Man In Tweed Suit on Tube, London

 

Five Thousand Emails

Over the past ten days I've deleted five thousand emails because the service provider threatened to bounce-back future emails if I didn't.

It felt like clearing out the attic, or throwing away redundant photographs. It was also a revelation; there were situations that I thought I'd imagined that were clearly laid out in email chains, and a clear 'guilty' verdict for a person who'd claimed that I short-changed them emotionally. 

I couldn't delete emails from McDad, my brother James, nor from Ari or Poly Styrene. For some reason that seemed a step too far. 

I still should get rid of more of them- I've only got to the letter 'E' in the alphabet (I became more methodical after realising the sheer weight of numbers that I needed to plough through).

In a similar fashion, I've been having a slash'n'burn clear-out of clothing that I've kept since I was in my twenties and thirties, the trousers laughing at me as I struggled to get into them. They have become breeding grounds for moths, who then proceed to eat their way through newer clothes. It's not so much the body size that I feel nostalgic about, but more the sense of style that I once had. I literally didn't care what anyone else was wearing, I would strut around in a drape suit and brothel creepers when floaty dresses were de rigeur. 

I have got a floaty dress or two nowadays but I draw the line at pussy-bows (how Thatcher!!!) and ruched necklines that make me feel as though my head is going to fall off even when I just look at them. 

Three cheers for trousers! Marvellous things!

Thirty Seven Minutes

I've only managed 37 minutes of recording today. I'd practiced the guitar part earlier on; it's very hard because it involves hammering-on with my left pinky which is double-jointed, and I have to send the brain signal to it every time I use it: 'Do not bend in the wrong direction!'. I'm getting the hang of it, and thought it was worth recording the clumsy riff just so it feels as though I've achieved something today.

Alas, next door's yappy dog started yapping in a chaotic counter-rhythm as soon as I pressed 'record', and although it's stopped now, I've been thrown off my stride by the disruption. It barks at the squirrel, which seems to enjoy baiting the dog when it's not nicking the bird seed from my back yard. Oh, the adventures!

Today's song has worried me because I think I've gone Ordinary. Quite often, bands and artists that I like Go Ordinary and then I don't like them any more. I had to get off the bus three stops early this morning because it wasn't coming all the way up the hill, and while I was walking to the next bus stop, I hit on a plan to de-Ordinarify this song. I can't do that until I finish the lyrics, which are Not Good Enough. 

As you can see, there are a lot of things I need to work on with this one, but it's actually quite thrilling to have a challenge. I know I can't rush it, but I need to work it when I can. The weekend and a lot of next week are going to be jammed up with life's practicalities so I'll have to work round the edges of all that. To me that's normal, after doing a PhD/holding down a job/being a mum. 

Those times when I go away to start a project in my head, oh what a luxury that is!

Anyway. I think I'll listen to yesterday's song, put away the guitar (guitar leads are a trip hazard in a small kitchen) and watch TV this evening. What's on?

Fringe Arts Bath 1

Gisele Pelicot, the Girl Guide we all need, is about to be framed and sent to FaB (Fringe Arts Bath) to be exhibited there.
Many thanks to @chloesavageartist and @katarina_orolinova_art for choosing her!
22nd May to 6th June
https://www.fringeartsbath.co.uk/

On The Golden Hinde

I'm delighted to be supporting Pauline Murray on Sunday 14th June at the Golden Hinde, a ship moored on the River Thames not far from London Bridge. What an amazing venue!

Tickets here: https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/pauline-murray-penetration-helen-mccookerybook-live-on-the-golden-hinde-tickets-1984895127759

Window Cleaner, Charity Shop

 

Weirdness, and Practicality

I had an old-fashioned deadline to revise an academic article in order for it to become a book chapter, which was OK until I learned that I'd need to edit out 3000 words. It's in PDF format, almost impossible to change without conversion software, and I don't even have an up-to-date version of Word any more. I respectfully wrote to the editors yesterday saying that I would not be able to do it; I also no longer have any sort of institutional support. This morning, they offered me a person to help- so it will happen. 

Clunky ancient laptop on the point of dying, I'm dependin' on you son.

I shouldn't be procrastinating at this point but actually I'm taking a breather. I listened to yesterday's song and I'm actually jealous of it! How stupid is that? But it just came rolling out like a steam train. In my night time song terrors, I decided the song that it sounds like is too similar (it's not, really), and that I should revise the original one. This is not a bad thing. I started to write another song today, mostly words with just air where the music should be, so I'm taking that out with me for a walk this afternoon to see what happens.

I'm agitated because of the local elections. There has never been a political party that aligns with what I believe, so I've always voted for the people that I think will work for people who most need to be noticed and helped. This time around, it is hard to see which party this is. All of them are making a noise, and none of the noises are music to my ears. What is most exhausting is the assumptions and declarations made by people in power about what people with left-wing politics believe. This is often infuriating. I think I have probably been braver in challenging unfairness in workplaces and other situations than many of those politicians who have been surrounded by support for their whole lives. There is no point in broadcasting this fact here or anywhere else; it is private information that the internet would love to have so it can twist it and turn it and make it come out bad. Sanctimony is not a good look, and one party lost my vote in one fell swoop this week, because of just that.

So it's time for a last visit to academic writing, which I'd call slow politics. It feels like planting a root for future solidity, good for the soul if not for the bank balance. After tomorrow's inevitable horrors, I feel that the engine of life will start revving again. This weekend I will be making a pineapple upside-down cake for Offsprog Two's birthday complete with glacé cherries in the middle of the pineapple rings. I can't find Angelica unfortunately, so the lurid 1970s elements will be a mite turned down, but I don't think that will matter too much.

No Mow May

I found myself with the responsibility of a huge lawn; I had to sell the house and if it had been up to me I would have left it to grow into a lovely meadow, but house-buyers in the 'burbs like 'neat and tidy'. It was exasperating to have to decapitate all the little flowers every weekend. One Friday morning I went out there and this song showed up in my head to explain how I felt:

https://helenmccookerybook.bandcamp.com/track/daisies

Rock on, No Mow May!

Man With Gigantic Plant At Tube Station

 

Twangling

I've had another one of those days where it's literally taken all day to be able to play the guitar part even semi-correctly. I simply couldn't work out what was going wrong. I doubled the BPMs, halved them, doubled them, went out for a walk. When I got back, I speeded the metronome up by five beats per minute and voila! I could play it well enough to sing over.

The only problem is that it sounds extremely similar to one of the other songs, but that might actually be quite a nice challenge to overcome because it's nothing to do with fingers. But its a whole song, and the other one's only half a song at the moment, so let's see.

Someone knocked at the door yesterday and I was sure it was a Liberal Democrat, but it wasn't: it was a Jehova's Witness, all clad in pale brown and embarrassed. 

I was expecting a delivery (I've ordered a Carlton and his Shoes LP), so the next time someone knocked I thought it would be Royal Male (that's what I'll call him, even though he's too normal to be regal). Nope: it was the Liberal Democrats. 

It's all go in High Barnet, I tell you! 

I've folded up the laptop and wrapped the microphone in its sleeping-cloth. That was enough recording for one day; now it's quiz-show-avoidance time. I know somewhere in the world a lot of people like quizzes but they're keeping quiet about it, rather like (I suspect) Liberal Democrats.

Music Of All Sorts, At All Times

With Holly Cook's lovely voice still ringing in my ears, it was back to Camden on Friday for Gina Birch's concert at The Electric Ballroom. It's an infinitely nicer venue than it used to be, much sparklier and airier.

Mike, Gina's partner, was already busy at the merch stall, and much to my surprise my ex-husband's former law college friend Nick was there, now tour managing the whole Gina Birch/Lesley Woods tour.

After a quick chat to Simon Bazalgette (it was one of those 'everybody's here' nights), Lily Wolter (replacing Marie) and Jenny Green appeared on the stage, closely followed by Gina.

There followed a majestic set of songs re-worked to shake off the heavy reverbs of the album track production, refreshed and with entirely new dynamics. I have seen Gina play countless times, and this was definitely the best. She was confident, committed, and in excellent voice despite telling us that her Mum had just hours to live. There was no self-deprecation: just pure, powerful music that had the crowd in raptures. I Play My Bass Loud was especially strong, as were Feminist Song and Live Forever. The whole set was fascinating musically, listening out for what has changed and what has been consolidated: the sound of the night was the closer to Gina's original song demos than it has ever been. Absolutely brilliant. This was the last date of a tour that sounds as though it has probably been one of the most fulfilling periods in Gina's life.

Afterwards, I had a lovely chat about harmonies and other things with Charley Stone, Miki Beryeni, Kat Five, and a quick hello to Jerry Thackray, who I'll catch up with in Brighton when I support Pauline Murray there next month. I missed Lesley's set, although I heard from Gina that the band play really well, which isn't surprising given that they have Estella Adeyeri on bass.

This afternoon's musical offering was entirely different: two community choirs in Brockwell Park in their community greenhouse area. The Dulwich Folk Choir has been put together by Aimée Leonard, an Orcadian woman who collects 'lost' songs and shares them with a non-auditioned, non gender specific choir who clearly love what they do. They were crisp and well rehearsed, and sang so beautifully that the park blackbird couldn't resist joining in. It was a lovely moment. They were followed by The Carnegie Library Hub Choir, whose repertoire was more varied and complex, including South African songs. They sang heartily, even though only half of the regulars were there. Unmediated voices in the sunshine: what an absolute luxury for the ears.

In the garden there were beehives humming with bees, and a greenhouse full of spectacular cacti and succulents, drunk on happiness and wellbeing. Through the opening of a small, high shed, I could see an elderly man of Caribbean heritage proudly arranging scores of small plastic plant pots, a critique on the lack of sustainability in some gardening practices. 

We ate nectarine cake and thought it was going to rain (it didn't). I came home with a small tomato plant and a pot of sempervivums to insert into my tiny back yard. 

Within two days, I've experienced two musical events at polar opposites of the spectrum of what humans can do with their voices; they were both mesmerising in utterly different ways. What a wonderful world we inhabit, despite the cold cruelty of the people who would like to ruin it for us. It's going to be very hard to vote on Thursday choosing between bad people and bad people and bad people. I would like to vote for the Green Party, but up here they are literally knitted and crocheted, and seem terribly feeble in their crocs. I wish there was a wholesome version of testosterone that could power us into a kinder world where people didn't weaponise religion and heritage and make wars out of it all. If I was God, I'd send all the arms manufacturers and their 'hardware' into deep space in one of Elon's manrockets and tell them not to come home to Earth ever again. But I'm not. I wish I was.

Bandcamp Friday Bargain

 #Bandcampfriday #vinyl 7# EP to £5.00

Reduced for this weekend only. Digital version also available.

Cover versions of four songs by The Chefs by original members James McCallum and yours truly

https://helenmccookerybook.bandcamp.com/album/the-pop-up-chefs-ep

Also

A few years ago, Joly McFie from Better Badges (I used to work for them back in the day) got in touch with me because he thought I should offer this song to Hollie. I did, and she was very nice about it but pointed out that she already had a song-writing team to collaborate with. 

A near miss! Perhaps I should change my name to 'Near Miss Helen' instead of Dr Helen. 

Now there's a thought.

https://soundcloud.com/mccookerybook/3-steal-you-away

Hollie Cook at The Jazz Café

Hollie used to sing with the New Slits; she was part of Ari's musical collective, and lived the surreal onstage fun of that band with a hundred percent commitment. It was wonderful to hear her own music being played by Riley and Coe on their BBC6 show, and I bought her vinyl album straight away.

Alas, her next gig was in the deep south of London- buses and unreliable train services from the cold north meant that it looked like a dodgy journey and I didn't go. How wonderful to see her at the Jazz Caff, a mere stone's throw down the road.

I went stupidly early but that gave me a chance to listen to the reggae tracks being played beforehand. What fantastic production! Some of the music was so old-skool you could hear where the volume knobs on the mixing desk had been physically turned up and down to control the dynamics of the guitar-playing. The endless appeal of reggae is the way the instruments talk to each other across space; rather than putting together an instrumental arrangement and mixing it afterwards, it's almost as though the space is respected first, and then the music appears as an afterthought, assembled around the space to show off its beauty. 

I was Shazzaming like crazy, although I did recognise Carlton And His Shoes. There's something about the ultra-diction in the way he sings, and also the way the music is so casual it sounds as though it's almost falling apart: I wonder if there are any albums of their stuff. As the playlist moved on to Lover's Rock, it was apparent that the production values are completely different in the Jamaican versions of that music genre (although not the English tracks produced by Dennis Bovell, for instance). The instrumentation is much more clustered-together, and in the case of Susan Cadogan's Hurts So Good, the sound is positively mushy. It was Pete Waterman who 'broke' Hurts So Good, thus kick-starting his career. 

There was one track played earlier on where the horn section was so woefully out of tune with the rest of the track that I looked at the DJ as though he could have done something about it, before realising that of course, he couldn't!

In itself, the first part of the evening was very listenable; those roots reggae tracks are so beautifully sonically crafted, although in more than a few of them women don't get off lightly. Awful beings, aren't we?

Not Hollie, though! As soon as she came on to the stage, she brought her own atmosphere and her own aesthetic to the evening. As her set progressed, the appeal of her singing voice became more and more apparent. She has that rare thing: an utterly unaffected delivery. No vocal fry (urgh, I hate it!), no vibrato, no swoopings or cooing 'sexy' breathiness (those copious music degrees stuffed with ancient jazz fellers have a lot to answer for). She sounds like herself: pitch-perfect, fresh and confident.

Being a long-term fan of Lovers' Rock singers like Carroll Thompson and Janet Kay (whose voices I also love) could make me hyper-critical of a new singer on the block, but she really is a fabulous performer. I was trying to think of a way to describe her vocal timbre, and all I could think of is that it's the sound of sunshine. Her voice works an instrument that fits perfectly into the very well-rehearsed reggae band she has. The band is notably good, especially the backing vocals performed in perfect falsettos by the keyboard player and the guitarist. The only other man who I've seen do this so perfectly and unobtrusively is Rachel Love's keyboard player from her band the Loveables. Like his, their vocal tones were gentle, neat and completely in tune. The trombone player was also very good (trombones are definitely having a moment- Laetitia Sadier was playing one with Stereolab a couple of months ago). A well-played trombone is like a friend who exaggerates: over perky at times, over lachrymose at others. It was nice that he didn't dominate the music; he was essential to the sound but he didn't overplay. 

All I can say is- buy the record! The only thing I didn't like was the packedness of the venue and it's inevitable braying young men who thought what they had to say in loud hooting voices was more important than the music. Some of them also thought pushing through the crowd with hands full of drinks was what the evening was all about. It wasn't. Stay at home next time.

What else? Hollie's parents were there in the scrum listening intently, and I think I spotted Paul Weller, although it could have been his doppelganger, Saul.

A lot of female singers could learn from Hollie's complete unaffectedness. She smiles, she is charming, but she is also guileless. It's probably a blessing that she isn't as famous as she should be. Voices like hers are extremely rare, and it felt like a complete privilege to be able to listen to her at such close quarters. Rock royalty in the making!

 

Interview with Israel Sanchez Fuster, from Valencia

 https://www.ivoox.com/en/cactus-radiozine-27-abril-2026-helen-mccookerybook-audios-mp3_rf_172501927_1.html