I'm louder than a lot of women, thanks to punk, and my 'noise' has been remarked upon constantly throughout my life. By men! Just because I say what I believe, and not what I am supposed to believe. For the Slits documentary, I talked a bit about how when you are born (or at least, when my generation of women was born), almost the first thing were are taught was to 'shut up'. Even now, an invisible hand covers my mouth before I say anything, and I talk for a living. I have to bust through it every time, still. This is why song writing has been so great- the words sail out of your mouth without that happening.
Back to Pea Soup...  it's a celebration of that tininess, a parody of the Small World, recorded and made as carefully as any artist would make a Big One. Finished by hand, making a craft of an object that should be mass-produced. It's also a comment on the music industry's scale that shrinks music into a commodity, into 'units' that are 'shifted'.
Every one of these units will be carefully made; 'blah' to bigness, 'blah' to shutting up. My life is big enough for me, and my voice is loud enough too, thanks to music.