Getting his ideas off the ground again, this is dedicated to the eternal V*rgin and his team of spacetronauts. I will play it tonight!
Friday, November 01, 2019
Bristol Tonight!
Bristol's gig tonight is at the invitation of The Lovely Basement, songsmiths extraordinaire, upstairs at The Greenbank Pub, Easton. Hope to see all you Brissols there!
Thursday, October 31, 2019
Happy
Actually, I'm very happy because so many of the students I'm teaching have found work placements.
Yes, extremely happy!😀
Yes, extremely happy!😀
Wednesday, October 30, 2019
Song
There's a new song on the way, to begin new sets with next year.
I had a great idea for the chorus- then realised I'd used that melody already.
Ha ha!
It's all the more fun to dodge around that and find something different.
What am I doing at the bottom of a well though?
That's where the lyrics have gone.
I'll listen to the echoes for the answer.
I had a great idea for the chorus- then realised I'd used that melody already.
Ha ha!
It's all the more fun to dodge around that and find something different.
What am I doing at the bottom of a well though?
That's where the lyrics have gone.
I'll listen to the echoes for the answer.
Friday at The Greenbank, Easton, Bristol
I will be playing in Bristol this Friday with The Lovely Basement at The Greenbank Pub in Bristol.
They are a great band and I might even play some new songs. Upstairs, from 8 p.m.
They are a great band and I might even play some new songs. Upstairs, from 8 p.m.
Tuesday, October 29, 2019
Dave
I scheduled a tutorial for Dave yesterday.
I asked and asked, but he never piped up.
It turned out that there is no Dave in the class.
I must have misread the class list, but I like the idea of an invisible student and I will continue to teach him for the rest of the year.
Every University needs a Dave!
I asked and asked, but he never piped up.
It turned out that there is no Dave in the class.
I must have misread the class list, but I like the idea of an invisible student and I will continue to teach him for the rest of the year.
Every University needs a Dave!
Sunday, October 27, 2019
Friday, October 25, 2019
Thursday, October 24, 2019
With Joe Davin On Stylophone At The Prince Albert
Photo by Kim Rivers- good luck in Manchester gal! X
Monday, October 21, 2019
Vauxhall City Farm, Now And Then
About ten years later, when I was a youth worker in Peckham, I took some young people to Vauxhall City Farm and they refused to sit next to me on the bus back, because I'd picked up a hen on that visit too!
The goats and the pig are new friends that I made on Sunday, and the vulture perches on top of a nearby house next to some allotments. Thanks to the Offsprogs, whose idea it was to go there.
McCookerybook, the animal's friend.
Sunday, October 20, 2019
An Afternoon with Asbo Derek and The Astronauts
It was sunny in Brighton yesterday afternoon, but with a nasty little nip in the air if you weren't careful. Thankfully, a warm welcome awaited those fortunate enough to know about the special matinée at The Prince Albert, the famous Brighton music pub a gnat's cough away from the station. Brian, well-thumped (more of that later) drummer of Asbo Derek was there already, but the pub wasn't open yet: luckily, Joe Davin, top session musician of the day, was walking up the road with his Dad and we went for coffee and a chewy sourdough sandwich while The Astronauts did their soundcheck. Joe was overcome by the amount of stylophones he had been offered; and not only was he playing stylophone for me, but he was also playing keyboards for The Astronauts. Almost as soon as we got back to the Prince Albert, so did the audience.
It was obvious that this was going to be a great afternoon.
Brian started the proceedings with a story that rambled along amiably with such finesse that I was always two beats behind with laughing at the funny bits. In a nutshell (yes, I'm going to spill the beans, or nuts if you like, because then he'll have to write more stories) when Brian was on holiday in Greece, an Albanian misunderstood him when he said he had been a social worker working with children, as being a 'sexual worker' working with children. The entire hotel turned against him and two of the guests wanted to thump him until the matter was resolved, and he spent the rest of the holiday dining out on the story.
Drinking out on the story.
Up I leapt for my bit, a selection of hits from my repertoire finished off neatly with The Band That Time Forgot, during which I hoped like hell that I wouldn't forget any of it, and knew that once Joe arrived with his stylophone the song was nearly over. Readers it was worth it, if only for the collective wince when the Stylophone solo began! And also for the lusty choral audience singing for the chorus of At The Bathing Pond, which was remarkably strong and tuneful for a Saturday afternoon when everybody's hangovers still probably hadn't worn off.
Then dear Asbo Derek clambered on to the stage: how I have missed them! Their good-natured bad temper ('Get on wi' it!'), their thrashing chords, their pure punk silliness, Brian getting cramp, Jem stomping about the stage waving his arms madly and digging about in his brain for yet more innuendo, Darcy and Mark looking at each other as if they are desperately imagining themselves to be in a different band. I loved the new song Pheasant Attack so much that I almost didn't sulk because they didn't play The Buddhist Lost Property.
Almost, but not quite.
Steve's live mix was so good that entirely new lyrical meanings emerged and new layers of grubbiness materialised. I could hear my friends, who'd been Asbo Derek virgins until now, roaring with laughter beside me.
Oh the joy!
I want Asbo Derek for Christmas please, Santa!
More stories from Brian, then Lee McFadden's dream of Lou Read singing Send in the Clowns was brought to life in front of our very ears. It was a hit!
Finally, The Astronauts landed on the stage and treated the packed venue to a feast of tightly-rehearsed progressive rock, sometimes sounding like early Pink Floyd, and at others like Soft Machine's third album. Their drummer is amazing: in fact all of the musicianship is amazing. Touchingly they were joined by Hawkwind's flute and sax player, Nik Turner, who happened to be in Brighton because The Hawklords were playing at The Dome last night, and Helen Robertson sang with them too.
It was fun, friendly, musical, warm-hearted and beat my normal poor sad Saturday afternoon occupation of watching the Come Dine with Me omnibus with a bag of Doritos hands-down.
What a great idea, matinée gigs! Big slice of pheasant pie for Asbo Derek!
It was obvious that this was going to be a great afternoon.
Brian started the proceedings with a story that rambled along amiably with such finesse that I was always two beats behind with laughing at the funny bits. In a nutshell (yes, I'm going to spill the beans, or nuts if you like, because then he'll have to write more stories) when Brian was on holiday in Greece, an Albanian misunderstood him when he said he had been a social worker working with children, as being a 'sexual worker' working with children. The entire hotel turned against him and two of the guests wanted to thump him until the matter was resolved, and he spent the rest of the holiday dining out on the story.
Drinking out on the story.
Up I leapt for my bit, a selection of hits from my repertoire finished off neatly with The Band That Time Forgot, during which I hoped like hell that I wouldn't forget any of it, and knew that once Joe arrived with his stylophone the song was nearly over. Readers it was worth it, if only for the collective wince when the Stylophone solo began! And also for the lusty choral audience singing for the chorus of At The Bathing Pond, which was remarkably strong and tuneful for a Saturday afternoon when everybody's hangovers still probably hadn't worn off.
Then dear Asbo Derek clambered on to the stage: how I have missed them! Their good-natured bad temper ('Get on wi' it!'), their thrashing chords, their pure punk silliness, Brian getting cramp, Jem stomping about the stage waving his arms madly and digging about in his brain for yet more innuendo, Darcy and Mark looking at each other as if they are desperately imagining themselves to be in a different band. I loved the new song Pheasant Attack so much that I almost didn't sulk because they didn't play The Buddhist Lost Property.
Almost, but not quite.
Steve's live mix was so good that entirely new lyrical meanings emerged and new layers of grubbiness materialised. I could hear my friends, who'd been Asbo Derek virgins until now, roaring with laughter beside me.
Oh the joy!
I want Asbo Derek for Christmas please, Santa!
More stories from Brian, then Lee McFadden's dream of Lou Read singing Send in the Clowns was brought to life in front of our very ears. It was a hit!
Finally, The Astronauts landed on the stage and treated the packed venue to a feast of tightly-rehearsed progressive rock, sometimes sounding like early Pink Floyd, and at others like Soft Machine's third album. Their drummer is amazing: in fact all of the musicianship is amazing. Touchingly they were joined by Hawkwind's flute and sax player, Nik Turner, who happened to be in Brighton because The Hawklords were playing at The Dome last night, and Helen Robertson sang with them too.
It was fun, friendly, musical, warm-hearted and beat my normal poor sad Saturday afternoon occupation of watching the Come Dine with Me omnibus with a bag of Doritos hands-down.
What a great idea, matinée gigs! Big slice of pheasant pie for Asbo Derek!
Weird London Life
Chance found me in company in Vauxhall Gardens this morning, walking across the muddy wormcasts that had burst through the scrubby grey-green surface in the night.
A child-sized car (lurid blue) was whizzing about on the grass with a blond infant inside wobbling about unsteadily. On closer inspection, we saw that the car was controlled by distant Father, with a remote control box with an antenna in his hands; the infant was completely at Father's mercy, reversing and turning at daddy's whim. Backwards, forwards, on to the path and back on to the grass. A nearby family was in fits of laughter, watching the helpless baby darting about; they called across to Father and asked how it all worked.
'Don't take photographs!', ordered the Offsprogs.
I did, but mostly just with my eyes.
As we strolled into Vauxhall City Farm, a large carthorse had noticed the commotion and it ambled over to the wooden fence, hanging it's head over the wooden bars in curiosity.
We left it watching the baby intently, and went to visit the goats, whose visitors were screaming in terror as the animals nibbled goatfeed from their outstretched palms.
Ah, Sunday morning in London. Nowt like it!
A child-sized car (lurid blue) was whizzing about on the grass with a blond infant inside wobbling about unsteadily. On closer inspection, we saw that the car was controlled by distant Father, with a remote control box with an antenna in his hands; the infant was completely at Father's mercy, reversing and turning at daddy's whim. Backwards, forwards, on to the path and back on to the grass. A nearby family was in fits of laughter, watching the helpless baby darting about; they called across to Father and asked how it all worked.
'Don't take photographs!', ordered the Offsprogs.
I did, but mostly just with my eyes.
As we strolled into Vauxhall City Farm, a large carthorse had noticed the commotion and it ambled over to the wooden fence, hanging it's head over the wooden bars in curiosity.
We left it watching the baby intently, and went to visit the goats, whose visitors were screaming in terror as the animals nibbled goatfeed from their outstretched palms.
Ah, Sunday morning in London. Nowt like it!
Saturday, October 19, 2019
A Surfeit of Stylophones
What a lot of R*lf Harris conversations were conducted this afternoon!
Joe Davin, bless his musical cotton socks, sourced a stylophone (potentially an entire herd of them, in fact) from Steve Drennan, so he could play the stylophone solo in The Band That Time Forgot.
Apparently Brian Blaney instructed him to make all the mistakes that I made in my recorded version (recorded in haste and with a keyring stylophone with a broken connection in it's stylo).
Joe made his own deliberate mistakes, after coping with the fact that Steve's Stylophone was a tone higher than mine is.
Apparently Shend had offered him one too, and we wondered about a Stylophone Orchestra, but people were not keen on the idea for some unfathomable reason.
Thank you Joe, for stepping in so late in the day (and before playing keyboards for the Astronauts too!).
Steve offered Joe the Stylophone after the gig, but he politely declined.
Ah, the R*lf Harris conversations! Jem told me that The Court of King Caractacus was his favourite song. There was general agreement that an even worse revival of the wobble board should be avoided.
Somehow we got on to Chesty Morgan, and I discovered that I know a lot about Chesty Morgan (but I don't know how).
Jem was offered the loan of two Chesty Morgan videos.
Did this really happen this afternoon?
And we discovered that there's a p*rn video called 'Nine Elvises'.
Oh deary me!
Lovely to see Jon, Jill, Simon, Kim, Steve, Lee (who played a song he dreamed the other night, Lou Reed playing Stephen Sondheim), and a great big crowd on a Saturday afternoon.
I'll write more tomorrow.
And Steve on sound! Hooray!
Joe Davin, bless his musical cotton socks, sourced a stylophone (potentially an entire herd of them, in fact) from Steve Drennan, so he could play the stylophone solo in The Band That Time Forgot.
Apparently Brian Blaney instructed him to make all the mistakes that I made in my recorded version (recorded in haste and with a keyring stylophone with a broken connection in it's stylo).
Joe made his own deliberate mistakes, after coping with the fact that Steve's Stylophone was a tone higher than mine is.
Apparently Shend had offered him one too, and we wondered about a Stylophone Orchestra, but people were not keen on the idea for some unfathomable reason.
Thank you Joe, for stepping in so late in the day (and before playing keyboards for the Astronauts too!).
Steve offered Joe the Stylophone after the gig, but he politely declined.
Ah, the R*lf Harris conversations! Jem told me that The Court of King Caractacus was his favourite song. There was general agreement that an even worse revival of the wobble board should be avoided.
Somehow we got on to Chesty Morgan, and I discovered that I know a lot about Chesty Morgan (but I don't know how).
Jem was offered the loan of two Chesty Morgan videos.
Did this really happen this afternoon?
And we discovered that there's a p*rn video called 'Nine Elvises'.
Oh deary me!
Lovely to see Jon, Jill, Simon, Kim, Steve, Lee (who played a song he dreamed the other night, Lou Reed playing Stephen Sondheim), and a great big crowd on a Saturday afternoon.
I'll write more tomorrow.
And Steve on sound! Hooray!
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