Sandie Shaw

McDad used to buy the records in our house; he was a fan of everything from Leapy Lee to Melanie, by way of Herb Alpert, Gilbert O'Sullivan and the wonderful Sandie Shaw, who was a real fave- I've got quite a few of her singles for the fantastic jukebox I'm going to purchase when I live in an enormous house.

From The Album That The Chefs Never Released

Another Song From The Kitchen

Four and half hours' writing, and rewriting... it's time for a rest, and a song from the kitchen. Been listening to a lot of Northern Soul recently, and as my pals relate their heartbreak stories somehow they pour out of their heartstrings and on to my guitar strings. First kitchen song since the fractured elbow!

Overhearing

The church down the road is in good voice- they are roaring away, full throated congregational singing. It's beautiful.
Meanwhile, I've relocated and the writing carries on. It's sixty hours and counting... downstairs to pick up a potentially useful book, up again to realise it's not as useful as it pretended to be. Strangely, the whole disastrous thing has turned into a romp.

Transcribing

I can't resist transcribing the latest producer interview, because she said something that was so relevant to the article. I don't seem to have stopped interviewing people and I suppose I might as well carry on until the well dries up. It's just so interesting to document people's stories, and because the editor of the book doesn't want the interviews published at the end, as was the original intention, he has suggested that I find another publisher just to publish the life stories in their through-written format.
How I wish I could type more quickly! I use to have an assistant who did a great job but she's now working full time so these clumsy fingers are stumbling through it all.

Roll On Summer

Doris Day On A Horse In Her Pyjamas

Ruth came round. I haven't written a word for two days; yesterday afternoon I fell asleep for ages, which is hardly surprising after six weeks of waking up for two hours every night and waiting for painkillers to kick in.
We talked about sound and music, and I told her about a new song that I'd written.
'What do you think about when you sing it?', she asked.
'Doris Day on a horse, wearing a pair of pyjamas'.
Ruth makes videos.

Ain't Going Nowhere

Dance wherever you are! Bishy bashy galloping drums and tinny production!

Paradise Lost

Greeny by Pete Green

The first LP I bought was The World of Blues Power when I was about 13 years old because I could afford it. This was one of the tracks, and I love it.

'Here To Be Heard: The Story Of The Slits' at The Arthouse Cinema, Crouch End

This cinema is a lovely little gem on the road out to Tottenham from Crouch End. Last time I was there, it was the screening of Paul Sng's film about Sleaford Mods; this time Bill Badgley, the director, had invited me along to take part in a post-screening panel alongside him, Steve Beresford and Tessa Pollitt. Christine Robertson, one of their scores of managers, was there too.
I had seen the documentary online, but it's much better to watch it in a proper cinema. Using Tessa's ('the quiet one') scrapbook, of cuttings to create a narrative thread, the early years are revisited along with some amazing footage of the band's proper punky days, something I know that Ari wanted to have remembered; this was pre-Peel session, and they thrashed along like the punkiest of punk bands in films made by Don Letts in the early days.
I loved the clip of Ari simply taking her clothes off to wash them in the launderette; what guts she had! Like a tall, thin flower she stalks through the film, dreadlocks aloft, laughing, dancing, singing and shrieking. Viv Albertine has a growling-and-claws competition with a passer-by, who growls back, too. There is a lot of talk about them looking scary- but these were four exceptionally beautiful women throwing aside the desire to please, physical and mental cleanliness, and breaking the silence imposed on young women in the 1970s.
Later, Bill said he showed the film to his Mum. 'It's a film about freedom!', she said.
Steve described laughing until he wept at the first Slits gig he went to, and Tessa said she knew how funny they were. In the film, Palmolive describes the way they would sometimes discover that each of them was playing a different song. By some strange coincidence this morning on TV were was a little feature about the British Military Bands, and how they had had to centralise the music training college after a disastrous birthday parade for Queen Victoria where each band from around the country played a different arrangement of the same piece of music at the same time. Ho ho!
Rather bravely on all counts, Kate Korus appears to tell her story of being thrown out of the band. It always seemed to fall on Tessa to do the dirty work of sacking people, but she remained good-humoured throughout; the ways that she and Ari complemented each other's personalities was apparent all the way through. And Palmolive- what a raconteur- I know Ari really wanted to hear her Christian versions of Slits songs!
What come across very strongly is the sense of emptiness when it was all over for the original members of the band. Viv sits in the gloom of a book store signing a pile of her books; as she embarks on a new career you get a sense of how odd life continues to be for members of a ground-breaking punk and when all the 'noise' is over.
There is so much in this film, and so many people to please. Some people may only engage with the first punky part, whereas others will find the later years fascinating, when Holly, Dr No and Adele joined up and Ari mentored their song writing. It has been an amazing feat and a complete labour of love for Bill and Tessa to collect together such a diverse archive of material and present it as a whole like this. I am so glad they did, because this is a strong documentary that tells a truthful story of a bunch of young women's survival from dark and stimulating times right the way through to the 2000s when the world is a very different place.
I am still thinking about it all today, and I woke up this morning crying for Ari and her wonderful energy. What a character! She was a big fan of Patsy Cline, she told me; and she turned up with her son at my 50th birthday party in the north London suburbs, with a Dancehall CD as a present. She stayed the entire course of the party and had perfect manners, asking McSis for her recipe for rice and raisins, making no judgements about people (she was as happy to chat to completely straight-looking people as she was to converse with the weirdos), and believe it or not, blending in perfectly. She could do a middle aged birthday party just as well as a punky reggae party. God bless you Ari xxx

Hundred-Sneeze Helen

Hay fever; spring is in the air.

Here To Be Heard: The Story Of The Slits. Documentary in Crouch End

I will be on the panel tomorrow with Tessa Pollitt and the director William Badgeley.
http://www.arthousecrouchend.co.uk/programme/?programme_id=4398120
Starts 8.30
Good fun!

Smoking Seal

There are moments of serenity amid the moments of insanity (I think that's going to be a song).
Drawing at Gina's house, while she paints her powerful new work, is one of the most peaceful gaps in the week. This is a seal with no whiskers yet and an unfinished tail.
That's life, isn't it? An unfinished tale.

Big Thanks Again to Gideon Coe

Gideon Coe, you are a gem for playing Women of the World again last night! Tucked in right next to Ivor Cutler's song of the same name, too, with Yo La Tengo hanging out a bit late on.
If you would like to support the documentary Stories from the She-Punks, here's the link to buy the tracks: http://storiesfromtheshe-punks.bandcamp.com