Three Ex-Punks Play Norwich!

We had a sunny run down to Norwich, and met Ana and Shirley (the Raincoats' manager) at Olives, which was being set up ready for the gig.
Peter Lyell, who runs The Chefs website, came along to say hello; we had never met before and he had another thing to do but I told him about the new Chefs album. The site is here:
www.sukeplow.demon.co.uk/chefs/chefs.htm
Multiple wire-tanglings and lead-swoppings later, the sound checks were done and we were ready to go.
The venue filled up very quickly, and I went on first and played a full set, which I don't often get a chance to do. The audience were really up for everything, which was good luck as it's sometimes scary opening for artists with established credentials, which was what happened last night.
I'd never seen Ana play before and I really enjoyed her set, especially the song about the disco ball! Ana has a poetic way with words and performed in front of a real-time film of the lighthouse off the coast of Sunderland. Gina played some of her set with the DVDs but the wire-tanglings and lead-swoppings kicked in and she abandoned the films, proceeding to prove her mettle as a proper punky song-writer, funny and perceptive and dramatic all at the same time. She had me (and a lot of other people) in stitches with her song about secrets and gossip. I saw Richard (Penguin, the promoter) appear with a gleam in his eye, and sit down next to Gina and Ana with a persuasive look, and after Gina's set Ana joined her onstage, Gina picked up the bass and they launched into Fairytale at the Supermarket. Three more Raincoats songs later and the audience went home satisfied.

It had been a music-packed night, I gather from Richard very different from the type of show he normally promotes. Hats off to the guys behind the bar who worked so hard at getting the sound right, even popping over to the shop to get a battery for Gina's foot pedal; to Richard and his partner for putting so much positivity into the gig; to Martin Stephenson for having the idea in the first place; to Ana for stepping in; to Viv for landing the Damned tour; and to Gina for revealing the fact that Ana puts green paint on all her plectrums to make sure no-one makes off with them!
It was a good-natured evening indeed, and I hope we will be doing more in 2012, possibly with Pauline Murray too.

Norwich Here We Come!

Guitars packed, spare leads, strings CDs to sell.
What does one wear to drive so many miles and then play?

Fantastic Music Library

...especially of very early recordings
www.archive.org

Guitar

I have never had a guitar lesson in my life; I learned (and am learning) the band way: watch people play and get jealous enough (or inspired enough) to go home and sit for hours working out how they did it.

Panic

I have started to apply for research funding, partly spurred on by the negative reaction by some people to the lectures I've been doing recently.
Funding applications take hours to fill in; the other weekend I spent two days doing one, and I've been sorting out a different one this week, bouncing it over the various approval hurdles at work, emails here, there and everywhere, PDFs, Word files, Excel spreadsheets....
Deadline yesterday.
Finally, it was ready to submit after a last-minute iPhone email conversation or three during my lunch break with a very patient research person at work, from the corner of a muddy field which was the only place I could get a signal.
I heaved a sigh of relief.
Then I got an email.
Disaster! I was locked out of my account!
The patient research person called me at home to tell me the bad news; she suggested I set up a new account, fill the whole thing in again, and try re-sending it.
I plodded and plodded through the evening re-creating it, set up the new account and pressed 'submit'.
But would it get to them?
This morning, I called the funding people; a very nice chap said he was sorry, but his computer wasn't working. Could I call back later? Well, I had a three-hour seminar with a short break, so I thought I could.
Then there was a fire alarm, and the entire University turned itself inside-out. We trooped down the stairs and huddled by the side of the building while a man with a megaphone instructed us in barking tones to stand back and get off the road. We milled about in the chilly car park and waited to see if it was a false alarm or not.
Luckily I had evacuated the scrap of paper with the chap's phone number on it, and I called him from an island of quiet in the crowds.
Yessss! The application had got through to him!
Frankly, I almost don't care whether they give me the money or not; the sheer effort of getting the thing to its destination feels like victory enough.

Trumpet

It's a trumpet, in that box; it won't make a sound at the moment so I'll have to take it to the trumpet doctor for some tender loving care. It's a beautiful fellow, a little on the battle-scarred side but all the more loveable for it!
It sits amongst the book-piles on the floor awaiting repair, looking shyly up a the guitar propped on the chair and at the strident piano that inhabits most of the room, waiting for the day when it can add its voice to the home cacophony.
Parp!

With Box, Durham

Olive's Cafe, Norwich, Saturday 12th November

Here is a ticket link for this gig: solo sets from Gina Birch and Ana Da Silva, and also from myself
http://www.ueaticketbookings.co.uk/events/women-in-punk--the-raincoats---ana-da-silva-and-gina-birch---helen-mccookerybook-.aspx

Coach 'V'

On a train journey, the woman seated next to me had a deep, rich and germy cough. I discreetly turned away, but across the aisle a young woman with a rose-red nose sniffled sadly. In the next block of seats, a man sneezed loudly from time to time.
Martin wondered if this was a special coach for people with viruses to share, coach 'V', rather like coach 'B', 'the quiet coach'.
Given the propensity of viruses to mutate, I wonder what sparkling new disease we could have created on a six-hour journey?

Thomson's Evolution of Western Dance Music

http://www.thomson.co.uk/blog/wp-content/uploads/infographic/interactive-music-map/index.html

Joke (Martin's)

What's it called when you try to persuade someone to give you a job in November, December or January?
A winterview.

A Walk in Trent Park

Trent Park is a beautiful park in Enfield, especially at this time of year.
I have been to lots of different events; the council can't seem to make it's mind up what the park is for. For several years they had a mega-firework display with lasers and a huge bonfire. Then other years in the summer they have had balloon festivals, and crafts festivals that featured traction engines and a steam-driven plank-making machine (I loved it!)
Funniest was the stoat-racing year which I did write about at the time. For 4 pence (who on earth settled on that fee?) you bet on a hopeless stoat- they were all hopeless- and yelled encouragement. One got halfway down the tube and stopped, with its fur peeking out from joins in the plastic tubing. Another got halfway down the tube very quickly, changed its mind and backed out again. And one got almost to the finish, the end of the tube, and backed out again too. The eventual winner was very casual, pausing for thought a few times (you could see its shadow stop and start) before sauntering out of the end of the tube, looking bewilderedly at the cheering crowds.
This photo shows the carved benches and gargoyles that continually mutate and change. You never see the guy who makes them: maybe he's a ghost, or a horde of elves. All the stages of the process are there to see, from the massive trunks of felled trees to the grey, seasoned furniture you see in the picture.
There is also an animal sanctuary, which I was tempted by (they sell fresh duck eggs), but the smell of chicken sh*t was a trifle pungent today so I gave it a miss!

Business Illustration

This is from the 1990s.

Work

No more postings about lectures etc.
Education is private.
The blog is returning to its former bland splendour.
There are more appropriate places for some of the things that need to be said, and more appropriate readers/listeners. I think I overstepped a mark a few postings ago and I have deleted the posting after making the decision that my attempts to anonymise situations are not effective enough!
I apologise.

I am mad. I bought these this afternoon on my way back from work. They are so like the pair of Pirelli slippers I had when I was in The Chefs and that I wore for the first of Claire's marvellous photographs of the band, during a phase when I was rather chubby. We ironed, hoovered and polished, and she hand-tinted us to perfection.
I already have a similar pair in brown which I shall now have to wear, in order to allocate these a place at the back of the queue.You know, I did an internet search for a pair about a year and a half ago and all I could find was a mention of a pair in South Africa. Fact!
This morning I spent with my inspiring bunch at the University of the West, just across the conference table from my friend Dr No, also doing dissertation tutorials; then this afternoon I went to visit a music organisation in Kilburn (Dyne Road, where me, Treacle, Carl and Simon Smith lived in a big house owned by the Conneallys, who had three houses with adjoining back gardens ruled by a flock of chickens who used to pop into the kitchen and help themselves to the contents of the cat tray for supper-ugh!).