The Chefs 'Food' on The Sewing Bee

Yes, the rumours were true! Watching The Sewing Bee on catch-up this afternoon, there's our song Food playing in the background! Have we got a secret fan somewhere at the Beeb?

Looking Back: Publishing 'She's at the Controls'

This was truly a labour of love, just as was The Lost Women of Rock Music. What  relief to finally see it published, and to good reviews as well.

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

Thinking

We are in a state of perpetual learning as our external lives and our internal lives clash with each other, compliment each other and move on together. A major learning experience I've had this year (that is, not just being aware of something but really understanding it) has been the fact that in the music industry there are so many different political flavours and beliefs embedded in people's creativity.

Maybe this is more of a reminder-to-self than anything else. I remember just after punk how crystallised out the DIY movement became. To some people, it became about entrepreneurship and to others, it was about enablement and the sharing of skills. Both of these approaches, had it been illustrated by a Venn diagram, had in common both creativity and independence. 

For creative people in the entertainment industry, we are dependent on other people to be our audiences (or indeed market, if we are more business-minded). It is this interface that has been affected by the pandemic, and it's here where divisions have formed, and where underlying beliefs have surfaced that are at odds with each other. Polarised, and triangulated by a government that is only able to see any event as an opportunity to enrich its members, the route out of this mess is streaming itself into right-hand and left-hand lanes. 

On the left, there is an attempt to take collective responsibility that involves short-term pain. This is difficult because we exist in a youth-orientated profession where five years is a lifetime. Any time spent out of the limelight means that when we emerge again, we'll find a lot of closed doors and our former space will be occupied by new people who had been waiting in the wings for the opportunity to shine. Who could blame them for this? 

On the right, there is frustration at the damming-up of activity, the resulting desert of opportunity, and the fog that obscures and sours the future. Why should everything stop, when it's weaker and older people who are more likely to be affected by the virus? Surely it's inevitable that there will be collateral damage and maybe it's better that everyone catches the disease, takes the risk, and then we can all get on with life untroubled by a virus that we have developed an immunity to, as part of a much stronger and more vigorous population.

And it seems that floating between the two streams of thought are those who find the whole thing exciting. Perhaps in the backs of their minds are the 'end-times' thoughts that some people were entertaining at the millennium. Everything is ending, and beginning at the same time. It's scary, but it's exciting. This is anarchy, surely? This is disruption! This is what creativity is all about: anger is an energy (sic), energy is anger, why be patient when you can be active and tip over some tables, grab some chances and be grinning triumphantly on top of it all when the apocalypse is over?

Underlying all this is money. Do we have enough to survive until times change? Politics is personal, despite being cloaked in a collective garb. Some of us find comfort in a steady set of beliefs, where for others political belief is of necessity slippery. To declare yourself as a right-wing musician can be risky, although many are secretly very much to the right (remember Adele complaining about paying taxes? Doesn't she realise that everyone else pays taxes too, and that they end up with a lot less money than she does when they've done that?). It is often expected that musicians will politically to the left: it's part of the deal. Successful musicians are sometimes called hypocrites when they don't cross the road to the other side. All the more respect for George Michael, who remained steadily principled as a left wing man, right to the end of his life.

What I have learned over the past two years is that I should not expect to be in agreement with my musical peers. I should not be surprised by them 'declaring for the right'. I can understand that we have different political beliefs, but I do not have to like this or condone this. I think it is better to know where people stand, which lane they are travelling in. I have seen musicians agree with everyone they come into contact with, condoning sometimes repellent views on both sides of the political divide just to keep 'in' with their fans. I can't do this myself, and I can't like it either. I need the steadiness of my belief in social justice and fairness, and you can't slither about politically if that is what you believe. 

Leaving 2021 for a new year, I hope not just for personal wisdom but also for the ability to understand people better, especially when we do not have commonly-held beliefs. I have found it disturbing to realise that a place that I thought was occupied by allies is, in fact, just as much a reflection of the 'outside world' as anywhere else. I need to understand that a person who is not a natural ally is not an enemy; they are just a different person whose life trajectory has caused them to have deeply held beliefs that are not the same as mine.

And that's enough thinking for today.

A Visit to the Animal Sanctuary

Oh, the weather was grim! We went to the animal sanctuary to see what was going on up there. 

There were a lot of different owls going on- apparently something to do with a police raid. A small Shetland pony snorted and galloped over to us for attention, again a police rescue. A poor little Muntjac deer with a bad hind leg looked very disturbed to be faced with fencing. Two young jays waited to grow their head crest feathers. A very old sheep limped about its enclosure, and another looked grumpily out of its shed at the drizzly weather. The Big Pig couldn't even be bothered with today, and slumbered on its straw, a barely visible mound in the shadows of its shed. Two little fox cubs looked absolutely miserable. There was a rabbit or two, some canaries, lots of parakeets (permanent residents because they are not natural British birds), pigeons, pheasants and doves, and a lot of geese, two of whom were creating an astonishing commotion. As we drew closer, we realised this was due to the presence of a huge and threatening-looking heron, that simply seemed to be enjoying winding them up. There were three free-range herons, all apparently up to the same tricks: just looming, hunched, looking for trouble. A different heron in an enclosure appeared to be oblivious to her team-mates' unpleasant antics.

Not many photos because it was so dark and gloomy, and I only caught two of the herons. I tried to photograph a fallow deer, but it was too shy. According to the notice on the fence, it was a goat.

Takeaway on Christmas Day, The Day After Boxing Day

Thanks to Wallace Dobbin for playing Takeaway on Christmas Day on his Rock and Roll Radio show last night! Listen again here: https://www.mixcloud.com/radiowinchcombe/rock-and-roll-radio-with-wallace-dobbin-27-december-2021/?fbclid=IwAR2shqzo2FXygr_vNx-019oDTE4LUf8nEe8vXkJh6aH8Q79oDJgP3cuTvKo

Photographs from Sunderland Foundation Course

There were taken by my friend Carol Alevroyianni, probably in Wylam, Northumberland. The other women are Cathy Gilbert, who I have lost touch with, and Kathleen Burton (later Snowball and now Croft), who gave me a surprise visit at the gig at Bom Bane's Café just before Christmas. There are very few arty people who don't cite their Foundation Year as one of the best years of their lives. Sunderland's Foundation was fantastic. We just did everything we could possibly imagine and more, all lubricated by a lot of cheap booze and a huge amount of energy that came from being an outsider course. 

I understand that one of the best lecturers, Robin Crozier, went on to become really famous as a corresponder. Somewhere I have postcards he sent to me when I went to Brighton Art College to do my degree in Fine Art Printmaking. He signed the concrete steps in Ryhope Park, just in case anyone noticed. I did. 

I have some photographs of us all somewhere that I should scan.

I can't believe that I've not posted much about it about it before, especially the wonderful group of men who called themselves Four Play. One of them drew life-size realistic drawings in pencil of them all on huge sheets of photograph background paper, and hung them on their studio wall. They organised an Office Party, with room-dividers sporting dull calendars, Glenn Miller music and cocktails, to which they all wore suits. They organised a Sparts Day, where in one room there was Ping Pong Poussin (you had to play the game and yell artists names at each other while you were swiping at the ball), a Wresting Match in the canteen in a proper wrestling ring where combatants whacked each other on the head with rolled up paintings, and 'Getting In To Art College' where some of the lecturers played along. You were given a portfolio with no idea what was in it, and you had to 'get in to art college'. One portfolio had nothing but children's crayon drawings in it; the person whose portfolio was filled with Van Gogh prints was accused of plagiarism.

They used to rush around looking as though they were on a mission. As for us, we were on a mission too. Some of us formed the Creep Clique and sat around looking revolting. I know I've written about William before: he was so confident he marched into the canteen once announcing in his loud voice 'William strode into the canteen. Everyone looked round to see him', or something like that. We made all manner of things with the encouragement of our lecturers, Big Sef (who had gone to Newcastle University with Brian Ferry: we were impressed), and Ken Eightfoot. We attended parties where we were out of our depth with older students. I learned how to etch and fell in love with the medium. We designed kitchens using airbrushes and isometric techniques, did woodwork, pottery, life drawing (we thought the life drawing tutor was in love with the model), made a bit of music, visited each others homes and learned about each others lives, and talked and talked and talked. I experienced the best kiss of my life. Ah, that's enough for now!

Janice Long

It's very sad news that Janice has passed away. She was a complete music enthusiast, knowledgeable without wearing badges about it sewn to her sleeve, and with a good humoured nature that was a complete breath of fresh air.

Out of the blue in the last year, I got an email from her producer asking if I'd like to record a session and an interview for her show on BBC Radio Wales. It was completely unexpected, and it was touching to be remembered after all these years. A couple of days before the show she phoned for a chat and told me about coming to see Helen and the Horns with her husband, with her baby in the pram. It was like talking to a close pal, and I vowed to visit her in Liverpool once everything went back to normal; you could feel the warmth through the phone, and I remember feeling just that when she used to do her Radio 1 show back in the day. Janice was tactful (she knew stuff about my personal life and didn't even go there) and hugely supportive.

She was really on the ball with what was happening in music, and after the show I followed up some of the other music she played. Back in the day, her show was a great launchpad for John Peel's later-evening and more esoteric musical offerings. I had just sent her a message to ask how she was, and didn't want to believe that she was ill enough not to be able to recover. Such a lovely person, and such a loss. She was one of us.

Takeaway on Christmas Day

 https://wiaiwya.bandcamp.com/track/takeaway-for-christmas-day

Christmas Greetings

Merry Christmas to everyone who reads this blog, whoever and wherever you are, and especially if you are alone. I know it can be a tough day if that is you. It's worth remembering that everyone is human and people tend to look ultra-happy online, even when they are not. Wishing us all peace, love and honesty for 2022.

Climb Into My Bag, Little Girl

 

Repairs

I spent part of the afternoon repairing McDad's dressing gown to wear, the one that McMum made for him. It is made from light-brown scratchy herringbone wool. McDad liked light brown scratchy things: maybe it was the Presbyterian in him. He had his own special plain light brown scratchy towel for years, while the rest of us moved on from threadbare holey ones to John Lewis specials. He also (sacrilege to reveal) had his own special oblong white china Izal scratchy toilet paper holder in the bathroom, which came in handy for comb-and-tissue-paper kazoo making. 

Maybe that's the root of my music making! 

Anyway- I put  patch on a hole in the lining (Yes! A lining! That is true love!), sewed up the torn hem, sewed the button back on and steamed it to get rid of any remaining moths (it has a slew of random punctures). It's very warm and it was good therapy to fix it.

I've got McDad's gardening hat too, but I don't think I'll wear that. It's as flat as a pancake in a drawer full of used clothes that belonged to various members of my family. I'm not sure if it's an archive or a hoard. My great grandmother's wedding dress in in there, and the little jumpers that I knitted for the Offsprogs when they were little. All handmade.

When McDad died I felt it in my whole body, which was completely unexpected. I sat in the same chair for two days, looking out of the window. Then I wrote this song there by the window, and sang it into my computer. It was a remarkably healing experience to be able to describe our Dad in such a clear way. I know McMum used to play it from time to time, which is the best validation anyone could have. Merry Christmas to McMum and McDad, and also to everyone whose parents have passed away. I hope your memories are happy, or at least that you are able to remember the happy bits.

https://soundcloud.com/mccookerybook/the-song-of-the-landsmans-soul

Christmas Queen with Archive Film

This is a recording from 2007, one of those years where life seemed to be collapsing around me, when there was no solid ground underneath to stand upon. Bendi Records of Sweden asked me to make a Christmas record, and I recorded four tracks for them. This one was my favourite, because it was so unexpected that it happened. I recruited the choir by emailing all my contacts, booked the studio and hoped for the best, without knowing who would turn up. Thus the He-mails and She-mails came into existence, and it was a wonderful reminder of how people will just be up for a laugh, and be willing to jump on a bus to an unknown destination. Music to the rescue again!

The film is from an archive and has been edited by Naimad to fit in the right places. We are all having an unusual Christmas this year, just as we did last year: we are discovering that we are surprisingly resilient. It's not nice, it it? But we improvise, and understand that we have often been remarkably lucky in past years. Let's hope for a kinder and more tolerant New Year, and until then, Merry Christmas, compliments of the season and as many greetings as there are people in the world.

Truth, Strength and Kindness

How much we need these things! Having read about Rishi Sunak schmoozing private US healthcare firms with a view to selling the NHS to them while Omicron was ripping through Britain, I felt nothing short of despair. I was looking for hope in tiny corners, where perhaps it could be clustered in faint dustballs almost invisible to the naked eye. It is there. We are stronger than we thought. 

Dawn

The days are short- but the dawns are often beautiful. I was driving very early this morning through pre-dawn darkness, and when the mission was accomplished daybreak brought the most beautiful pink and blue skies, colours graduating from one to the other, the rising sun gilding the clouds and vapour trails. As the road twisted and curved, new panoramas blushed and gleamed above the dark concrete streams and canyons, and my heart filled with joy in spite of everything. We can't control illness, but neither can we control nature. It reminds us that we are part of it all, and it sent a Goldfinch to the white-barked Birch that I planted five or six years ago to nibble at the hanging seed pods. How very lovely!

Takeaway on Christmas Day

Thank you Gideon Coe for playing Takeaway on Christmas Day by McCookerybook and Rotifer last night! You can hear the track here: https://wiaiwya.bandcamp.com/track/takeaway-for-christmas-day