The Cords and Sassyhiya at The Betsey Trotwood

I heard The Cords on Riley and Coe's BBC6 radio show, and that's always a good omen for seeing music live. I didn't realise that Sassyhiya would also be playing, so the night out was two for the price of one. It had been a tiring week, but everyone who plays live gigs knows that there is no life in gigging unless you can also be in an audience listening to other bands.

Both bands are signed to Kent label Skep Wax, a label set up by Heavenly's Rob Pursey and Amelia Fletcher.

Sassyhiya are an unpretentious group image-wise, looking like a group of friends you might meet in a café anywhere in the UK. This in itself is quite an appealing image, almost as though a collection of musicians from the open mic circuit have collided together like a bunch of asteroids and created a mini-explosion of creativity. I only know one name- their bass player Helen- because we agreed that it is a fantastic name. But I'm not a reviewer, I'm a gig-going musician, so I'm excusing myself from details for the day. 

What is important is the music, and I absolutely loved their set, especially the new songs. Their drummer is excellent, scooping up the music into neat, punchy sections with a lot of imagination and skill. All of them, though, fit their respective instruments together like a complex yet very catchy jigsaw; the bass underpins the songs with riffs tailored to the different flavours of music; the rhythm guitar is steady and the lead guitar plays just enough catchy little runs to catch the ear and make you smile. The lead vocals are almost delivered deadpan live, but that just adds to the fact that the band are (oddly) serious songwriters. Some of their early songs belie this, but especially with their new songs you could hear the thrill they have in their creativity: 'Shall we try this? Yes! It works!'. I found this inspirational. I'm just about to start writing songs again, jumping into the sea of ideas, and it was lovely to see a band who quite obviously enjoy the journey of discovery as much as anything else. And as much as me! Go to see them- I know you will enjoy them.

The headline band was The Cords, who more than delivered on their promise (sorry for using the word 'deliver'). Loud, fast and relentless, they played pop-punk in the manner of The Ramones, again with a deadpan delivery: song title, song, quiet thank-you, song title, song, quiet thank-you, for 45 solid minutes. Their set was almost a continuous piece of music apart from a broken string incident, which was prepared for (I have one here that I prepared earlier), because thrashing a guitar like this is bound to break a string. But each short, punchy song was distinctive within its style, variations on a theme exploring just exactly how much you can do with guitar, drums and one vocal. The singer has a strong, strong voice with absolutely no frills and curlicues; it's absolutely great to hear a vocalist singing in a voice that is in effect their speaking voice, except singing. I love this. It's a major thing as far as I'm concerned that singers sound like themselves, and not like whatever machine is processing vocals at any particular point in time. Not once during the entire set did her voice falter, nor hers nor the drummer's energy levels decrease. They are Duracell musicians, with the same intensity at the end of the set as at the beginning. And did it bother them, the over-50s maleness of the audience? Who knows? We are all grateful that people come out to see us, whoever we are and whoever they are. There's a surprisingly big world out there for independent and DIY musicians. 

They had already played Rough Trade West that afternoon and they were going on to do a session for John Kennedy after this gig. What stamina! I felt protective of them, because the music industry is a terrible beast with multiple sets of fangs. How patronising though: we all have to live our lives the way they pan out, good, bad, dangerous and exciting in equal measure. The music industry is something you dive into; it's like swimming across a sea and negotiating not only the shipping lanes but also the stinging jellyfish, copious effluent, and not even really knowing what your destination is a lot of the time. The prizes that show up are not from the competitions you entered (or sometimes, did not enter). 

Before he died, my brother asked me a question that had clearly been bugging him for a while. 'What makes you carry on doing it?'. 'I don't know', I said, 'I am driven'. Afterwards, I realised that it's curiosity. What will come out next, and how will it appear? The genie of ideas never rests, and that is something that was apparent with both of Saturday's bands: an absolute revelling in ideas and what can be created by the 'tools of rock' a million miles away from the stadium and the Big Boy hustlers. Oh the joy of small corners on a Saturday night!

Next Gig: Brighton with Rachel Love and the Loveables

Tickets here: https://wegottickets.com/event/673409

A Rock and Roll Week: Essential Logic and Gina Birch and the Unreasonables

Actually, that's completely wrong: rock and roll is a men's music label, and the punk-rooted music I'm going to be writing about owes little to standardised rock anyway. I think it's just that it feels as though that's what happened this week, according to my body and head!

Tuesday night at The Lexington was Essential Logic's triumphant return to London after what sounded like an amazing gig at the Paris Popfest. The whole night had been assembled with great care. DJ for the night was Estella Adeyeri, who in another guise sings and plays bass as part of Big Joanie. Her selection of tracks was perfect for the night and included Mind Your Own Business, an all-time favourite that is easy to overlook in the cacophony of great post-punk singles.

The first support act was The Exotic Pets, who had travelled from Birmingham for the gig. They were loud, confident and committed, and reminded me of The Ocees not only in their delivery, but also in their sound- and their ability to change mood mid-set and play a song that was much more contemplative than their more in-yer-face songs before returning to those more dynamic ones. Great music!

We were on next, and with Wing Commander Ruth Tidmarsh on bass and Wing Commander Robert Rotifer on guitar, it felt like a good chance to play the most political songs that I've written, including The Sea, a necessary dig at the fool politicians who stir hatred in people's hearts just for the craic. Ugh. I think we did a good set and it's always good to have the harmonies and the drive from Ruth and Robert.

Essential Logic have their own 'world' that they bring with them, a world of sound (oh, the interplay between Lora's sax and Marley's vocals!) driven along this night by pre-recorded drums and original member Phil Legge's thrashing guitar, the whole bound together by Lora's serenity. It was an utterly absorbing performance, impossible to look away from. Little Bruv had come along, and he remarked just how unexpectedly punk a sax is, and how natural it seems once you hear it. They finished with a blistering rendition of Oh Bondage, Up Yours!. Lora said it was just as good as Paris- which was great to hear. And the stars in the audience! Gina Birch (Raincoats), Lester Square (Monochrome Set), Lesley Woods (Au Pairs) and more.

The next night was Gina Birch and the Unreasonables at the 100 Club. They were supported by Taliable, who wore a mask and a ruff and who reminded me of one of my puppet people! They had a chap on decks and beats, and they were very LOUD but also very funny and friendly- they're a very good performer and we had a laugh in the dressing room afterwards as well.

Vanessa from Doc'n'Roll was projecting videos for Gina's set, and the three coloured crayons (orange, yellow and mauve) set off on their musical journey to an audience who were well up of it from the beginning. In the distance I spotted Lucy O'Brien, Nadia Buyse, Gemma Freeman, Kat Five (actually, I talked to those two!), my artist friend Charlotte Worthington and more, and more. This time I managed to get all the backing vocals right and had a good old sing. They went down a storm.

I love the defiance of this: pulling away from punk's sticky mud and making our lives into a new musical adventure. The template was there and the spirit is there, but this is new music from all of us, wherever we are on the scale of public profile or mediated success. The success is in still having ideas and still having the guts to go out there and share them. 

Long may we, our ideas, and our music reign!

Steel Pan Player, The Melodians, Trafalgar Square

 

Margaux The Puppet Says 'Come To the Lexington On Tuesday Evening!'

We'll be playing this on Tuesday as part of our set supporting Essential Logic

Tickets here: https://www.axs.com/uk/events/974996/essential-logic-tickets

Real us, not Margaux the flying puppet! 

Two Men Stuff A Giant Panda With Expanded Polystyrene In Soho Last Week

 

Rehearsal Etc.

Boodlee boodlee boo! We had a great rehearsal yesterday, Ruth and Robert and me: four hours of playing, yakking and eating. We worked out Women of the World and The Sea to play next Tuesday, mainly because they are political songs and therefore extremely necessary at the moment. I am so happy with what they bring to my songs. They are both empathetic musicians who listen to the feel of the music and the meaning of the words. And at the end of the rehearsal, Ruth cut the extra branches off my tree and we bundled them up to go off to the tip!

Meanwhile, I've just recorded a vocal demo of Cailin Morun Sa and sent it to Willie G. I was stumped about adding that extra thing to it. The pitch of the song is low for me as a vocalist but I can sing in that range comfortably now the big obstacle has been removed from my lung, but it sounded unfinished until I put an instant harmony on it. That's just gone off for feedback and I may be able to do a bit more work on it tomorrow if he likes it.

I've got to learn the words of Sixties Guy from my album so we can finish the video this weekend. I've never played the song live and so I don't know the words yet. However, on January 15th we'll be doing another 'everybody' gig in London and we'll play the song then. More on that later.

No drawings of people yet this week. I've started going to life-drawing classes again and I'm comfortably hopeless at it. Once I get back into the groove of that, I'll start the little drawings again. I have some corkers of photographs to draw!

A Week to Go: Essential Logic at the Lexington

Tickets here! https://www.axs.com/uk/events/974996/essential-logic-tickets

Gideon Coe Played Autumn Rendezvous Last Night

He played Essential Logic before us, and the wonderful Hollie Cook afterwards, with The Rezillos and The Lovely Basement later on too.

Here's a ticket link to the show at the Lexington with Essential Logic: https://www.axs.com/uk/events/974996/essential-logic-tickets

Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2wzQoJBOFZE

Spreading Asphalt

 

Cheerful Sheep

 

The Sex Pistols Are Good For Business

I've bene looking for some lost important documents and I haven't found them. I did however find lots of letters that I wrote to McMum and McDad. This is from when I worked in a shop, probably 1977 or 1978. Same one that I used to write to John Peel from.

May Day Banners, The Other Year

Look, I know I got the perspective wrong!

Raincoats Book Launch

On Saturday we went to the launch of Shouting Out Loud, Audrey Golden's biography of The Raincoats. It was a well-attended and warm-hearted event, with lots of pals: Caryne and Dave, Nadya Buyse, Dick O'Dell, Marie from The Unreasonables and many more.

From the stage Gina, Ana and Shirley told us stories of their getting-together and in particular, their visit to Poland which happened by accident when they played support to a theatre group in west London who were supposed to be going there: the promoter preferred The Raincoats! They talked about the early days of Rough Trade, and there was a particularly moving moment when Ana thanked Audrey for her meticulous research (including reading 500 fan letters and following up an Irish prisoner who'd written to them back in the day). What Audrey has done is show the band themselves the impact that they have had on people, and the unique (sorry) journey they have had through the music industry and indeed their lives. Gina's stories were particularly entertaining.

While they spoke, you could hear how different Gina and Ana are from each other, and you could see how the music worked as a distillation of the personalities of two women who wield their power in entirely different ways. It was a very interesting insight.

At the end, they sang Fairytale in the Supermarket acappella, joined by many members of the audience.

What a lovely night.

Step Into England by McCookerybook & Rotifer

McCookerybook & Rotifer
Song about what happens when you arrive as a refugee
https://mccookerybookandrotifer.bandcamp.com/track/step-into-england

A Protest Song Dressed Up All Fancy

https://helenmcc.bandcamp.com/track/three-cheers-for-toytown

Monster Hand Abandoned on Pavement

 

In The Morning

In the morning, I put seeds out for the birds and then I put food for thought out on social media. 

I'm not sure which is the most hungry!

A Researcher's Epiphany

I woke far too early this morning, but that sometimes happens and it doesn't bother me. I like to lie there and think about things, tidy the large cupboard in my head, make peace with my memories and mull over ideas.

This morning I was remembering an uncomfortable occasion that must have been following me like a thread, or an inverted trail of Hansel and Gretel pebbles, for much of my life. As a family we attended Jesmond Presbyterian Church which was in a chic, at that time student-y part of Newcastle. McMum and McDad had lived in Jesmond when they were newly married, and there was no Presbyterian church in the village where we lived, or nearby actually. So on Sundays we put on our Sunday best and piled into the car for the 25 minute drive into town. 

The church was big, grand and empty. Presbyterianism involves a lot of telling off. My brother and me would sit and be told off by the minister along with the rest of the congregation before, with the other children, heading off to Sunday School in a room at the back of the church, while the grown-ups got told off by the sermon, long form. The little girls went out first, followed by the boys. 

Once, as a protest against being forced to wear a kilt, Bruv went out with the girls. 'But I'm wearing a skirt!', he argued when he was (yes) told off about it later. Maybe that's something that should be put in a gender critical pipe and smoked.

When you were primary school age, Sunday School wasn't too bad. There was a jolly, if strict, chap who once told us a wonderful story about a blended animal called a Camelephantelopelicanary. I can't remember the point of the story, just the name of the animal, but it was quite a remarkable concept and an interesting approach to religion.

The parents would come to find us after their part of the service, and one day they said 'Mr McVitie has asked if he can make a recording of you singing'. 'No', I said. 

Mr McVitie was one of those men who looks old even when they are young: it was partly to do with the way he dressed. He wore black pin-striped trousers and a matching funeral-black waistcoat and jacket. He was portly and he wore wire rimmed spectacles with indistinct eyes behind them, and on his feet, exceptionally shiny black shoes. He had a round, unexpressive face, with a crisply-cut bristly sandy-grey moustache (or maybe he didn't?) and disconcertingly pink marshmallow-like lips (he definitely did). Yes, he was very pink.

'No', I said. But little children my age weren't allowed to say no. I stood frozen with distaste in my Sunday-best dress. He stood at a respectful (ha!) distance with his portable cassette recorder in one hand and the small microphone extended in the other, his arm outstretched towards me pointing it at my wavery little voice. In his eyes was a look of neediness that was utterly disconcerting. He was taking something from me: my littleness, my vulnerability, trying to capture my innocence in a not very innocent way. I could feel the imbalance of power, the sense of being ganged up against by adults and made to do something against my will.

At the end of the recording, triumphant, he withdrew his extended arm, thanked my parents and everyone went home for Sunday lunch.

And then, so much later, I spent years and years writing and researching a book about the capture of women's voices in recording studios by men, and the control of the way they sound and communicate. Do you think these factors could be related?

https://www.equinoxpub.com/home/shes-at-the-controls/

The drawing isn't a very accurate portrait of either of us! Years later, he came to McSis's wedding and blanked me. I did say hello anyway, and noticed one very, very long strand of white hair growing out of the bridge of his nose: an external conscience, perhaps.

Dressed Up For A Wedding

 

All Over The Place

The past couple of days, I've been all over the place, mainly in conversation. On the way to meet an academic from the US in real life, I discovered the guitar shop in Greenwich Market, Tom's Guitar Shop. Tom was there playing guitar, and I played a couple of guitars from the display and chatted with him for a bit. I may well send him photos of the guitars I'm planning to sell because he's a little less jaded than some of the guitar shop chaps that I've come across. There's still a lot of sexism in those places; female money is obviously worth a lot less than male money. Further in the future this fact will be ridiculed, I sincerely hope.

The conversation over coffee was intense; oh how I've missed the academic world that is nothing to do with management, spreadsheets and all that blah. The conference community was fascinating, even with its competitiveness, tripping-up and (yes) misogyny. The worst male academics were the ones who declared themselves to be feminist, and thought that was all they had to do. Ha ha! Just try reporting a sexual assault by their favourite male student and see how that plays out!

Somehow I managed to walk more than six miles, chewing over the food for thought. And today, my friend Joan came for a walk and a forage through the charity shops, and there is now yet more food for thought.

I have so many ideas for songs that I feel overloaded. Could this be called a 'Constipation of Ideas'? I'm not sure... I have a pristine book to start writing them in, having abandoned my phone notes after Facebook spied on them and started pushing 'Facebook Washing Line Groups' when I was in Scotland and made a note about colour-coded washing on a line outside Rothesay a few weeks ago.

My handwriting leaves a lot to be desired, but even that has sometimes created some very interesting lyrics as I've misread what was written on the back of my hand, for instance.

It was an unexpected pleasure to see Emily Kam Kngwarray's paintings at Tate Modern last week. They are beautiful maps of thought and movement, sometimes layered with repeat visits, stopping and starting, turning and thinking. Aboriginal paintings seem to be a historical precursor to Situationism, and this fascinated me: the here and now, measuring by walking and looking and making precise marks.

 It's great to simultaneously not understand a language but to feel respect for what it's saying and the way it speaks. There is something humanly empowering about them, and about their direct communication, that dwarfs the morass of stupidity that we're whirling around in at the moment. Where are the adults? Did everyone's maturity stop developing when they were toddlers? Kngwarray is a duchess of dignity and patience. What a relief to come across such great art.