Songs Of Silver

Top Ten, Two Thousand And Ten.

2010-12-02T22:56:00.002Z

Found here.

1 voice of the seven thunders voice of the seven thunders
If I were to make a venn diagram of the things that appeal to me musically, Voice Of The Seven Thunders would be the point of convergence. There is nothing about this record that I don't like.
2 nymph nymph
I hear what you're saying. It's the VINYL countdown, dumbass! Well let me tell you, the fact that this album is only available on cd is seriously harshing my mellow too. But what's to be done? Deny my ears of this ferocious beauty just because it's voice sings through polycarbonate? I think not! Shame on us both, and a pox on our plastic prejudice.
3 roberts, alasdair and friends too long in this condition
With friends like these who needs... more friends? Roberts is joined here by Emily Portman (vocals), Alastair Caplin (fiddle), Christine Hanson (cello), Donald Lindsay (flute) and Alex Neilson who is - as ever - worth his weight in gold in the drumming stakes. A masterful collection of dark folk, continuing in the vein of last year's 'Spoils'.
4 trembling bells abandoned love
Alex Neilson again. The restraining order, presumably, is in the post.
5 ulaan khol iii
On the elemental table of heaviosity, Ulaan Khol is up there with Sabbath. Need I say more...
6 dwarr animals
Once again shoehorning a reissue into my top ten with some flimsy excuse. This year? I'd never heard this LP - shamefully - until the reissue came out, so it's 'new' to me... (cue tumbleweed). Doomadelic.
7 james, richard we went riding
The next best thing to a reformed Gorky's (which is what we're all praying for, after all).
8 amidon, sam i see the sign
We have a High Fidelity moment every time we play this in the shop, which speaks volumes for any record. Nick Drake meets Arthur Russell.
9 family elan bow low bright glow
Such a wonderfully brave album, only just about reaching under the shelter of the 'psych folk' umbrella. I've no doubt that many will want to like this but will be scared away by the exotic instruments and patchouli scented aura... but those that dug Magic Carpet before them will revel in the very same things. I count myself among their number.
10 the owl service a garland of song
Usually the words 'modern traditional' with regards to folk music would make me think of that awful violin-wielding bird with the blue hair. But The Owl Service have achieved the seemingly-impossible with this album, both antiquated and avant-garde, contemporary yet classic. I offer both a doffed cap and a thumbs up in response.

Sleeveface

2010-12-02T22:53:00.002Z

Published in (This Is Fake) DIY...

Let me start by saying that the five albums that follow are genuinely the first five I thought of. The reason for this is twofold: firstly, to make my choices any other way would be to give in to what would look good in a magazine, rather than give an honest opinion. Secondly, I don't have time for the first. Remember that scene in 'High Fidelity' where Rob is asked to give his top five albums of all time and spends the next day poring over his answers, considering every record in his collection? That would be me.

In which case:

1. Black Sabbath - Black Sabbath (1970)
In 1970, America was deemed too easily offended for the full gatefold version of this glorious sleeve. Which is to say, no inverted cross, but also that it would be impossible to take in the full beauty of the original image (short of peeling apart the cover). Sad times in the USA, and a reason to get an import.

2. Cheryl Dilcher - Butterfly (1973)
As far as novelty sleeves go, this takes the biscuit tin. Pop the mask out and Dilcher it up or simply revel in what the space reveals... Special mention to the dancing kitten.

3. Rachel's - Handwriting (1995)
DIY labels: think you put a lot of effort into your handmade sleeves? That's nice. Rachel's printed theirs with their own blood.

4. The Pentangle - The Pentangle (1968)
You could be forgiven for thinking that you were getting something decidedly more tough than blues-infused reworkings of 16th century ballads with this cover - more punk rock than folk rock - but for me, that's what makes it. It's a sleeve that defies genre with it's simple silhouetted brilliance.

5. Dave Evans - The Words In Between (1971)
Whichever way you look at it, it's just Dave's face. Dave's big, smiling face. And that makes me happy.

Just Call Me Fuzzy - Mixtape

2010-09-26T17:27:00.001+01:00

Just Call Me Fuzzy

2010-09-16T12:06:00.001+01:00

There is n0thing so cheering as the clip-clop of a horse on London's grey streets.

Flash Company

2010-08-25T15:49:00.002+01:00

here.

2010-08-25T15:09:00.001+01:00

Having a baby makes you hyper-aware... The down side is that I now imagine I hear things. Fabricated noises include the sound of babies crying, keys in the lock and the beeps before the news on radio 4.

Rough Trade Shops Psych Folk '10

2010-08-10T14:15:00.006+01:00

This is the closest I will come to ever releasing an album (and still several country miles away)... Songs by other people, commentary by Alex, Simon and yours truly. Here.

S Y D

2010-08-02T16:50:00.005+01:00

I hold my breath waiting for his.

Resonance Tomorrow

2010-06-23T08:44:00.003+01:00

I have been unspeakably lazy about posting the playlists for my Resonance shows (or, indeed, posting at all) so a special mention goes to tomorrow's show, which will be my last before maternity leave and increasing baby brain kicks in. Expect much pleasure for your ears from the likes of Plinth, Jex Thoth, Ramesses, Richard James, Harry Smith, Jack Rose, James Blackshaw, Ass, Kurt Vile and Linda Bruner.

Blue Crystal Fire

2010-05-26T10:21:00.000+01:00

2010-05-14T13:24:00.003+01:00

Show me the bones of your broken heart!
Roll the stones to the edge of the night!

Goodbye Glenarm Road

2010-05-06T18:15:00.003+01:00

It is with a heavy heart that I write that we will be leaving our home in the near future. Timing aside, this has been a truly horrible piece of news... Every time I look around the house I keep thinking about all the things we've done there - the things that have made it so beloved to us - and my heart sinks a little lower.

What about the tender seedlings waiting in their pots to be planted out into the garden? What about the garden itself, transformed by us from dishevelled to delightful? What about the pictures we hung and the walls that we painted? What - most of all - about the room we made beautiful for the arrival of our child?

I try to keep in mind that there are far worse things happening in the world but right now it feels as though we've had the rug pulled from under our feet. Sigh.

Night Scented Stock

2010-04-21T11:16:00.001+01:00

Planting flowers that will bloom in time for my son's birth.

2010-04-02T11:47:00.001+01:00

Keep your things in a place meant to hide
But I know they're there somewhere
And I know that's where you'll go tonight
I'll be thrown over just like before
The white lady loves you more
Need a metal man just to pick up your feet
It's a long time since you cared enough
For me to even be discreet
I know what this metal is for
The white lady loves you more
I'm looking at a hand full of broken plans
And I'm tired of playing it down
You just want her to do anything for you
There ain't nothing that you won't allow
You wake up in the middle of the night
From a dream you won't remember
Flashing on like a cop's light
You say she's waiting and I know what for
The white lady loves you more

< < < < K O O K S > > > >

2010-02-17T18:14:00.003Z

Felt the baby move for the first time yesterday... what a exquisitely strange and wonderful experience. Much as childbirth scares the living daylights out of me, I feel lucky to have the chance to get to know my child in this way before he or she is even born.

Past Tents

2009-08-17T14:15:00.003+01:00

Please dear god, don't let it rain in Brecon this weekend. I'm not sure I could stand three days of wading through mud (again).

Ode To A Nightingale

2009-08-01T16:18:00.005+01:00

Funny how

These words have transcended generations...

'Tender is the night'

In poem

In book

In song

I feel so lucky to have known all three

Chapter Five

2009-07-27T08:18:00.003+01:00

'I've got one more record - have you heard "So Long Letty?" I suppose you have.'
'Honestly, you don't understand - I haven't heard a thing.'
Nor known, nor smelt, nor tasted, he might have added; only hot-cheeked girls in hot secret rooms. The young maidens he had known at the New Haven in 1914 kissed men, saying 'There!' hands at the man's chest to push him away. Now there was this scarcely saved waif of disaster bringing him the essence of a continent....

The Museum Of British Folklore

2009-07-23T16:26:00.006+01:00

The Museum Of British Folklore. What a wonderful, wonderful thing. Thank you to Alice for sharing.... I predict many lost hours!

here.

2009-07-15T18:05:00.000+01:00

B L O O M

2009-07-13T14:14:00.002+01:00

My body tends towards habit... My heart longs for something new....

My Last Two Resonance Shows

2009-07-13T11:19:00.001+01:00

I've been really lazy with this....

Rachelle Garnier - 'My House Of Peace' - 7" - Third Man
Mildred & The Mice - 'I Like My Mice' - 7" - Third Man
Dex Romweber Trio - 'The Wind Did Move' - 7" - Third Man
The Dead Weather - 'Are Friends Electric' - 7" - Third Man
Pisces - 'Kiss Your Mother Goodnight' - A Lovely Sight - CD - Numero
Andy Votel & Dom Thomas - Track 2, Side D - Anagram Jam - LP - Finders Keepers
Andy Votel & Dom Thomas - Track 1, Side A - Anagram Jam - LP - Finders Keepers
The Soft Machine - 'Why Are We Sleeping' - James Pants Psychik Almanac - CD
Ganglians - 'Lost Words' - Monster Head Room - CD - Woodsist
Cheatahs - 'Warrior' - 7" - Young & Lost Club
Kurt Vile - 'Classic Rock In Spring' - Constant Hitmaker - CD - Gulcher
Jack Rose & The Black Twig Pickers - 'Kensington Blues' - S/T - CD
6 Organs - 'Bar Nasha' - Transmissions From Sinai - CD - Arthur Magazine
Hush Arbors - 'The Valley' - Transmissions From Sinai - CD - Arthur Magazine
Pantaleimon - 'At Dawn' - Transmissions From Sinai - CD - Arthur Magazine
Grouper - 'Everyone In Turn' - Transmissions From Sinai - CD - Arthur Magazine
Lichens - 'Kopernik Trip Note' - Transmissions From Sinai - CD - Arthur Magazine

Ganglians - 'Valient Brave' - Monster Head Room - CD - Woodsist
Francis Harold & The Holograms - 'Why Are You So Afraid' - Who Said These Were Happy Times - LP - Going Underground
MC5 - 'I Can Only Give You Everything' - I Can Only Give You Everything' - LP Reissue - Get Back
The Dead Weather - 'Hang You From The Heavens' - Horehound - CD - Third Man
Forest Fire - 'I Make Windows' - 7" - Broken Sound
Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros - 'Mexico On The Count Of Three' - 7" - Fairfax
Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros - 'Home (Demo)' - 7" - Fairfax Records
The Smith Westerns - ' Tonight' - S/T - LP - Hozac
Deerhunter - 'Circulation' - Rainwater Cassette Exchange - CD - Kranky
Sore Eros - 'The Dream Self' - Second Chants - LP - Shdowply
Jackie O Motherfucker - 'Skylight' - Ballads Of The Revolution - LP - Fire
Young Widows - 'Mid Western' - 7" - Temporary Residence

Records I Used To Own but No Longer Own:

2009-07-09T17:57:00.002+01:00

Dennis Wilson - Pacific Ocean Blue
The Pretty Things - Parachute
The Youngbloods - Elephant Mountain
Mighty Baby - Mighty Baby

gone
gone
gone
gone

Resonance Last Thursday

2009-06-19T17:31:00.002+01:00

Now you can listen....

here.

2009-06-16T19:30:00.003+01:00

J'etais perdu dans la rue
fatigue et mal au cul
J'ai vu un petit cafe
avec une fille dedans
et je lui disais

'Puis-je m'asseoir aupres de toi
pour te regarder?
J'aimerais la compagnie de ton soleil.

Je ne veux pas plus que ca
Non, ca n'est pas une grande histoire
Encore un beau sourire
et apres ca je peux partir

'Puis-je m'asseoir aupres de toi
pour te regarder?
J'aimerais bien la compagnie de ton soleil.

Resonance Playlist... Last Thursday

2009-06-16T17:21:00.003+01:00

Bill Callahan - 'My Baby Cries / The Breeze' - 'Loving Takes This Course' - CD - Chapter Music
Hiss Golden Messenger - 'Tongue In Cheek' - 'Country Has East Cotton' - CD - Heaven & Earth
Trembling Bells - 'The End Is The Beginning Born Knowing' - Carbeth - LP - Honest Jon's
Pisces - 'Dear One' - 'A Lovely Sight' - CD - Numero
Can - 'She Brings The Rain' - 'Soundtracks' - CD - Spoon
Rick Tomlinson - 'Surfin' UAE' - 'Open Strings' - CD - Honest Jon's
Sir Richard Bishop - 'Barbary' - 'The Freak Of Araby' - CD - Drag City
Michael Flower - 'Lake Of Fire' - 'Open Strings' - CD - Honest Jon's
U.S. Girls - 'Me And Yoko' - 7" - Not Not Fun
White Hills - 'Radiate' - 'Heads On Fire' - LP - Thrill Jockey
Vibes - 'Night Court' - 7" - Not Not Fun
Real Estate - 'Fake Blues' - 7" - Woodsist
Scout Niblett - 'I Wanna Love' - 'Loving Takes This Course' - CD - Chapter Music
Meg Baird - 'There Was A Boy' - 'Loving Takes This Course' - CD - Chapter Music

barcelona

2009-06-03T17:49:00.002+01:00

Code Of The Boys

2009-05-23T16:45:00.002+01:00

This Made Her Smile

2009-05-18T18:50:00.004+01:00

She began to pace about Rickie's room, for she hated to keep quiet. There was nothing much to see in it. The pictures were not attractive, nor did they attract her--school groups, Watts' "Sir Percival," a dog running after a rabbit, a man running after a maid, a cheap brown Madonna in a cheap green frame--in short, a collection where one mediocrity was generally cancelled by another. Over the door there hung a long photograph of a city with waterways, which Agnes, who had never been to Venice, took to be Venice, but which people who had been to Stockholm knew to be Stockholm. Rickie's mother, looking rather sweet, was standing on the mantelpiece. Some more pictures had just arrived from the framers and were leaning with their faces to the wall, but she did not bother to turn them round. On the table were dirty teacups, a flat chocolate cake, and Omar Khayyam, with an Oswego biscuit between his pages. Also a vase
filled with the crimson leaves of autumn. This made her smile.

2009-05-17T17:24:00.003+01:00

When I woke this morning, my head was heavy with dreams. It was early; twilight, and the lamps in the street were just deciding whether take their chances with the purple-infused light and revoke their services... pop, pop, pop, off they went, one by one. I gulped in some of the new day's air and slept a little longer.
Some hours (but a life in dream-time) later, I was infected with you. My thoughts have carried you for days - and I suppose it was inevitable that my subconscious should catch up sooner or later. My nocturnal wanderings gave way to every nuance of my thinking... It was such a delight to dream and a sorrow to wake... as I pulled myself from the sheets (and the deliciousness of sleep) I did frown a little to see the new day begin.

2009-05-15T16:37:00.002+01:00

Does the world seem good to you?
Does the music get to you?
Does the wisdom of your heart
Show you how to play your part?

cats and cats and cats

2009-04-16T08:56:00.004+01:00

All is well at Glenarm Road, until...

Bea Nettles

2009-04-13T21:17:00.008+01:00

I wish I knew more about this woman. I wish that I could attend her book-binding class in the summer. I wish, more than anything, that I could live with one of her amazing, amazing works of art...
My heart creaks when I look at her pictures.
Symbiosis.

Claire Bell

2009-04-07T14:54:00.002+01:00

I miss you!

Roedelius - Jardin Au Fou

2009-04-07T12:15:00.003+01:00

I have fallen in love. Thank you Marc for the recommendation.

Lovely Edna

2009-03-26T16:33:00.005Z

My friend Caroline has made an album of songs to accompany words by one of my favourite poets, Edna St. Vincent Millay. I think it's going to be a beauty.

Resonance FM Playlist - 12/03/09

2009-03-13T14:51:00.002Z

Yeah yeah, hosted by me.

Visitors - 'Visitors' - Jean Pierre Massiera Compilation CD (Finders Keepers)
Douglas Wood - 'Folk Ghost' - G-Spots Compilation CD (Trunk)
Belbury Poly - 'The All At Once Club' - 'From An Ancient Star' CD (Ghostbox)
Mountain Machine - 'Mountain Machine' - Amorphous Androgynous Compilation CD (Platypus)
Magic Markers - 'Psychosomatic' - 'Balf Quarry' CD (Drag City)
Micachu - 'Vulture' - 'Jewelry' CD (Rough Trade)
Dan Deacon - 'Woof Woof' - 'Bromst' CD (Car Park)
Casiotone For The Painfully Alone - 'Born In The USA' - 'Advance Base Battery Life' CD (Tom Lab)
Bat For Lashes - 'Daniel' - 'Two Suns' CD (Echo)
Sharon Van Etten - 'Tornado' - 'Because I Was In Love' CD (Language Of Stone)
Alexander Tucker - 'Poltergeists Grazing' - 'Portal' LP (ATP)
Wooden Shjips - '?' - 'Dos' - (Holy Mountain)
Topaz Rags - 'Black Honey' - 7" - (Not Not Fun)

Writing Class

2009-03-06T08:26:00.003Z

Artist seeks lover and companion, with passion for life, love, the arts and wild places. Attract. F, 56, seeks considerate M, for poss. l’term relationship, 50-65. SW/anywhere. Voicebox 67183.

It was the Monday after Christmas that Alfred spoke the words. He made out that love didn’t come into it, but I knew that was what he meant.

“Try not to think of it as a reflection of what we once had” he said, eyes unable to meet mine, “rather that something… changed. We’re different people now.”

What happened after that is so much of a blur, it was almost like seeing it through someone else’s eyes. I was only partially aware that the house was becoming empty around me; clothes again had room in the cupboards, the laundry basket could meet with the lid, drawers closed and doors rattled from the chasm they were guardian to. I remember being vaguely aware of my heart beating heavy in my breast as I watched a bin-bag grow weighty with the last of his possessions, but to all intents and purposes I was - by that stage – a void. On the day he left, in an awful parody of our former lives, I handed him his bag and he kissed me goodbye before he closed the door to our house for the final time.

I was alone with my sorrow; misery came to live in my heart and I did not fight it. I longed for the escape of death but hadn’t even the fortitude for that. Never had the clouds with their bruise of colour seemed more apparent… the downpour that eventually came as a relief to them gave me no such respite but my eyes streamed in unison all the same.

The only thing that didn’t suffer in the months that followed was my art. I surrounded myself with canvases, great swathes of virgin white - so much possibility where there seemed to be ruin in every other sense. I painted for days, the only marker of time being the number of empty wine bottles I woke up to. My work took on a new tone - one of anger, dejection and loss. Scarlet, vermillion, emerald, violet, sapphire and indigo all made their way magpie-like to my palette. My hands became raw as I turned the age-sealed lids of hues previously overlooked, the metal tearing at my palms. The whole world around me felt superfluous – the only thing that mattered was to make the hurt that had come to live in my heart tangible; to somehow paint away the pain.

s h a r r o n v a n e t t e n

2009-03-05T09:41:00.003Z

Her album comes out soon. You're going to fall in love

Resonance FM Playlist 26/02/09

2009-03-02T10:28:00.001Z

Dan Deacon - 'Wet Wings' - 'Bromst' CD (Carpark)
Stag Hare - 'Yeriyah Matreearchy' - 'Black Medicine Music' CD (A Star)
Fever Ray - 'Keep The Streets Empty For Me' - 'Fever Ray' CD (V2)
These Are Powers - 'Glass Blocks' - 'All Aboard Future' CD (Dead Oceans)
Higamos Hogamos - 'Moto Neurono' - 'Higamos Hogamos' CD (DC Recordings)
J. Spaceman - 'Outer' - 'Spaceshipp' CD
The See See - 'Clap Your Hands And Shake A Chain' - 7" (Great Pop Supplement)
Sad Day For Puppets - 'Marble Gods' - 7" (Sonic Cathedral)
Crystal Stilts - 'Crystal Stilts' - 'Crystal Stilts' CD (Angular)
Mutating Meltdown - 'Fantasy' - 7" (M'Ladys Records)
Kasms - 'Bone You' - 7" (Trouble Records)
Venetian Snares - 'Sabbath Dubs' - 10"
Susumu Yakota - 'Flower White' - 'Mother' CD (Lo Recordings)
Klimec - 'True Enemies And False Friends' - 'Pop Ambient 2009' CD (Kompact)
Bridget St. John - 'Ask Me No Questions' - 'Ask Me No Questions' CD (Cherry Red)

2009-02-18T17:26:00.002Z

"Night draws in and the darkness speaks of my defeat...."

< < < < R A D I O > > > >

2009-02-16T10:39:00.004Z

Last Thursday was spent at Resonance FM where I broadcast my first ever show under the Counter Culture umbrella. It was, in short, exhilarating. The handful of mishaps have given way in my mind to the overall experience, which was wonderful. Instead of playing the new releases available at Rough Trade (as is the usual turn of events), I offered my favourite records from my own collection. You can see the playlist here.

ATP Wishlist

2009-02-02T10:36:00.002Z

OM
Bardo Pond
Pocahaunted
Grouper
Jex Thoth
White Magic
Cloudland Canyon
Silver Summit

Weekend

2009-01-21T08:15:00.011Z

Sunday was spent at Matt's Gallery, where the most thought-provoking exhibition I have seen in some time is taking place. M and I arrived a little late to find that the space was already full of folk looking to escape the brittle chill of the outdoors... and not without reason. The cold beers we automatically accepted on the way in seemed almost comedic.

And so to the work itself, as we were ushered (and I mean that in the literal sense - the man truly did have a torch and a prededication for finding the most awkward spot in which to sit) into a small, recently-painted (blue) room. As the somewhat intoxicating fumes gave way to the smell of sunday afternoon - of shampoo and of freshly laundered clothes - we bore witness to Lindsay Seers' film, 'It Has to Be This Way' and sat rapt for half an hour. I was completely taken in: the mental illness, the sister, the breakdown of their relationship and the accident that followed it; the lover, the varying personas and the photographs, marking out their journey like tarot cards in reverse; it never struck me that this should all be some kind of fabrication, some tale to tell for a month or two and eventually add to her cv. Such is art; such is life, I suppose....

Watched This Week

2009-01-16T17:36:00.001Z

Persona.

Patrick McGoohan R.I.P.

2009-01-14T17:55:00.001Z

jex thoth

2009-01-11T17:31:00.005Z

femme acid-doom from san fransisco. the only thing
my ears want to hear right now...

2 0 0 8

2008-12-31T23:59:00.000Z

Top Ten Of The Year

2008-12-20T17:07:00.000Z

Found here.

Davey Graham R.I.P.

2008-12-16T10:45:00.001Z

Don't Cry No Tears Around Me

2008-11-17T23:05:00.002Z

Don't cry no tears around me
Don't cry no tears around me
'Cause when all the water's gone
The feeling lingers on
Old true love ain't too hard to see
Don't cry no tears around me

+ + O M + +

2008-11-03T13:36:00.002Z

On Friday night I felt my soul vibrate.

Spalovač Mrtvol

2008-10-23T14:33:00.003+01:00

Tomorrow, Tomorrow....

2008-09-30T14:25:00.000+01:00

2008-09-29T17:03:00.001+01:00

Hackney Gazette Headline

MISSING
WOMAN
REMAINS
FOUND

2008-09-25T12:43:00.002+01:00

Is there anything more sigh-worthy than Spitalfields market, and not a penny to spare?

Max Richter - 24 Postcards

2008-09-04T14:05:00.003+01:00

Heartbreakingly beautiful.

(Here.)

Le Gun

2008-08-30T17:55:00.002+01:00

I urge you (whoever you are) to go and see the new exhibition by Le Gun.

Dead Meadow / The Beep Seals / Colorama / The Sound Carriers / The Yellow Moon Band

2008-08-27T17:25:00.003+01:00

Awesome line-up, but I'm sure you'll agree that the real stars of the show will be myself, Jarin and Pat who will be playing records for your listening pleasure.

Going To The Dogs

2008-08-08T13:53:00.004+01:00

Last night was spent at (the soon to close) Walthamstow Stadium. More fun than I've had in a very long time, the punters were just as good viewing as the races themselves.... We won two, we lost three; not a bad ratio given our amateur status.
Truth be told, it was all we could do not to take one of the losing dogs home (poor Townhill Widtink!), but I'm sure the cats thanked me for my resolve.

Sunday

2008-08-05T15:14:00.001+01:00

I see you in the subway and I see you on the bus
I see you lying down with me, I see you waking up
I see your hand, I see your hair
Your bracelets and your brush
And I call to you, I call to you
But I don't call soft enough

I walked into this empty church I had no place else to go
When the sweetest voice I ever heard, whispered to my soul
I don't need to be forgiven for loving you so much
It's written in the scriptures
It's written there in blood
I even heard the angels declare it from above
There ain't no cure,
There ain't no cure,
There ain't no cure for love

Tomorrow We Camp

2008-07-31T16:33:00.000+01:00

Lord help us all.

Mary Ellen Bute

2008-07-27T18:06:00.005+01:00

Yesterday I went to see the most amazing set of short films. ("Short films" doesn't quite do them justice actually, but what else to call them?)
The astonishing work of Mary Ellen Bute was previously unknown to me but in the short time since I was introduced to her I have become quite the fan....
From Wikipedia: Mary Ellen Bute was a pioneer American film animator significant as one of the first female experimental filmmakers. Her specialty was visual music and, while working in New York between 1934 and 1953, made fourteen short, abstract musical films. Many of these were seen in regular movie theaters, such as Radio City Music Hall, usually preceding a prestigious film. Several of her later abstract films were categorized as part of her Seeing Sound series.
Bute began her filmmaking career collaborating with Joseph Schillinger on the animation of visuals. Her later films were made in partnership with her cinematographer Ted Nemeth whom she married in 1940. Her final film, inspired by James Joyce, was Passages from Finnegans Wake, a live-action feature made over a nearly three-year period in 1965-67.

Pen And Paper

2008-07-27T13:00:00.003+01:00

I sit at my desk and attempt another paragraph. The scene is set - as well as it can be - for writing: the orange glow of the lamp guides my way, the spice of the oil silently burning fills the room, the chair is comfortable and the wine good. Just one thing stops me from beginning what should be, given the circumstances, an amiable task - the music. The music, without lyrical distraction and chosen as purely background, still causes my mind to wander.... Though so much a joy to me, it is sometimes difficult not to see my involvement with music as a hinderance. I would love, for instance, to be able to fall asleep with music playing, allowing it to seamlessly infect my dreams, but it isn't to be. I am unable to concentrate on anything but the sounds, to which I am hopelessly lost....

2008-07-24T11:18:00.000+01:00

Where there are trees,

I will walk there

What has been left,

I will rest

And in the hold

which is thickest

I'll bury my shoes,

I'll bury my dress.

This Morning On Powerscroft Road

2008-07-24T11:15:00.002+01:00

"Hello Jeffrey. Hello Susan."

In Other News

2008-07-24T11:12:00.000+01:00

So very happy.

Time For Tea

2008-07-24T11:11:00.001+01:00

People have finally moved into the 'Time For Tea' house on Shoreditch High Street. I have watched and wondered about what will become of that building for so long now - my eyes growing used to the dusty 'for sale' sign that became more a part of the facade with every passing day - that it came as nothing if not a shock to see the windows propped open and people actually walking around inside as I traveled home last night. Most people - including myself - know the house as a place that was painstakingly transformed by a couple over the course of many years into what can only be described as a time capsule, a tribute to the glory days of britain in the 20s and 30s. Doorknobs were bakelite, lamps were gas, curtains hung heavy on brass hooks. Cinema seats, piped with a worn leather trim awaited occupants and blue-black reels of film lay ready to transport viewers to an era in keeping with the surroundings. This was a home, the kind of place that takes a lifetime to form - every layer added without any sort of rush or hurry; the slowness of the world forming around them undoubtedly pleasing. And now someone else lives there. Someone that will change all this, pull up carpets and undo lampshades and think the bakelite tacky. How can this be possible?

Bruises

2008-07-24T11:09:00.001+01:00

Strangely enough, I don't bruise easily. While the rest of my being has the resistance of an over-ripe peach, my flesh yields until the cause of the hurt is long forgotten. It is at this place that I find my shin this morning and a bruise the colour of a rain-heavy cloud.

Remembered

2008-07-24T11:04:00.001+01:00

I think I've finally put everything away. It is a feeling of immense relief, to know that I am completely at home now, that all my junk has found nooks and crannies.... And there's nothing that says 'this is home' quite like setting your stereo up. The truth is, I had been putting it off because meddling with anything that needs to be plugged in is usually a traumatic experience for me - i seem to be an excellent conductor of electricity - but today I managed it without so much as a spark. The first record I put on was one that hasn't seen the record player for a while, and so needed a jolly good clean before it was listenable... as I wet a cloth into a dilution of soapy water and gently ran it over the grooves, I was reminded of an enduring image from my childhood.... My father washing records in the sink and leaving them to dry in the dish rack, so many big black circles and the lingering smell of fairy liquid....

S - N - O - W

2008-07-24T11:00:00.000+01:00

in london. despite myself, I let out a child-like gasp of delight.

For Shame Of Doing Wrong

2008-07-24T10:58:00.000+01:00

Here.

A Good Week For Radio

2008-07-24T10:51:00.000+01:00

Two things caught my eye in the radio times this week, firstly an excellent documentary about Shirley Collins, which included a lengthly interview and (amazing!) archive material.

Here.

Secondly - and let's face it, women's hour never really disappoints - drama comes in the form of Colette's 'Cheri', truly one of my most favourite books.

Here.

Homing

2008-07-24T10:42:00.002+01:00

This weekend I make the long journey home to Cornwall, the craggy tip-toe of this isle. While the five or six hour journey is as well-worn to me as a favourite pair of jeans, there is still much pleasure in flying through the counties and readjusting my eyes to vast pastures. There is a simple joy too, in knowing that your destination is at the end of the line, that the tracks merely run out and you can go no further. And oh! the smell of the sea air....

Mary Florence Bonham Christie

2008-07-23T16:58:00.000+01:00

I listened to the most wonderful documentary on Radio 4 last night, about Brownsea Island (in Dorset) and more particularly, a Mary Florence Bonham Christie who came into possession of the isle in 1927. Christie earned herself something of a reputation as an eccentric when she decided to ban people from Brownsea's shores and allow the animals on the island to roam free. The Locals called her 'The Lady Of The Lonely Isle', which I think is rather a lovely title - though to be honest, she didn't seem lonely at all....

Here.

Oxford Flyer

2008-07-23T16:54:00.001+01:00

Marc My Words

2008-07-23T16:50:00.001+01:00

I miss Marc. An example of why:
So...January folks...Janus...that God with the two faces...one looking back, the other forward. The God of doorways and soft furnishings. And as that old two-faced Greek bastard was able to look back (don't do it Orpheus!) and forward, so may we my friends, acquaintances, enemies, subscribers, auto-fillers, e-mail-round-robbiners and whoever happens to be in the address book of this particular account. At this point, you may exempt yourself from class and this small pulse of familial propinquity, if it appears your connection is not evidently beneficial to...well, as Derrida put it (and why is the artworld still obsessed with the '80s? Derrida is like SO '80s! Yes...he kicked the Decon before but...you know it! Pass me the lime zig-zag-tee!<><>And the music world with the '60s...but it's changing folks...mark my words...it's all '50s this year! Hawaii FIVE OH and twanging! Here comes that slim-jim sliver of fifty-rockin shiver) anyway, the political family. The fraternity. Jesus, I'm bored already. The e-mail address book.So, obviously I am here in a Northern headland-diaspora dribbling on my fingernails with a morsel of what? Enough to feed a mere seasonal robin? Take that POW! Batman! Indeed my flight from the swollen Londres to a life of lectures, packed-lunches and voluntary service on the Student Advisory Council has re-aquainted my idiom with the equilibrium. Like Godard says...what is your ambition? TO BECOME IMMORTAL THEN DIE. Tsk. Frrrp! Ding dang Derridaaah Derridooh mah Phil Spector babylove!!! I licked you on the staircase now you want to be my building.Indeed...isn't it obvious I have a record out? And such childish excitement for what? One single song that I wrote around six years ago is now on a compilation album, on a label you've never heard of and with a bunch of folk only some of whom you will know from your recent pretence at digging...like...folk music. Well, as some of you know, I'm too lazy and unfocused to catch that train. And I'm not...like...folk music. (Remember Thomas Barwick dropping Pentagle into the Mentasm mix in...oooh was it '99? Over thirty years too late<>ahead. In fact the only LP I've ever 'nicked' was "Jack Orion" by Bert Jansch, from the music teacher staff room at school as I was a respected Prefect and was allowed to sit in there at lunchtime and drink coffee and do my sums homework...ahem! "He could fiddle the milk out a maiden's breast.")So, yes...a song called "Ask The Sun," on a lovely wee compilation actually, on Cosmos Recordings called "We Are All Circling The Stars". I named my song, not the LP and yes, mine is just as ridiculously galactical. Nice rustic gatefold sleeve, with a pic of me in make-up. It is as I said, not a new song, but none the less, a good song. Yes. There. I've said it. It is a good song. I will not measure it by Eric Satie, The Beatles, Kraftwerk or My Bloody Valentine. It's a waltz about time and love and morning. And it is good. If you already know it, then buy the LP for the other stuff which isn't quite as subtly magic as mine but worth it anyway and if you don't know it then you'd be advised to get yourself a morsel of the arse-end of the newish folk shit thing. A good song's a good song and this one has me asking very plainly if the Sun would just rather stay in bed some days. It has Adem Ilhan on double bass and the oh-why-isn't he-drummer-to-the-stars Ed Grimshaw. (Grimshaw! it's your name Ed! Change it! GRIMSHAW! The Dickensian percussionist who murdered small animals with his razor-sharp hi-hats!)Ok? That enough?NO! Of course not. Mountain Machine are in action this year. The first EP is out soon on This Is Not An Exit Records. It's nice and dirty. In fact we're just waiting on Ed smearing some animal blood on the tracks and we're off. Working title for LP1 is....................... P O C K E T R O C K.So, happy new year to ye all. Buy the record. Lick the stamps. Fill in the forms.

Warming

2008-07-23T16:48:00.002+01:00

Last night I made chicken broth, perhaps the most comforting of all food. Even more so if somebody makes it for you, as you're usually ill when that happens, but still. The smell of the stock simmering had the cats all but climbing into the pot themselves and by the time the rest of the ingredients had been added, I think I was as keen to taste it as they were. Never having been one for the thick creamed soups of heinz, this clear bright broth was the perfect antidote to the winter blues. Peasant food. I ate it with french stick and enough butter to induce cardiac arrest.
I suppose the recipe went a little like this, if you'd like to try it yourself:
Chicken Stock - 2 litres (ish)

Leftover Roast Chicken - 200g (ish)

4 Leeks

4 Carrots

10 New Potatoes

Swiss Vegetable Bouillon - Heaped tablespoon (or to taste)
Having eaten all the choiciest bits from your roast chook, set about dismantling the carcass. This is an extraordinarily messy job and is every bit as revolting as you imagine it to be. On the other hand, it does give you a sense - particularly when tearing limb from torso - of where your food has come from, which has to be important. Once all the meat has been removed and shredded, places the carcass and bones in a large pan and fill with enough water to just cover. I usually roast my chicken with a pierced lemon in it's guts (for moisture and of course flavour) and I see no reason not to add this to the pot as well. Bring to the boil, turn down the heat and simmer for a couple of hours. Sieve and set aside. You could go ahead and make the soup there and then, but the stock will do just as well in the fridge overnight or in the freezer for up to a month.When you're ready, heat a little olive oil in a large pot and simmer the chopped leeks. Peel and slice the carrots and new potatoes - i do mine in disks for the sake of aesthetics - and add to the pan. Finally add the bouillon and stock, making sure the bouillon dissolves properly. Bring to the boil, turn down the heat and then simmer until the carrots and potatoes are tender. The bouillon is quite salty so you shouldn't need to season the broth but of course that's your choice....

The Vinyl Countdown

2008-07-23T16:35:00.000+01:00

Ter-Wit Ter-Woo

2008-07-23T16:31:00.000+01:00

'Oh what a beautiful owl you are,the way you blink, it makes me thinkOf things to say and things to dobut most of all of loving you....'

2008-07-23T16:27:00.000+01:00

I was trying to listen to the music that brought about in me such a yearning, such an anticipation for what was to come. The first few bars were hell. Sick to my stomach and a spinning head to match, the impossibility of this task was obvious from the start. Holding on to the desk in front of me for pure strength I persisted, and found no less beauty in the song, yet the emotion it evoked in me was much changed. A shell of my former self, I reached the last few notes, and wished the ground would swallow me whole.

2008-07-23T16:24:00.000+01:00

Sometimes I do despatch my heart

Among the graves to dwell apart:

On some the tablets are erased,

Some earthquake-tumbled, some defaced,

And some that have forgotten lain

A fall of tears makes green again.

And my brave heart can over-tread

Her brood of hopes, her infant dead,

And pass with quickened footstep by

The headstone of hoar memory,

Till she hath found

One swelling mound

With just her name writ and beloved;

From that she cannot be removed.

2008-07-23T16:19:00.000+01:00

2008-07-23T16:11:00.001+01:00

The last night they spent together was accidental bliss. The clock chiming eight marked the sudden arrival of twilight and the realisation that the electricity had been cut off a day early. It dawned on Lydia that in her haste to cram her life into so many cardboard boxes she hadn't had time for a cup of tea, let alone to check that the kettle worked to make it. With this thought, the doorbell rang. It was James, customary bottle of something-or-other tucked under his arm, wrapped in the jewel blue paper of the delicatessen. "Light relief. screw-top too. I trust you've been fool enough to pack the corkscrew at such a cructial stage in proceedings?" Lydia smiled a weary, time-worn smile and closed the door behind him with a click.

A Letter Sent

2008-07-23T16:06:00.000+01:00

Last night, I tried to get a little drunk and do some writing. I spent the evening - or at least the part of my day when I wasn't duvet-clad and dreary - beside the fire attempting to be creative. Everything was in place: the snoozing cat that warmed my lap, the glass of chilly white wine, the obligatory candle burning silently on the table..... and yet, the words would not come. The strings would not keep time or tune. I ran both my fingers and my mind ragged in desperation.... of what? Wanting to achieve something? Wanting to be special? Wanting, at the very least to offer something up to this humdrum world that - if nothing else - breaks the monotony....?It would be ten times easier to tuck my quill back into my tunic and make eyes at the television. Why persist in being spectacular when it is utterly impossible.... But to exchange the highs as well as the lows (the lows, the lows) for the ordinary, is that really any better?

Tom Bawcock's Eve (Part One)

2008-07-23T16:05:00.000+01:00

A long time ago, much before you or I could remember, indeed much before our parents and our parents' parents could remember, a small fishing village right at the very tip of Cornwall's craggy reach lay captive to starvation. Mousehole (so called because of the enormous cave fishermen would pass when entering the bay - though what kind of mouse would live in that hole remains to be seen) was a mostly unremarkable place, home to the usual sort of folk that relied on the sea for, well almost everything. If the men didn't go to sea, no one ate. If the men didn't go to sea, there was no money. If the men didn't go to sea, they got under their wives feet quite frankly, and nothing got done. It was around Christmas time when disaster struck in the shape of the most crippling of events, a storm. But not just any old storm, one that threw waves clean over the harbour wall and onto the window panes of the unfortunate houses close to the beach. Mister Redhead the baker said it was worse than Missus Redhead's mood when it rained on the washing.The village had a natural fear of the sea, steeped as they were in traditions now long-forgotten, and the men would soon as take to their boats as empty the days catch into their wellington boots. Days passed and the men rather enjoyed it, taking up a firm residence in the pub. A week elapsed and the village grew peckish; animals were killed and the few vegetables that remained dug from the garden. After a fortnight, the residents of Mousehole were positively ravenous. The townsfolk grew desperate, standards were dropped and anything that moved became fodder for their poor aching bellies.
We've eaten all the cows and geese,
Chooks and hens and airy meese,
Chuffs and gulls and spiders too
Gramesolle pie and wormy stew,
We're hungry........

The Scent Of A Guttering Candle

2008-07-23T16:03:00.000+01:00

The scent of a guttering candle,
Forever leaving christmas in my thoughts
Every breath the memory dying
Light
Flickers
Dies
And I close my wet lashes to sleep.

To The Lighthouse

2008-07-23T15:57:00.000+01:00

Who shall blame him? Who will not secretly rejoice when the hero puts his armour off, and halts by the window and gazes at his wife and son, who, very distant at first, gradually come closer and closer, till lips and book and head are clearly before him, though still lovely and unfamiliar from the intensity of his isolation and the waste of ages and the perishing of the stars, and finally putting his pipe in his pocket and bending his magnificent head before her—who will blame him if he does homage to the beauty of the world?

A Very Little Sphinx

2008-07-22T15:59:00.001+01:00

I know some poison I could drink
I’ve often thought I’d taste it.
But mother bought it for the sink,
And drinking it would waste it.

The First Frost Of The Year (Almost)

2008-07-22T15:57:00.002+01:00

Half-dressed half-pajama-d I left the house this morning at a spritely 8:3o am for the paper. Past the rows of houses, their sleeping beshuttered windows holding on to some last gasp of victorian grandeur; the rowan trees, weeping their red-ripe sorrow on the pavement below. Drawing my cardigan tighter around me, my breath came in clouds.
After the non-event of summer this feels like something of a relief. Too long have I suffered the dilly-dallying of the british weather - for goodness' sake, let it at last be decisive. I want to leave the house beret-clad and booted, to pile the eiderdowns high on the bed, to light candles and roast potatoes; I want to indulge in as many books and films as the longer days allow, dry my hair in front of the fire and mull wine with "enough spices to sink Denmark...."

Desperately Seeking

2008-07-22T15:57:00.001+01:00

Of course we should have met in a railway tea room on a rainy afternoon.
Lonely Surrey M, 65, awaits his brief encounter.

Chapter One?

2008-07-22T15:56:00.001+01:00

An expanse of marble white skin, pearlescent in the early morning; the delicate oval of her face an exquisite garden of flowers: the full tulip of her mouth, the grey-green anemones of her eyes and her cheeks as two cabbage roses. Wave after wave of burnt black hair and the ivory necklace of her teeth; Shelley lay in his mother's arms and absorbed her beauty as a whole. Blind was he in his infancy and in his blissful state to the glassiness that Lydia's eyes had taken on in the months since his birth. 'Such as a child's mind is', thought Lydia, pressing her nose again into the folds of Shelley's peached skin, 'living in the moment'.

Last Night At Somerset House, I Wept

2008-07-21T17:30:00.000+01:00

JN: all is forgiven.