Here is a link to Martin's website for info about our new release!
http://www.martinstephenson.me.uk/Site/NEW_RELEASES.html
You can listen to Beachwalk and The Cafe of Tiny Kindnesses here:
http://www.martinstephenson.me.uk/Site/Podcast/Podcast.html
...plus some of Martin's songs from his new album California Star.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Scottish Money
Sorry North London Hospice Charity Shop, but Scottish fivers ARE real money. Your excuse that you can't scan it doesn't wash- you have never, ever scanned any English currency I have passed to you. The manager you called needs to know this too, otherwise you will lose custom.
The Sound of Music
Of course, in the 1970s everyone mocked. So a group of film students from Brighton Polytechnic went along to see it- probably the equivalent of today's young Shoreditch-Laptop Trust-fund-in-waiting types, all ready to deride the film with barbed phrases.
Afterwards they emerged, dazed, into the sunshine of the seafront.
'It is the perfect film', they enthused, 'Just perfect'.
Many years later, I was involved in a heated argument with a normally unheated theatre director who had asked me the name of my favourite musical. 'It's Absolute RUBBISH', he declared. I defended it with just as much vim. I met him some time later: he had just taken his daughters to see it.
'Perfectly brilliant', he admitted. 'Great songs!'.
I think The Sound of Music and Oliver! are both amazing examples of songwriting for musicals. I have always loved these shows, which of course are now vintage, and really not liked Andrew Lloyd Webber's sonic stranglehold on the West End.
I am hunting for a contemporary equivalent to these oldies as we speak.
Afterwards they emerged, dazed, into the sunshine of the seafront.
'It is the perfect film', they enthused, 'Just perfect'.
Many years later, I was involved in a heated argument with a normally unheated theatre director who had asked me the name of my favourite musical. 'It's Absolute RUBBISH', he declared. I defended it with just as much vim. I met him some time later: he had just taken his daughters to see it.
'Perfectly brilliant', he admitted. 'Great songs!'.
I think The Sound of Music and Oliver! are both amazing examples of songwriting for musicals. I have always loved these shows, which of course are now vintage, and really not liked Andrew Lloyd Webber's sonic stranglehold on the West End.
I am hunting for a contemporary equivalent to these oldies as we speak.
Caroline Coon
Take a look at Caroline's paintings- I particularly like her documentary paintings of the area around Ladbroke Grove. She is unique as an artist and there are secrets locked within her work: time we saw an exhibition! No-one else is observing on canvas the way London's street life changes over the years.
http://www.carolinecoon.com/gallery.htm
http://www.carolinecoon.com/gallery.htm
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Birdge
On my way to work, a creeping headache sneaks in, alongside the familiar ring of anxiety dyslexia.
I wait at a red traffic-light, next to a dark old bridge stained and streaked with pigeon-poo. There is a defaced notice on it, the words almost obliterated by smears of urban guano.
'Birdge', I read, anxiety-dyslexiacally. Good name for a city bridge, under the circumstances: every neighbourhood has its stenching quota of pigeon-fragranced railway bridges.
I wait at a red traffic-light, next to a dark old bridge stained and streaked with pigeon-poo. There is a defaced notice on it, the words almost obliterated by smears of urban guano.
'Birdge', I read, anxiety-dyslexiacally. Good name for a city bridge, under the circumstances: every neighbourhood has its stenching quota of pigeon-fragranced railway bridges.
Monday, January 09, 2012
Album
I think Martin and myself have almost finished our next album, which we completed last week (probably!). There was a rush of late song writing that produced You and Me Time (Martin) and Beachwalk (Helen) and we just have to put all the songs together and see if they work as a whole idea. It is going to be entitled The Cafe of Tiny Kindnesses, named after a waitress we saw in a cafe in Barcelona who had a gentle and compassionate way of working, making sure that everyone was happy without intruding, and seeming to know how to behave with solitary people sitting nursing one coffee in a cloud of sadness.
It has taken more than a year to record; Martin has had a very productive year (California Star is nearly completed), and I spent most of last summer organising photographs for the book and tracks for The Chefs CD. Sometimes it's good to take a bit of time; songs have to feel right and match up to each other, and we have both rejected a couple of our own songs after writing more suitable ones.
Martin is playing at The King's Head in Crouch End this Friday, his yearly January solo gig. It is always a very special night. Come on down if you want a bit of winter warmth!
It has taken more than a year to record; Martin has had a very productive year (California Star is nearly completed), and I spent most of last summer organising photographs for the book and tracks for The Chefs CD. Sometimes it's good to take a bit of time; songs have to feel right and match up to each other, and we have both rejected a couple of our own songs after writing more suitable ones.
Martin is playing at The King's Head in Crouch End this Friday, his yearly January solo gig. It is always a very special night. Come on down if you want a bit of winter warmth!
Sunday, January 08, 2012
Friday, January 06, 2012
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
Splash!
Down at the Docklands Campus today, the rain was lashing the windows like a Special Effect from an Alistair Maclean movie, back in the day. The wind thrashed the concrete, and the water in the dock was pulled and punmmeled into grey, frothing waves of an alarming height.
I imagined a tsunami rolling down the Thames, unhindered by the Thames Barrier, sweeping the aircraft from London City Airport in its wake; the University of the East would find itself in water up to its knees and I would be trapped there for a day or two, sustained only by a banana, two clementines and a small quantity of Floral Gums (bought in Crieff from the sweetie shop) that I have squirrelled away for... a rainy day.
I imagined a tsunami rolling down the Thames, unhindered by the Thames Barrier, sweeping the aircraft from London City Airport in its wake; the University of the East would find itself in water up to its knees and I would be trapped there for a day or two, sustained only by a banana, two clementines and a small quantity of Floral Gums (bought in Crieff from the sweetie shop) that I have squirrelled away for... a rainy day.
Monday, January 02, 2012
Gremlinface
A greyish, gremlin's face peers at me in the mirror (accidentally typed as 'morror', a cross between mirror and horror, most appropriate). Yes readers, it is mine. It got up at 6, roused Offsprog Two, loaded her into the car minus her packed lunch and drove her around the labyrinthine streets of Victoria at dawn, finally decanting her on to a double yellow line at Victoria Coach Station with a pinch of swearing and a sniff of thanks.
The car has leaked during the holiday period and smells pungently of Wet Mat, in spite of/because of being blasted by the car heater at every possible opportunity. The removable mats have been removed and placed in the washing machine but have now evolved into exotic flat black artworks, bent and twisted in a joy of expressionistic pain, and unfittable back in place. Anyway, the crumpled car park receipts, used tissues and blue water bottle tops on the floor of the car make replacing them and impossible task. A serious valet job is on the cards but I'm too out of pocket at the moment. If only I could trade surplus Christmas chocolates for the necessary labour!
Me and WetMatCar went visiting at breakfast time and my very kindly South London Friend made strong coffee that we drank in the kitchen. Even their dog wasn't up yet; it shambled in an hour later half-heartedly asking for a pat before it went back to bed.
Back home, the marking pile is dwindling (48 done, three to go plus a half-day of listening to recorded songs); the house is empty once again. The Christmas tree will be decommissioned tomorrow (alas!) and the battle to get the local council to collect it will commence. Toothbrushes have multiplied in the bathroom (how come two daughters produce five toothbrushes?), precious essences have disappeared; the fridge is empty once more and their room is strewn with plastic bags and wrapping paper (plus half a bottle of rum that didn't feed the New Year's vomitorium at an unfortunate friend's house in Kentish Town).
The gremlin ponders Christmas. Easier than last year in some ways (no shouting), harder in others (car problems and health problems too).
All in all, Not Too Bad.
The car has leaked during the holiday period and smells pungently of Wet Mat, in spite of/because of being blasted by the car heater at every possible opportunity. The removable mats have been removed and placed in the washing machine but have now evolved into exotic flat black artworks, bent and twisted in a joy of expressionistic pain, and unfittable back in place. Anyway, the crumpled car park receipts, used tissues and blue water bottle tops on the floor of the car make replacing them and impossible task. A serious valet job is on the cards but I'm too out of pocket at the moment. If only I could trade surplus Christmas chocolates for the necessary labour!
Me and WetMatCar went visiting at breakfast time and my very kindly South London Friend made strong coffee that we drank in the kitchen. Even their dog wasn't up yet; it shambled in an hour later half-heartedly asking for a pat before it went back to bed.
Back home, the marking pile is dwindling (48 done, three to go plus a half-day of listening to recorded songs); the house is empty once again. The Christmas tree will be decommissioned tomorrow (alas!) and the battle to get the local council to collect it will commence. Toothbrushes have multiplied in the bathroom (how come two daughters produce five toothbrushes?), precious essences have disappeared; the fridge is empty once more and their room is strewn with plastic bags and wrapping paper (plus half a bottle of rum that didn't feed the New Year's vomitorium at an unfortunate friend's house in Kentish Town).
The gremlin ponders Christmas. Easier than last year in some ways (no shouting), harder in others (car problems and health problems too).
All in all, Not Too Bad.
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