Lead-Eater

This picture is from Dave Peacock's Facebook album.
He has loads of photos of Brighton punk bands in their earliest forms- the Piranhas and Joby and the Hooligans in particular. This must have been at the end of the gig- I'm saving the set-list and I've stuck the guitar lead in my mouth to stop it from dragging on the floor. The suit belonged to the boyfriend at the time who had a matching guitar: cream with white scratchplate. It was a joke- a total coincidence that we managed to find two guitars the same in second hand shops in Brighton.
A bit later on I hit on the wheeze of writing the set-list in black felt pen on a strip of masking tape and taping it along the top of the body of the guitar. We always used to play the songs in the same order so I never had to change it.
My small plaits were coloured blue with crazy-colour. Because my hair was curly I didn't feel like a proper punk until my tutor at art college patted me on the head one day after he 'advised' me not to be a punk rocker any more and just settle down and get on with my work. I was so annoyed that I cut my hair off to about an inch all over, bleached it blonde and started to look quite tough. I can't work out which venue this was; I don't remember playing any venues that were posh enough to have curtains, and it seems as though there is a monitor there too and that's quite fancy for a gig back then. I wonder if it was Canterbury University? Joby tried to nick the telly from the Students' Union (he was a naughty chap) but I think it was chained on to its stand. We took the Piranhas there with us, I think.

Green Cake

This is the cake I made for McSis's birthday- chocolate, supposedly with green peppermint icing ('tastes like toothpaste' says her youngest son) but I couldn't find the peppermint essence so I used vanilla instead. It looked good with green and white candles; so many, it must be said at the the risk of exposing the fact that McSis is (like me) unfeasibly old, that I had to hold the cake at arms length as I paraded it into the room in case I singed myself.
Brother Tobias was there with his charming family; he is the funniest blogger on earth but has been taking a six month sabbatical due to the acquisition of a new dog. It was a cheery do, with assorted teenagers popping out to the yard for a fag and their dazed-looking parents thinking about the future with empty nests, no piles of unwashed socks and unlimited access to the bathroom.
Tomorrow I'm off to the quacks to see if I have glandular fever. I have been utterly knackered ever since I had 'flu, even when I'm not doing anything knackering, and it's horrible cancelling gigs for that reason especially since it is the gigs that keep me on an even keel. It's just about a year since I moved here and I love this house and I am happy in a lot of ways but the anniversary of moving itself is not happy at all, because selling up and moving was so awful: the old house had become like a prison and and it seemed to be thwarting any attempt to get out, move on, and start afresh. It's still unbearable going to the storage place where my albums and boxes of papers are (ILEA Childrens' Musical lyrics and scores, anyone?). Playing live is life-affirming and is a perfect antidote the the gloomy thoughts associated with all this.
The date is soon to pass, and I will celebrate that with candles and crisps (salt and vinegar of course).
Martin is very busy with gigs all up and down the country; he passed through London on Friday and we managed to see each other and play a few chords in passing; I found that I am able to accompany his ragtime pickin'. Learning how to play the Chefs songs has tidied up my style. I am going to Dublin to play a few songs at The Daintees' show in Whelans on November 12th so I'm revving the rusty voice up as we speak.

Kitchen Floor

I am having some lino put on the kitchen floor. The flooring guy is humming along to Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick- you know, that song with no melody.

Graffiti by Roa

I went to a meeting at The Premises studio in Hackney on Wednesday. It's an eco-studio that uses solar power in the main studio, and has beehives on the roof.
The Belgian graffiti artist Roa has been beautifying scruffy bare walls in Hackney with his extraordinary animal paintings, one of which decorates the side of the studio building. The council has told them to remove it (the rabbit, below), much to their consternation. If they don't the council will paint over it and send them the bill. The beaver is in a nearby car park.
There is an article in the Guardian about it here: ROA's graffiti rabbit faces removal by Hackney council
A petition has started up, which now has 1000 signatures.

Up-er

Sorry about the mini-break; I needed to collect my thoughts for a while after a big bounce downwards, but the upwards bounce has started.
I won't moan about stuff!

Some ups...
I have just written to the BBC to get a license to make a Chefs compilation. I am not sure exactly what will be on it and some of that involves money things which as everyone knows, are difficult at the moment. But it will happen.

The book has come back from being scanned (although unfortunately I have been given someone else's managing/teaching workload to do which I didn't feel I could refuse due to impending cuts, which means I'm working full time at the moment)

There are some nice illustration projects in the pipeline for later in the year/early next year. Roberto Cassani is planning a childrens' songbook and has asked me to illustrate it, and The Gluts have challenged me to an online graphic song-story duel, Arctic Roll (theirs) versus Baked Alaska (mine) to be published at Christmas.

The illustration below has gone back to the drawing board, as I've been asked for a detailed explanation which I don't want to give because art is 'open', but I can understand why: academic writing is 'closed' because it needs to prove things (after asking questions, of course).

I have started to send the CD out for review. It is laborious but also fun, because if the DIY task involved. It feels direct, like a little dig at the big guys!

Now where's that guitar? I need to write songs: that's the surest way to change the mood!

There are lots of blogs and e-conversations about Ari's illness, death and the inspiration she was. 
I have realised that because I knew her (later rather than earlier) my memories are almost domestic and probably best kept private for now. 
I do join all of the people who knew her in a feeling of overwhelming grief about what has happened.

Post Rest

Not having a nice time at the moment. Excuse my sabbatical. Back soon.

Corporate Cups Welcome You

Deleted Postings

I have taken down some recent postings about Ari Up; thank you to those people who left comments, they were read and appreciated.

La Lectrice Gourmande

This story is for a US publication. They may need a disclaimer.
Oh, it's horrible: one of my students this year is writing a thesis about the glamour of dying young and how it affects the myth and marketability of rock musicians. What awful irony.

My Hand

I have always written on the back of my hand, all the time: layers and layers of writing, especially when I am busy and over-stimulated.
I then transfer the contents to scraps of paper, which then kick about on my desk until I do something about them- transferring them to a notebook, acting on them, or simply throwing them away (my favourite).
Here are what today's handy scribblings are about:

Rob, the MD of Voiceprint, promised to drop off some Poetry and Rhyme CDs yesterday. I hadn't got any left to sell at gigs. He texted to say he might be late, and suggested he should drop them off later in the week instead.
I told Offsprog 2 not to worry about answering the door, and went to bed. Next morning, there was a pile of CDs and a half-box full in the house. Apparently he'd started posting them through the letterbox one by one very late at night when she was watching the late film on TV so she'd opened the door and taken them in from him!

The scan of The Lost Women of Rock Music has arrived. This reminded me that the subject librarian at the University of the East told me on Thursday that the University Library copy has been stolen. How mean!
There are three copies in the University bookshop. Will anyone be able to afford them?

I am trying to find out the name of the girl group who made tracks using the iPhone app Multimedia Groovemaker. Who were they?

There is a cosmetic dentist in New Barnet called Mona Lisa Smile. Do their patients realise that Mona Lisa smiled like that because her teeth were in an appalling state and she needed to keep her mouth closed? Is this what they are promising to their unsuspecting clients?

I heard that years ago, the band Madness used to go to see Brighton band the Piranhas regularly in London and beg their manager for a support gig, which he would never allow them to do. If you listen to the Piranhas early material and Madness's early output, you can hear a definite similarity and influence there.

Are London's bendy buses the equivalent of stretch limos but for poor people?

And so on, and so on....

Boy Racer

'Wheeee!' I thought as I whizzed down the gradient on the M25 in my small but perfectly formed car, the road clear for miles ahead and the Autumn sunshine lighting up the Essex countryside.
Was that immature of me?

Rant Warning: This Posting May Damage Your Health

Well, I suppose I'm wondering when I'm going to lose my job.
Not being a Science, Mathematics or Business lecturer, the fees for potential students on the courses I teach on are going to rocket.
Some young people will decide not to be educated in particular ways, the ways that teach them to question what is around them and try to make things more interesting. We call it culture.
Yesterday I did a lecture for students at the University of the West about technology bias; men tend to operate machinery: a 'skill', and women not: an unskill. And this causes a difference in their earning power.
Angela McRobbie notices this in pop music; of course there a lots of very rich and famous female vocalists, but at grassroots level they are often seen as disposable and replaceable 'unskilled workers'.
Really, I was talking to the students about how I would go about researching a presentation about hip hop producers and the women who sing on the recordings.
And remember Amy Winehouse texting Mark Ronson?
It's common for women to walk into a studio with a song they have written, and the (male) producer makes a backing track for it because he has technical knowhow that she doesn't, and then claims half the song-writing royalty.
Of course, this can happen to men too.
But a student of mine around ten years ago did a fantastic piece of research called Why Men Twiddle Knobs and Women Don't that involved finding out what male and female students learned about music technology in their schools. I do not have to tell you the results.
'We need you', whispered a female student on the way out of my lecture. There had been a lot of grumpy-young-man challenging during the talk, and I don't think anyone had yet articulated to her the unwritten and unchallenged rules of music production.
It's not just me they need, of course. I think every young adult should be educated beyond school: I value Science (McDad was a scientist), Maths and Business, but there need to be people who are educated in other disciplines for society to 'work' properly. There is something sinister in those who place no value on the imagination.
In the 1980s when the Tories were up to their tricks, their activities seemed like an attempt to emulate the school history-book Middle Ages when merchants traded across the seas, nobles sat in their castles counting their doubloons, and serfs scurried about being paid groats for doing everything else that the others couldn't be bothered to do.
So for the second time in my life, I contemplate becoming a cleaner.
Are the smug toffs at the top blaming the bankers, who caused this financial meltdown?
Nope, they have scarcely been mentioned!

Sir Alex Ferguson

Misheard While Listening To News Item About Wayne Rooney Leaving Manchester United

Ceramics furnace on.

Cowgirls

My friend from North Carolina, Daniel Coston, is a brilliant rock photographer and took some really good photos of myself and Martin a while ago. He uses real cameras and photographs real people and makes them look real, an increasingly rare skill. http://www.danielcostonphotography.com/
He is also a writer and historian  and a big Carter Family fan (and also a Zombies fan!).
A week or so again he sent me this link to a site where I am quoting Holly George-Warren talking about Maybelle Carter's style (in my context I was taking issue with Chrissie Hynde's comment that there had been no female guitarist innovators with the impact of someone like Hendrix; actually, I would now add K T Tunstall's loopmaster {loopmistress?} skills to Carter's):
http://www.bluegrass-museum.org/general/zbioMaybelleCarter.php
Holly has the most amazing CV and has just brought out a book about cowgirls which looks absolutely essential for anyone with Wild West daydreams:
http://www.hollygeorgewarren.com/events.htm
She has also written a lot of other interesting stuff about music as well as curating Western Wear shows and putting together compilation albums of female- generated music. A very interesting woman, with a natty line in cowboy shirts!