Daffodils and the Car Wash

I'm swerving past the charity shops today just in case they grab me and force me to take back the many bags of some-people's-rubbish-other-people's-treasure. 'Gotcha!'. Will they recognise me? I hope not!

I drove to Trent Park: it's very rare to drive close to home, but it's a long walk and a complicated bus trip. Would the sea of daffodils be there, even though the main building (supposedly in trust for educational purposes) has been turned into luxury flats? Yes, they are still there, though only 50% in bloom at the moment. It's a bit early for them, I think. Enfield has not yet noticed climate change, although it has taken on board ethics change. 

There are murals by Rex Whistler in that building; I know this because not only did I study there, I also taught there. Studying there was wonderful; it involved a long journey from filthy Camberwell, via my sister-in-law's to drop off Offsprog One, up through infinite tube tunnels and out into what seemed like paradise. It wasn't just the lovely surroundings (actual SNOW in winter!) but it was a paradise of knowledge, of a brain finally being ready to learn really complex theories, and a mind broadening to enjoy art-forms I'd never previously seen the point of. Teaching, too: students turned up early for lectures, loved the knowledge, showed off their new tattoos, made eye-contact, asked questions and gave a round of applause at the end of each lecture. It was really stimulating. Then you got to walk down the hill to Oakwood tube station, through the actual oak woods, in a part of Greater London where people didn't strangle each other and steal each other's wallets.

In about ten days time the full display of daffodils will be ready, and people who know about them will make a pilgrimage to see them. Then you'll be able to hear their loud trumpets, playing a joyous spring chorus as they point to the left, point to the right and point up at the sky.. 'Look at us! We're here again!'

And here is a silly thing. I took my car to the automated car wash. It is just so much fun! I remember how thrilling it was when we used to go with McDad when we were children; I couldn't believe that such a mundane thing could be so entertaining. Enormous thundering brushes spin at a relentless speed and approach the windscreen; detergent sprays, water squirts. The car feels little (it is, anyway): over the roof and down the sides the huge brushes sweep simultaneously, whacking the car clean. Maybe time will stop and you'll be stuck there in an endless cycle! Oh no! Help! Finally, the air blows the water off the windscreen, and you're done. What an exciting adventure on a Tuesday afternoon.

It's not that clean, actually. It was shamefully grubby after a couple of long motorway journeys in torrential rain a few weeks ago and there hasn't seemed to be any point in getting in washed while it's been raining so much. This wash is a precursor to a Hungarian hand-wash that I hope might finally remove the moss from around the windows. It's kind of lovely to see it there, but it's probably not very good for the rubber seals. That's what happens when you drive to Scotland: you bring back souvenirs from the countryside and redistribute it darn sarf.

So that's today's adventures. 

Man on Tractor on Hot Day

 

Mad March Hare

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

Snowfall in the House

Triumphant after taking six bags of charity-shop stuff to three different shops, and collecting McMum's coat which I'd had taken up 14 centimetres (the moths were consistent), I unloaded Monday's washing.

Oh no.

Someone left a tissue in a pocket, and that someone was me. Snow all over the kitchen floor.

Two Bags Full

That's two bags of vintage clothes delivered to the Oxfam shop. 

A fine mist of dust is still floating around the house from yesterday, making everything look like a Vermeer painting. Some of it has settled and I've had the Henry (or rather the Henrietta: I wanted a pink one), out for a dust-slurping adventure. 

It's very vacuum-cleaner smelly, because it's a recycled one. I was a bit annoyed when I discovered that a new one would have cost the same amount to buy, but I consoled myself with the fact that there is one less Henry floating around in the Pacific Ocean with all the ancient Duplo and the discarded water-bottles.

Shall I take another couple of bags out? Maybe. I'll have a cup of coffee and make a decision. 

Kojak or charity shops?

Next Week

Next week I'm going away on a solo song writing retreat. I have so many ideas but it's impossible to even start them properly at home because there are so many distractions. 

I did this in 2023: I went away in January that year, and only really wrote one complete song- but somehow the cogs in my mind adjusted themselves and when I got back I just sat down and wrote a whole lot of 'em.

The funny thing is that as soon as I decided what I was going to do, even more ideas popped up. This means that I will have to edit which songs I finish and which I don't. This always feels alarming at the time, but is actually a really good thing to do. I remember when Beyoncé brought out her Lemonade album, it got so many excellent reviews that I really wanted to listen to it. I was fascinated by the song-house idea, too: the problem was that I didn't  know where to start, so I didn't start at all!

Simon Frith, the academic and rock critic, once said that Garageband was the worst thing that had happened to music, because there was a complete flood of DIY music with no mediators. Taking into account that he himself is a mediator and perhaps has a vested interest in protecting opinion-formers, I started to see his point, until I realised that I am one of the guilty parties (though in my case, it's Logic Audio). 

Right from the start, I've filled the cutting room floor with rejected songs, middle eights, lyrics and harmonies. I once overstuffed a song so much that I couldn't decide what to lose and dumped the whole thing. When I did the Showtunes from the Shadows album, I shelved two songs completely. I also chopped out verses and backing vocals, and in one of the songs completely re-wrote the lyrics because they were potentially contentious, and some people didn't want to be associated with it.

Sorry to burble on. Both Offsprogs came here and cleared stuff from the loft yesterday- impressively, they managed to empty about five boxes, but I've now got a very large number of bags to take to charity shops this week, and writing this post is part of an elaborate plan to put that off. I must make a start: I can't go off on a song writing retreat with Toy Story DVDs and redundant costume jewellery piled up in the room to come back to. Such things are energy vampires. Begone!

Valencia in April!

 

There will be an exhibition of my music-based drawings from 15th April for two weeks, and a gig on Friday 17th April 

The Nightingales and Thomas Truax at The Moth Club

I'm so glad Karina persuaded me to go to this gig because it was so worth it. We got there early so we could sit on the chairs close to the stage which was great, but it made Thomas Truax slightly terrifying at the same time. I hadn't seen him before and those who had were incredibly excited about it. On the stage stood a chrome bicycle-wheel modified into a drum machine, and an old-style brass record player horn with various strings, children's sound effects boxes and a microphone attached.

He arrived onstage with a beautiful chrome dobro guitar that sounded fantastic. Whatever effects he was putting it through made it sound much fuller than a dobro's normal tinny, brashy sound. He sang some songs fairly straightforwardly to start with, then gradually introduced the drum machine, and then the modified gramophone horn, and then an instrument he'd made from a drying machine concertina outlet pipe. By the end he was layering sounds with a loop-master, by way of standing on a table and singing, and running out of one door and back in the other, singing. The best bit was when he played the strings on the gramophone horn, which made a deep, resonant sound that was rather beautiful.

Once when I was very little, I went to a party in our village. Overcome with excitement, I stood on a chair to sing, or to announce something: to generally show off. McMum soon intercepted, her furious Protestantism kicking in. 'Sit down at once', she hissed. I was ashamed.

I wonder if Thomas Truax was told to 'sit down at once' when he was a little boy? All of his ideas come tumbling out on stage in a burst of energy, but he has trained himself to make them coherent and efficient; he is a showman, a magician for rock audiences who revert to childhood wonder when they watch him. I'm not sure why I found him unnerving; perhaps I thought he had a bucket of green paint behind the glittery curtain at the back of the Moth Club stage, and he would finish his act by throwing that out over the audience to see if they minded!*

On to The Nightingales, who now have a new member on viola, Natalie Mason. This also means an extra singing voice in the group, and she is just as energetic as the rest of them. Rather than starting a gig, they have lift off like a huge, sonic rocket: they launched straight into the songs, threaded together into one long song that lasted for more than an hour. 

You are totally with them on this journey: suddenly Northern Soul rears its beautiful head, and then morphs into Sea Shanties. Prog rock shakes the stage and batters the eardrums, and then country music sidles into the set. The harmonies are gorgeous, as is the interplay between the viola and Jim's guitar and sometimes the vocals too. Robert Lloyd was in fine, strong voice, his exaggerated vibrato baa-ing like a ferocious sheep in some places, then mellowing to a lovely tenor in others. I didn't know before the gig that making phone calls in Cuba was free, but I do now!

Every member of the band shines in their own unique way. 

Fliss's sticks whack the kit then skedaddle across the snare to the cymbals which beg for mercy, but there is none. Fliss will win, as she always does; the drum kit knows this, but the fight is part of the fun. Andy on bass holds the lower end of the sound down most of the time, but has his moments in the spotlight too. Jim must be able to play thousands of different chords and riffs, finding new ones that haven't even been invented yet. Natalie's viola lines are perfect and she appears to be completely unfazed by what can only be described as Nightingales Normal: madness and beauty tangled up in an extraordinary sonic experience. 

As for Robert...

Even if you were determined not to like the band, the sudden appearance of the bright green kazoo out of his suit pocket will win you over, and you will become a fan. I have known them for ages, and seen them a lot. This was their best ever gig. How silly to have my heart bursting with pride for them, but I couldn't help it.

Off they go for more dates. You might miss them until next time, but meanwhile here is their new record which you can listen to until you get a chance to be in the same room as them: https://nightingales.lnk.to/TheAwfulTruth

*In my autobiography, you'll read about the Tin Of Green Paint incident in the wilds of Northumberland when I was a little tomboy. Except you won't, because I'm not going to write my autobiography.

Portrait of a Turkey

 

Violins, Double Basses etc. In A Shop Window In Stoke Newington

 

Gaelictronica (thanks Ruth!) On Blue Vinyl Imminent!

At last! The vinyl is on it's way and can be pre-ordered here:
https://williegibson.bandcamp.com/album/cailin-mo-ruin-sa-ailein-duinn

Would-be-Goods, Railcard, and Me At The Water Rats Last Night

This was to be a densely packed evening in a densely packed venue. The sound engineer, Ali, took immense care with everyone; a first in my experience was him checking the band then asking them to play the first song so he had something to set everything up to. This was so thorough of him, and when someone takes such a professional approach there's a whole layer of worry you don't need to engage with.

Add to this the fact that this was a Caryne and Dave gig, which meant that everything was super-organised and the publicity stops had been pulled out to their fullest extent, plus everyone in the bands knew each other, or knew of each other, and has done for ages, it was bound to be a good night.

People came really early. I was touched that Gaye and Eric had actually bought tickets. Gaye had a copy of a lost Adverts single in her bag, pink vinyl no less. She hadn't seen Rachel Dollymixture for a long time, and there were a whole bunch of people who were reconnecting, which was also a big plus.

Railcard were first on. You'd expect a band of songwriters to have exceptionally good songs, and they do: sunshine pop with bells on, all played with a massive sense of enjoyment. What really sets them apart is some spectacular and distinctive vocal arranging, delivered absolutely perfectly. Sheer joy emanated from the stage and they were really well-received.

We were on in the middle, and I think something about playing with Robert and Ruth (Robert's gig) on Thursday made the whole thing very confident and happy. I'd been worried about whether we'd get to play everything but having dropped a couple of songs, we managed just fine and it felt wonderful to be so appreciated. Would it be OK to play The Sea? Yes, it was: there was lots of lustily-sung joining in, and we even managed to play Balloon to finish off with.

https://helenmccookerybook.bandcamp.com/track/the-sea

The Would-be-Goods put on an amazing set. I really enjoy seeing them live. They are excellent on record, and in real life the boot up the arse (sorry for crudity) that Andy Warren's bass gives to the songs elevates the band to extra dizzying heights. I was trying to think of a way to describe them earlier on when I was out for a walk and running through the night in my head. They are a unique mixture of elegance and ferocity; they never lose control, but they are extraordinarily strong both creatively (those songs!) and in terms of musicianship. Add to this a sense of dynamics in the set, which is sometimes full-on and sometimes pared back to stark simplicity, and it's impossible not to be mesmerised by it all. Jessica was in fine vocal form on Saturday, too.

What can I say except lucky audience! It was lovely afterwards, because people hung around a bit to chat and they seemed to have enjoyed everything. All sorts of people turned out: Elodie Ginsbourg came from Sheffield with her daughter, Spinmaster Plantpot was there, Karina, Debsey Dollymixture and Paul, Pete Astor, Lester Square (who reconnected with Andy Warren), Rob and Amelia (of course, because they run Skep Wax, who release both Railcard and Would-be-Goods records and had merch to sell), Pete Tainsh, Kevin and Xtina from Rochester, and more people who I will remember later on. I hope those people don't turn up at the next gig like bad fairies at the Christening!

I'm just about to sort out flights to Valencia, where I'll be playing in a bookshop in April alongside an exhibition of my drawings. I'll also be playing at Rebellion again this year (I had to miss last year because of illness), at the John Peel Centre celebration of 50 years of punk (interviewing Charlie Harper and showing the She-Punks film there too), and other things that I will be getting my head around next week.

Robert Rotifer and Drew Morrison and the Darkwood at The Spice of Life

A chilly wind blew but it couldn't blow away my good spirits. We'd had a good rehearsal on Wednesday, a combo of Robert's songs and my own (I have a gig on Saturday at The Water Rats, with Railcard, supporting The Would-be-goods).

It's much less stressful being a guest musician than it is being the principal one. Ruth was there already, Ian turned up and then Robert. Sound check didn't take long: the Green Goddess was sounding it's usual best, and enjoyed being out and about in a guitar-friendly environment.

This was the first night of Drew's new club, and we were seated in the best seats in the house. We could see and hear how well his (new) songs are arranged. The two guitars sounded fantastic, and there was some fabulous chordsmithery and very skilful playing going on. You could see how much the guitarist enjoyed playing- he was almost dancing as he played, and quite clearly is one of those people who lives his musicality. Lots of people enjoy playing, obviously, because otherwise they wouldn't do it- but not everyone is so clearly transported by the music of the band they're in. Great set Drew, and the way the songs are developing is really interesting.

Robert started with Man in Sandwich Board, one of my favourite Robert songs. The core band is Ruth on bass and Ian on drums, but I joined in this one and later, That Was The Time. Robert was in his element, powering through the set despite his guitar trying to disrupt things by repeatedly going out of tune (note to self: ask him to stretch the strings before the gig on Saturday!). He took to the piano for one of his songs, and I joined the band onstage again for Balloon. There was a storming version of Aberdeen Marine Lab, and for encore he played a solo song before the band joined him for Frankfurt Kitchen. Apparently, Ian wrote to V&A East to ask if they could play the song there (they have a full Frankfurt Kitchen on display), but didn't hear back. Typical.

Well, it was a damn good night out. Nice to see Caryne and friends, and other chums!

Poly Styrene Singing

 

Sister Rosetta