The Puppets Have Strings

 

Man Clearing A Pond In Porto

 

Weird Vacuum

I'm in a state of weird vacuum after sending off the album tracks yesterday. They have winged their way to Valencia in Spain, which I understand is incredibly and unbearably hot; here, it's cool and rainy. Hooray, say the plants in the back yard. 

I feel like I've forgotten how to socialise, but it's only about ten days ago when hyper-social KISMIF happened. I've temporarily logged out of life: I keep seeing wonderful events being advertised that I have just missed by the skin of my teeth. But I've also been grounded for two weeks by the builder installing a new kitchen in the house, which was creatively designed on a computer that neglected to say that the kitchen would be the size of the standard cupboard door measurements, and not the size indicated by the picture on its screen. Never mind. The old doors were falling off and the white plastic laminate was ballooning off some of them too. 

Upstairs, I've mixed and mixed the album tracks, finished the puppets for the cover, mistress-minded the design, read three crime novels, done loads of drawing, and tidied up a tiny bit. I also spent last Sunday transporting Offsprog One and a whole load of her books and helping to stash them in the loft. 

I think (and hope) the kitchen will be finished tomorrow, and then I'll have to put everything back in the cupboards. After getting rid of three bin-bag-loads of stuff I didn't need, there might be room for microphones and other tech-y things in the new cupboards, because of course the kitchen is also a recording studio. There is no kitchen sink at the moment, so there is no drama. Life is not bland, however. There will be plenty going on next week at Rebellion.

Cut War Not Healthcare

 

Mixes and Covers

I have literally spent days twiddling with the mixes, sorting glitches, dodging around Logic Audio's attempts to scupper tracks by losing sections of them during export, etc etc. 

The final mixes are going to be sent off to Tiny Global tonight. I haven't got enough broadband to be able to send them from here, so they are en route to my friend's dad's house in the north-west of England to wing their way from there (all my other pals with broad-broadband are busy today). I had a last-minute go at three of the tracks this morning, and I honestly don't think I can do any better.

So now on to the LP sleeve. I've spent ages folding tiny paper ruffs for these guys today, although they can't wear them until their photo session, because if they lie flat they'll squash them. The jump rings arrived this morning so I was able to attach their limbs, and now I have to find something suitable for their strings. I've chose a font for the titles, asked the guest musicians for self-portraits, and am thinking about what information needs to be on the back of it.

Maybe now I can stop mixing music in my sleep!

Hampstead Heath

 

Temple of Ideas is an event run on Saturday afternoons on Hampstead Heath by Meg Lee Chin, and it's basically an open mic for over-55 aged poets, comedians and songwriters. I love playing in the open air, and I said 'yes' to this as soon as Meg invited me about a month ago. It starts at about 3 p.m. and we were treated to some quite sombre poetry from two poets, and some lovely music and comedy too. My favourite act was a Czech comedian who pitched her material just right: she flipped British people's racist assumptions right on their heads in an almost affectionate way, which worked really well. My guitar broke (!) and I had to borrow a Takamine from Ben, the other musician, which was very kind of him. Compared to the electric guitars that I normally play it was a difficult proposition, but it helped me to keep my set within the allotted time, which the following poet had a problem or two with. Open mics help to keep your feet on the ground, because you have to develop patience while other artists are playing, and stick to your time slot. You simply can't feel that you are more important than other performers: everyone is equal. I didn't envy Meg having to get him to stop, but she did so very politely. There was a dedicated audience of about 15 people draped on the grass and rickety camping chairs, one or two in the greenery out of the sun, and some wanderer-uppers, including a dog or two. I loved the informality of it all; it was a great antidote to the heavy-duty editing I've been doing fo the album in the past week. I just have to find a way to upload the tracks to send off, because my home Broadband is too weedy to cope!

Woman Gardener with Rake and Hen, Cristal Palace Gardens, Porto

 

Puppet Progress

A builder is downstairs, building. 

I am upstairs, painting puppets for the sleeve of my forthcoming album. I have averted disasters: not putting a screw-eye in the tops of their heads for strings (I did it very gently even though they are dry now), and losing the indigo paper (found it under some pillows).

I'm just waiting for jewellers jump-rings in the post, to join their heads and limbs to their bodies. I'll varnish them before that to fix the paint, then I'll make their stage.

Margaux is remarkably jealous. I thought she'd be delighted to have playmates.

I was going to finish the editing and mixing today but I woke up too early and have tinnitis. That can be tomorrow's job.

The KISMIF Conference, Porto

KISMIF ('Keep It Simple, Make It Fast') is a hybrid conference of DIY theory and practice that celebrated its tenth birthday this year. Behind it is a team led by Paula Guerra, a woman whose vision and persuasive powers pull in (this year) academics and practitioners from seventy different countries to share their knowledge and enthusiasms in a series of workshops, panels, seminars, sessions, gigs, conversations and late-night bar conversations that means everyone leaves having gained not only a huge amount of knowledge but also a huge amount of new friendships.

I'd been before, to present a paper, to show rushes of our She-Punks film, to appear on a panel talking about my book on women and music technology. If there was one academic conference that I would really want to attend despite my academic career being at an end, it was this one. Two years out of the scrum my research has not been refreshed, but my music is alive and kicking so I proposed a collaborative political songwriting session for the Summer School part of the conference and was also asked to chair a panel that included Palmolive who I had never met before, which was really exciting.

Porto was misty and rainy, but still really beautiful. When I arrived on Monday, I made a quick visit to the Crystal Palace Gardens to see the cockerels, the hens and the pheasants, and then turned in for the night.

'How many people will be at the workshop?', I asked the facilitator. 'Oh, about forty', was the reply. Yikes! In reality, there were probably just over thirty people, and we got started straight away. Mary Fogarty was there (hooray!). Between all the group members, we soon filled huge sheets of paper with short phrases that might form a song. A guitar turned up (double hooray!), and 45 minutes later we had a group song. Some participants particularly enjoyed it, because they are not allowed to express personal political beliefs in their own countries. That alone made it worth doing, but it was a remarkably positive experience anyway. I hope to carry on doing this now, maybe with trade unions or other political or campaign organisations. It works, and each song is unique: instigated, formed and developed by a group of people who have a stake in the creativity rather than copyright and personal ownership.

We watched Mary's film of queer dancers that was simultaneously a parody of the dance element of the Olympics, and a celebration of freedom of expression, and then Federica Manfredi's workshop on artistic responses to vulva pain. Simon Zagorski-Thomas was there with a music installation which I never managed to find because the conference was spread over venues all over the central part of the city.

The final experience of the morning was an online presentation on Democracy, Wellbeing and the Environment, about Brazilian indigenous women, by Giovana Mandulao. She is from the Brazilian Ministry of Health, with a focus on indigenous health. It was very interesting.

I went back to the gardens for some peace with the chickens, and then spent the rest of the day with a Vera novel from a charity shop, winding down from all the excitement and social contact.

Next morning, there was a panel with Will Straw talking about queer disco dancing at the end of contemporary films, and Professor Silva, who did a wonderful paper about the Portugese revolution and artistic responses to it. I'd spent half an hour walking round an incredible graveyard with tombs so huge that some of them even seemed to have their own rubbish bins, and I felt steeped in Portugese history by the end of the morning.

I took some time out to research background information for the panel the next day, and then had a walk to the Sao Bento station to look at the beautiful tiling. Porto is up hills and down hills, round corners and up and down stairs... and there was the Puppet Museum, small and perfectly formed in a street that I'd walked past several times. It took an hour to find it, and afterwards the sun came out and I went back to hang out with the real live birds.

It was positively foggy on Thursday morning; the panel with Paloma, Laura Way and Amina Boubia was at a cinema next to an incredibly beautiful tiled building (adjacent photograph) that was almost a ruin; in some ways that made it all the more beautiful. 

The beginning of the session was hectic, with some technical issues that included a tech man being on his phone halfway through one of the papers, seemingly oblivious to the fact that we was audible to the whole audience. I tried to kill him with a look, but my looks don't kill and eventually he ended the call. Laura's paper was on defiant older women punks, Amina's was on free music festivals in Morocco, and Paloma's was on her early life in Spain and her journey through to London and the Slits. I learned so much from all three; by then we were running an hour late because of the technical problems. At one point I said 'Shall we just write a song?', and straight away Christine Feldman-Barrett responded with the title 'There Is No Power In Powerpoint'. Now there's a title for a room full of academics!

Lucy Robinson, Matt Worley and Simon Strange were all at that session, and probably lots of other people that I knew, but something about the panel had bonded the four of us and our quick cup of coffee afterwards turned into several hours of hanging out; later, I showed Paloma the gardens, and we all met up in the evening with Christine and Angels Bronsoms to eat together. I think they are all still hanging out together even though I came back yesterday, and Christine left for Lisbon. It was such fun to learn about what everyone is doing. Christine has an album coming out of archive stuff from her riot grrrl band, and those of us with daughters talked about that, and we talked about our research and our music and so many things. Six women: American living in Australia, Spanish living in America, Moroccan, British. What a lot there was to talk about! 

I came home feeling energised, loving Porto more than ever, feeling grateful for my life and remembering yet again that (despite the shitty parts of it) it is full of new experiences and interactions that make it endlessly interesting and stimulating. Three cheers for Porto, three cheers for Paula and KISMIF and all who sail in her, three cheers for the song writing group, three cheers for the chickens and peacocks!

Back!

I've been in Porto, running a songwriting session at the KISMIF Summer school and later, chairing a fascinating panel. More tomorrow.

Pop at the Lock

I can't believe that I only took one photograph! I think that might be proof of what a great festival it was: so much talking, listening and playing. There was hardly even time to eat: I collected some food then spent a good half an hour conversing with people before having time to eat it!

After a stressful drive, thanks to my car's computer telling me that I had a flat tyre, things were just revving up when I got there. Ian Button had asked me to interview him as part of his set, and on Friday afternoon I'd read through his latest book of Toni Tubna stories and prepared a question for each of the songs. I was Dr Punk, the psychologist, and I think his idea worked really well; my white doctor's coat came out again after its spell of hibernation post-Beefheart Musical.

I could hear Big Other from the merch stall; and they delivered a strong set that was really quite muscular in comparison to Ian's more delicate songs. That was a foretaste of the sheer variety to come. As with many festivals it was impossible to see/hear everything, and I was sad to have missed the artists playing on the acoustic stage, many of whom are friends.

We played at 5.30 and our McCookerybook and Rotifer set is almost exactly 40 minutes long, so we slotted in perfectly, I think. It was only at the end that I realised that I'd had no vocals in my monitor. I am so used to playing at gigs with rubbish PAs that I didn't even think to ask for it; all I could hear was the occasional wispy reflection off the marquee walls, but people said it was OK. It remains an absolute pleasure to gig with Robert; he is so energetic on stage. I am aware of being the roots of the tree, and he is the branches, alternately thrashing or waving, depending on the song. I particularly enjoyed playing Balloon, which seemed the right song for the political changes, the weather and the crowd all put together. I could see Gareth singing along at the back of the tent!

Despite the fact that we were competing with the England match, I think we had a decent crowd.

Ay Carmela were another energetic band, this time a three piece from Bristol with a truly excellent female drummer whose sticks skidded across the snare like the best marching drummers you could ever see. I had a good chat with them earlier on, about punk and other things.

Having to check in early at the pub I was staying at, I missed part of Nervous Twitch's set apart from the last two songs. They are such a strong band. I've played on the same bill twice before with them, most notably in a very odd boxing club in Hull. In an strange sort of way they remind me of a punk version of the Stray Cats, albeit with a female singer/guitarist. It's the clarity of everything: the arrangements, the songs and the sound. They do a lot of gigs and are well worth seeing if you get the chance. There is an unpretentious joy about what they do that is quite unbeatable.

Next up was Spearmint, a band I hadn't even heard of before. They have a long track record of independent releases and are not only accomplished songsmiths but they delivered a really tight, well-rehearsed set with some distinctive guitar playing, solid bass-playing from Rhodri Marsden, and original storytelling both in song and between-song anecdotes from their singer. They had stadium-band levels of confidence and musicianship but still came across as a band-next-door, which I thought was a rather magnificent feat to pull. I'm going to do some serious listening to their songs.

Last but not least were BMX Bandits, or two of them at least. I'd chatted to Duglas earlier on too, first time we've ever spoken though we have often been under the same roof. I'd really enjoyed their session on Riley and Coe's show on BBC6 Radio a few weeks ago and the duo played a few songs from that. I don't know what it is about Glasgow, but it churns out good song writers at a speed of knots, and the same can be said of guitarists. I was wildly jealous not only of the guitarist's blond wood archtop with the fabulous sound, but also of his effortlessly brilliant playing. I was agog! Add that to Duglas's charming delivery which made a friend of everyone in that tent, plus truly unique songs, and this was a perfect end to a very busy and inspiring day!

Shouts to Kevin, Linda and Gareth for organising it, to my musical pals Robert and Ian and to Judith; to The Sunbathers, whom I hope to gig with again soon; to Marion Leonard whose presence was completely unexpected but lovely; to the friendly bands; to the Sarah Records Book people, also really friendly; to the sound guy and the DJ; and to everyone else. I hope the charities made lots of money.

Sorry I am so crap with names today; I got up very early to drive back so I could avoid the traffic on the deadly M1. I hope everyone else got back safely too. 

My only photo: Spearmint being photographed by a member of the audience.

Scenery: Toile de Jouy

 

Screamies

They're supposed to be singing!

The Disappointers

I think the one that finally got me was Rolf Harris. I had loved him so much as a child, and he just never seemed weird or creepy like the loathesome Savile (obvious danger signals even for me when I was very little), Jonathan King (hard to engage with) or Gary Glitter (just damn weird). 

Harris was proof of just how a narcissistic personality can convince people that they are innocent and cuddly, when in fact they are nothing like that at all.

Alongside all the rest of things wonderful and terrible that life brings, there is a skinny timeline of disappointers. 

No more Woody Allen films, for instance. Formerly cuddly public figures who were not who they seemed to be narrow the focus, just as much as tax-avoiding (AKA criminal) businesses who have to be boycotted, or arms/fossil fuel funders who have to be turned away from. 

A former favourite author saw their books thrown into the recycling bin because I felt they needed to be taken out of circulation. An antisemitic musician now longer tempts me to tap my feet, and another at the other end of the scale makes me turn off the radio.

I think one of the problems might be the feeling of people who have become famous in a particular walk of life that that they are wise, invincible and beyond criticism. Gradually, I'm coming to realise that there's an element of mental illness associated with great fame; such people become isolated from reality, and develop a sense of entitlement to explain just why they should act or speak in a certain way.

What are rules except to be broken? Personal ethics and compassion feel like self-imposed restraints that need to be discarded. 'Their public' will surely agree with them, wherever they go on their 'journey'. 

Every time another one bubbles up to the surface, I inwardly groan. It could be a seedy revelation, it could be a pompous pronouncement that they expect everyone to agree with. I'm so disappointed sometimes.

Bodies And Limbs

Arms, legs and bodies: here they are, laid out drying and ready to be assembled when I've finished their heads. These are for the puppet theatre I'm going to make and photograph for the album cover. I have the image in my head and it's just a case of putting everything together to get there.

Yesterday, I recorded James's backing vocal for Sixties Guy. That's the very last thing. 

Afterwards I loaded in the track by the Brighton band Assistant that I'm due to remix.

So it's WimbledonFootballVoting. I'm always scared that I'll forget to vote, and it's always a relief when I have done it. These are such febrile times, and no political party represents what I want. They never have. But I am always aware that democracy is vital, and often vote tactically. If I don't do that, then I think about who will do the most for the people at the very bottom of the social hierarchy- and so often they don't vote. If they are financially secure, healthy, housed safely, have good food and decent education, then I will be happy.

Where was I?

Oh yes!

Perfect Days

I felt remarkably agitated after finishing the album (almost-finishing: I still have to have a final listen, top and tail the tracks and decide what's not going on the vinyl version). For weeks I've wanted to see the Wim Wenders film Perfect Day, and had an aborted attempt a few weeks ago where I had such bad post-viral fatigue after a Covid infection that I got halfway down the street, and had to come home again.

Yesterday's treat was to go to see it: I found a cinema in London that was still screening it and headed down there. What a wonderful film! It is completely mesmerising. It celebrates boringness and contentment, and as a direct opposite to many films, you find yourself hoping that nothing will happen to upset the protagonist's equilibrium. He has the most meaningful of lives, in that his lifestyle means so much to him. He is useful, wise, and engages with people whom life often passes by and with things that many people don't notice. It's a critique both of film and of storytelling. So much depends on his facial expressions; the actor is a genius, as are the supporting cast. They are all completely believable.

There are so many different versions of catharsis. I found Barbie cathartic; that too was a critique of film-making and was a fantastic riposte to toxic masculinity, because it bypassed it entirely. I came out of that film laughing and happy.

This one, I came out with a feeling of complete serenity. The sound design is excellent: subtly, you start to listen to every sound that is happening, and you gradually build up the way the protagonist measures his day by being attuned to everything around him. 

You know he is doing the most dirty of jobs imaginable, but the toilets themselves are pristine by the time he's finished with them. They are quiet and calm, a reflection of his nature. And even in the aerial shots of Tokyo's version of spaghetti junction, his van is often to be seen pootling in the opposite direction of the chaotic traffic jams.

How clever to make a film that is so restrained yet so beautifully detailed. Artistic wisdom was at work from the whole team involved from the director, through the actors, to the props, locations and sound. Perfect Days, perfect film.

Woman Sits Texting On Train Platform Behind Overflowing Bin, Crewe Station

 

Man Fixing Car, Oakleigh Park

 

Album Finished

What a weird feeling. After working hell-for-leather for months and double hell-for-leather last week, I've more or less finished the album. I'm just waiting for a few days to let the mixes settle in, and then will have one last critical listen and do the fades and other little bits and pieces.

Apparently I've recorded too many songs for a vinyl album (there is 49 minutes of music!), so some of them will have to go on an additional CD, but that's OK by me.

I actually played one of the new ones at Scaledown on Friday, Almost There. It seemed to go down quite well. I'd intended to play London because it was the 20th Anniversary, and I reckon I played that at one of my very first solo gigs there 18 years ago. My fingers said 'no', so I played Temptation instead.

Scaledown is such a friendly club. Bettina and James were playing/doing poetry, and Jude did a set. there was a heavy metal chap, and Trombone Poetry. I wonder if he remembered playing a couple of gigs with Helen and the Horns? As always, the audience listened to absolutely every note and every word. Wonderful. 

I had a reminisce with Tim from Transglobal Underground about the Edinburgh Fringe Dr Calamari's Music Hall of the Macabre show we did, with Lester Square and a cast of thousands- well, thirty of us, anyway. I made a new friend, a woman who used to run a rock and roll record shop in Camden. 

Next up, an illustration for Laura Whitfield's poetry zine, and a remix for a Brighton band called Assistant, which I should have done ages ago.

And make the puppets for the album cover!

Men Fixing House

 

More Singing And Bits And Pieces

Oh Em Gee, I think I'm almost ready to mix! I have been very tired after a day out yesterday, but that seems to have affected my mindedness (as in 'absent') rather than my voice. I hope that I haven't deleted anything essential.

I did some more singing this morning, replacing some vocals that didn't have the right mood. I have been haunted by comments made about a certain singer that I'm sometimes compared with who was reported to sound like singing a telephone directory, but actually that's what I want! I've de-emoted one of the songs.

Every time I change anything the whole lot gets disrupted, but I do have a trick up my sleeve that I haven't used yet.

Oh, and just a bit of guitarring to add to a song, which I'll probably do tomorrow morning. I've discovered that radical mix decisions are best made just before I go out somewhere so I can't dither; it helps me be decisive. 

I chose a bass guitar take by Winston Blissett yesterday that radicalises the whole pretty song on the last note. 'Should I do this? It might be a bit extreme'. 'Yes', I said. And he did it. Of course it has to be there, extreme.

Some songs are fat and loud, and some are thin and quiet. There are a lot of different ways of saying a lot of different things, innit.

Train Staff, Blackpool with Out-Of-Service Sign Named Ken

 

Delivery Man Tries To Find Address; Spaghetti In Road

 

RCA Postgraduate Show And Making A Video

I am so infuriated by some political issues that I keep starting posts and abandoning them. Keep sane, keep sane...

So I have been twice to the Royal College of Art final show: once on Thursday with my Champagne Friend to see our friend Charlotte Worthington's wonderful textile hangings, and then again yesterday with Gina and her friend Nicole to... see Charlotte Worthington's wonderful textile hangings, and more of the exhibition. Second time around, I took a few photos of my favourite work.

Sandwiched between that was my youngest sibling's birthday party which took three and a half hours to get to, even though it's only about ten miles from here. Oh London, you irritating city!

And also in the sandwich was a rehearsal with Robert for Pop at the Lock, and the spontaneous video we made of Step Into England (last posting). Normally we do a selfie after our rehearsals but we were talking about the ghastly re-emergence of Mr Toad (you know who I mean), and decided to mime to our song instead. It was fun and serious, at the same time.

Step Into England

 

Singing Non-Stop

After and hour and forty-five minutes of singing (backing-lead-backing) it's time for a break. The voice is getting a little husky! I suddenly remembered last night about taking a break every 20 minutes from screen time, which hasn't been happening when I've been editing. No wonder it's been tiring.

Either today or tomorrow, I'll edit Winston's bass (he did about 5 versions) and also my new song lyric (3 takes) version. There's a peppy lead vocal to do, which probably should wait till tomorrow morning.

Man With Sledgehammer Bangs In Post

 

Bass Sorted

A long time ago I went to see a band called Bumble and the Beez; their lead singer (and bass drum and cowbell player) was Mykaell Riley, now a respected professor at the University of Westminster and one of the brains behind the current exhibition of British Black Music History at The British Library.

Their bass player was Winston Blissett, who went on to play with all sorts of people, and who is on a short break from playing with Massive Attack on their current tour. He's just been here, playing bass on one of my tracks. We had a really nice catch-up chat; we have a lot of friends in common. Apart from that he is one of the best players around, and has a signature sound and style that I can recognise when I hear him on any record. He came up trumps with beautiful playing!

That is it for guest musicians. Now, I have to do my lead vocals on a lot of the tracks, finish the words to the song with missing lyrics (I need literally three words but the right ones won't come) and record that, and then get down to final editing and mixing.

Not today! I am having a bit of a rest, then doing some drawing to wind down. It's so weird: the people playing or singing on these tracks have heard them, but not many other people have. Are the songs any good? I don't know at all. I think some of them are weird, and some of them are so ordinary they are almost middle-of-the-road songs, which makes them weird too.

The kitchen has been pretending to be a recording studio. There are grapes, pretzels and herb teas and the bathroom is spotlessly clean. What's for tea? Grapes, pretzes and herb tea, silly!

Marc Riley Plays Northbound Train By The Chefs

Marc Riley played the BBC session version of this song (link below) on his show last night. Dammit, it was one of the nights that I wasn't listening (post Covid fatigue still!) but I'll listen on catch-up later.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7828dFlQvYM

Editing

I need to stop doing this- strolling past the laptop on the kitchen table, booting it up, and editing a vocal track before going out shopping.

It feels incredibly casual, but (I think) it works. 

I'm going to have to rewrite the lyrics of a whole song which was too overtly controversial, and there is still a song which swings like a pendulum from being a shoo-in to being a disaster. I'll tackle all that next week. I need some time out: the songs are playing constantly in my head and I lie awake at night and mix them, then come down in the morning and make the changes. I'm not sure that's a good habit.

Post-viral exhaustion has almost led to a personal lockdown, and it's time to force better social interactions. The good news is- I can smell coffee!!!

https://helenmccookerybook.bandcamp.com/track/wake-up

Backing Vocals Day

Yesterday was a day to tidy up my own backing vocals (I'm so looking forward to properly mixing this!) and today, Gina's coming to add her vocals to at least two of my songs.

I'm not used to 'being a studio'. I have snacks, sweet and savoury. The bathroom is clean, the coffee and tea canisters topped up. I have a selection of microphones (some microphones can be unnerving in their detail for a singer, and you get a better performance from a simpler one: different sound, but always useable).

Later, I'm hoping Terry Edwards' trumpet contribution will show up in my inbox. 

I'm resisting the urge to do any last-minute writing or recording. Once you unleash the songwriting fairy, a whole boxful of ideas comes flying out, and that includes for recording. I'm going to put my energy into fixing the difficult song I've already recorded, which runs all over the place like liberated mink whenever I'm not paying attention.

Pigeons, keep away. I don't want any more recordings of your flapping wings and hectic panic as you try to grab the bird feeder and gorge on the seeds that rightfully belong to the Sparrow Gang!

Singing

Hooray! After weeks, I can sing well enough to record! 

I did the most difficult song this morning, and another one which I may have to re-record tomorrow. It's such a relief.

The effing pigeons were at the bird feeder, and because I was so annoyed with them, my voice changed to an angry tone when I was dropping in a line, and I won't know till tomorrow if it's perceptible or not.

Early this morning, the sparrow gang put a baby sparrow in the gutter and started to feed it. I think it must have just fledged, and they were looking after it. There are probably chirps in the background of many of the vocal tracks, and possibly the odd wheezing flap of pigeon's wings. Don't tell anyone.

I may try another song this afternoon...

How strange and exciting to think that I'm going to be able to finish this album.

How sad that Francoise Hardy has died. I'm going to listen to her music this afternoon as well. She had a beautiful voice, and a beautiful songwriter's gift.

Legs On Tube Train (Seated)

 

Stash Of Chefs Stuff

James brought these round this morning

The Summer Ahead

Life continues to surprise...

I'll be playing at Scaledown at the end of this month.

I'll be playing at Pop at the Lock with Robert.

I'll be interviewing Palmolive in Porto at the KISMIF conference, and also running a one hour collaborative political songwriting session. Now that's going to be a challenge to rise to!

At Rebellion in Blackpool, I'll be interviewing Palmolive, Pauline Murray and Paul Eccentric.

I'll be playing in the Wylam Institute, in the very same room that I used to attend Girl Guides in.

Then I'm headed to Ullapool to play at the Argyll Hotel.

I'll be finishing my album this month.

The Chefs vinyl will be coming out soon.

We have a Pop-Up Chefs EP to release: will we DIY it? Who knows...

I have been contributing vocal arrangements to Gina's next album.

I have a track by The Assistants to do a mix of.

I am doing an illustration for Laura Whitfield's book of poetry.

Good job I had a very lazy day today!

Sunday, After A Gig

The pre-gig chat with Rory Macleod and his friends was a pleasure; we talked about travelling, and he told me about his partner's love of bees. We talked about Glaswegian parents, and our children, and all sorts of other things.

Still fatigued from post-viral Covid stuff, it had been all I could do to walk up the steep Lewes hill to the club. Fortified by some of Rory's chips, my muscles reconnected to their nerve-endings and once my guitar was on, the gig was on too.

Folk music audiences are a big change for me; they were seated at tables, but thankfully, smiling and very receptive. Shelley and Phil came along as my guests, and I hope they enjoyed the evening. It was one of those nights that I knew I could sing At The Bathing Pond and have people join in, and join in they did, with gusto. I can't explain how much support acts like me appreciate the audience turning up and listening. I also knew they were taking in the lyrics, because there were laughs at the funny bits, even the hidden sly ones that people often miss. Thank you!

Then Rory went into the crowd with his harmonica and serenaded people one-by-one; he's a proper entertainer, and they loved every bit of it. I saw his first song before tumbling down the hill to the station and coming home; we'll both be at Rebellion and I'll see his set there. I had apologised in advance for my feebleness, and he was very gracious about it. Normally one of the greatest pleasures of playing live is watching the other artists and enjoying (and learning) from them.

Hats off to the promoter Seth for picking up Fozzy's gigs and running with them. That's a brave thing to do when you're in mourning for  a mate, but he did it.

Today, there is a glimmer of normality in my physical and mental state. I'd been hoping to go to Lambeth County Show but the thought of the crowds is terrifying. Instead, I'm sitting in front of the TV and the Come Dine With Me Omnibus with a bag of crisps. Outside there's a solo blue-tit, alternately eating a seed and tweeting about it [sorry!]. It's utterly charming.

Tomorrow, back to recording and, I hope, back to strength. The crisps will help, I know it.

Con Club, Lewes, Tonight

I'll be heading to Lewes later on to support Rory Macleod in a reprise of a gig that I did with him about 5 years ago. Very sadly Fozzy who originally booked that gig suddenly died a few months ago. He was a thoroughly decent bloke and was respected by everyone in the live music industry who knew him. He was perceptive, too, and I will never forget the conversation that I had with him before the gig last time. Sometimes, the most down-to-earth people can be the most honest and compassionate ones. 

Three cheers for people like Fozzy!

Rory is a vibrant and varied showman and played a great gig last time- we also had a really nice chat before the gig and I'm looking forward to catching up with him.

I'm still in a state of slow recovery from Covid, which I picked up when I went into hospital for a biopsy. It's left me exhausted and with no sense of taste and smell (although I could smell the dusters that went on fire after one of the Offsprogs left a gas ring on yesterday). I managed last Saturday's gig OK, and tonight will be the same- I know I'll just have to sleep a lot tomorrow! I went to bed at nine yesterday and spent my fitful night's 'rest' mixing my album in my head, which was actually quite good fun. I do know the tracks backwards by now, and I'll send a track to Terry Edwards next week for the trumpet part to be played on it. I might even attempt a lead vocal or two on Wednesday.

Anyway, nearly time to get ready...

It's Summer, I Believe

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

Woman Plays Bass In Busking Band, Newcastle Upon Tyne

 

Recording In The Kitchen

 

Back To the LP

Today's job was to put Robert's rhythm guitar strums into another of the two songs he's playing on. I'm waiting for a Hawaiian Steel part from Jack Hayter, and I need to sing Terry Edwards' trumpet part on to a track for him. Then it's some backing vocals from Gina (yay!) and some bass from Winston Blissett- then my lead vocals on most of the tracks, and some tidier backing vocals to replace the raggedy demos. 

I have a title, and an idea for the cover. I think it will all be done by the end of June, so long as there are no weird mixing blips, because I've kind of been mixing it as I go along; this involves booting up the computer every time I walk past the kitchen table, having a listen to a track and making volume and panning adjustments until everything sounds better. My aim is to make the sounds speak to each other in different ways, not always distinct and contrasting; a blend sometimes works really well. Every time you add an instrument, the whole thing recalibrates itself. "Now I do need bass guitar, even though I didn't before'. 'Now that guitar part needs to be an octave lower'. It's the best sort of puzzle, especially when you unexpectedly do something right and the sound of the whole track changes just because of one tiny adjustment.

I haven't played the songs to many people. Nobody has heard the whole thing yet. I want the opinions to come from the music before they come from listeners. I know that's weird but it feels as though the songs tell me what they want, and it seems churlish to override that with anything a human says... just yet!

Next Gig: Lewes Con Club on Saturday

 Tickets here: https://www.seetickets.com/event/rory-mcleod/lewes-con-club/2924477

Rochester Rams Micro Brewery

Almost three weeks ago I picked up a nasty bug when I went to have a biopsy in a local hospital. I have been on Planet Weirdo for what seems like a very long time, too exhausted even to go out for a walk. But there was no way I was going to miss this lovely night in the bijou environs of the Ram's Microbrewery in Rochester.

Calm through every storm, Kevin has been promoting bands for a long time, both through the pandemic when his online Mr Unswitchable Saturday nights were a lifesaver, through the bi-monthly club Scaledown in London, and through various events in his native Rochester.

Rochester is a secret jewel in Kent's crown; it has a spectacular castle and bridge, a gorgeous view across the river, and a hearty normality to its citizens that is a breath of fresh air in these untrustworthy and facile times. It even has a seaside fox (or a riverside fox).

With assistance to carry my guitar, it really wasn't as daunting in reality as it had seemed in my addled imagination. The pre-gig bantz was superb: the smugness at the heart of Kevin's workplace, slugs, books, hymns, you name it, we talked about it.

Ruth cousin Sally turned up and we talked about lawn mowers and her friend and erstwhile Helen and the Horns fan Alan Bird-Book. And there was Robert and Judith too! What a lovely surprise!

Rachel Lowrie's set was sublime; she has a lovely, open personality and a voice to go with it. Apparently she sings in a folk band, and her voice has that assurance in it, but is also much more mellow and fresh than some of the harder-edged female folk voices. She sang of hills and the countryside and transported the audience to the places she sang about. Wonderful!

I'd decided that it was a Rickenbacker night (I needed the colour) and oddly, despite the health circumstances (and very cold fingers for the first few songs), felt very much at ease with the audience. They forgave me the most appalling onstage banter faux-pas, and for an encore I wheeled out Women of the World, which I've only just started singing regularly. How odd that the high notes were so easy to sing with a compromised system. 

Everyone under the age of 25 was out carousing in the High Street when we made our way back to the station, including some rather merry Spanish chaps, one of whom rummaged through the rubbish bin on the train platform looking for food. I should have given him the slimy quiche that I found in the bottom of my bag and forgot to eat earlier in the evening.

Anyway, I'm bloody glad that I got off the miserable sofa and did it. Charming venue, charming audience, lovely evening!

Woman Photographs Chow In Park

 

Police Officer And Girl On Bus

 

Next Gig- Saturday in Rochester, Kent

 

Magic Margaux

The Margaux video has been magicked up! Here is is in technicolour or something similar.

I've had a few days out, organising session musicians for my album and other stuff like that. And doing a lot, a lot of editing of the tracks. I think I have settled on twelve songs new- one of them is being a beast and won't play. There is a possible wild card idea, but let's see how the rest of it falls into shape. Robert did some great playing and singing last week, remotely. 

Steve, Street Cleaner, Newcastle upon Tyne

 

In between gigs in Newcastle and Glasgow, I stayed in a bloody freezing youth hostel in Newcastle. In a situation like that, you don't stay in your room and freeze: you get out and find any sort of warmth you can.  Before Blake's even opened for breakfast, I was walking down a frosty side street and I came across Steve, who was resplendent in his turquoise uniform, cheeks rosy from the cold. We had a good chat; he has been in the army, and done all sort of other jobs. I asked if I could take a photo so I could draw his portrait, and he was very happy to do so.

In 60 minutes, I couldn't really do justice to the colours in his uniform and I knew I'd not have time to draw his trolley. I wanted detail, after yesterday's drawing which was hard to do because of the lack of detail in the original photo. I'm still a little bit under the weather, but concentrating on Steve's face was therapeutic, as were the memories of our conversation. I hope he is well and still cleaning our streets. The people who do these jobs are the most important people in the world, much more so than bankers who puff about as though they own the world. The latter would not have the patience and drive to do a job like this. Anyone can be a greedy-guts, but not many people have the resilience to be out on the streets at the crack of dawn making everything beautiful for us all.

Megan Davies of The Applejacks

 

I almost didn't draw last night, but it's such a nice thing to do. On goes BBC Radio 6 at 9 p.m. and out come the crayons, and a spontaneous decision is made about what I draw. This is from a photo I took of the TV when The Applejacks were featured on a TV show about 1960s beat combos. Gideon Coe played an eclectic set of tracks including Buzzcocks, U-Roy and The Girls With The Replaceable Head.

Most drawings take and hour but this one took 50 minutes, hence the lack of detail. I ran out of steam!

Racing

This is what it is like in the land of independent record labels.

I took the test pressings down to James's house and we listened on his portable record player: tinny but true. It just wouldn't connect to his bluetooth speaker, but we were able to hear that sides two, three and four were fine, but side one had a distinctive crackle that ran through the whole side. 

I contacted Damaged Goods, and Ian had a listen and could hear it too. So that's a dodgy side of a test pressing to be sorted out. I kind of panicked about the actual sound of the whole thing and quickly texted Gina to ask if I could listen to just part of a track on Mike's Rega record player. I had to get there before five and raced all the way from Honor Oak Park to Tufnell Park, with all the train destinations going against me. Calm, calm, calm... I got there in the nick of time and managed to have a quick listen. It sounded fabulous. Lee at Yuba Studios has done a fine job of disentangling the sounds from the wash of reverb that we mistakenly polished everything with, and you can hear the individual instruments really clearly. How hard we worked to get our songs sounding good! I'd had misgivings about resurrecting this album, but I think it's going to be something to be really proud of.

Simultaneously, Ian was finishing off the cover, which looks great, and we have approved that too.

I may need to spend the day in bed tomorrow. 

Although I may not... Robert has agreed to play guitar on one of my solo album tracks, Lester Square turned in an amazing guitar part the other day, Terry Edwards will play trumpet, and Winston Blissett is going to play bass on one of them. I spent a lot of time editing last week; I was indisposed and sitting still and fiddling about with note lengths and positions was just right. I re-played one song entirely, and decided to float off from the click track and just let it fly.

The Logic program has started behaving oddly, so I'll be making safety copies tomorrow. I have my trusty acoustic guitar to try out a sound with, and then I may do some bass parts.

It's so odd: the songs start to crystallise out suddenly after giving the appearance that they are not going to work. It's often just one tiny little recalibration, and the whole thing falls into place.

Yesterday, I had a day off. It was the vintage car parade through town, which I missed because I forgot about it. However, the cars were on display on the rooftop car park of the shopping centre. I fell in love with an Austin Healey. I think I need to start doing the lottery again.