Music to my ears, or how I learned to love the cassette as an emblem of...

There is a goodly chance that I will use this outlet to rant about music, and take - up where I left off some years ago, in telling chums about recently acquired albums and gigs. Years ago, I would make a list within a letter, boring innocent people shitless, and thus earning my place in anorak corner for posterity, or until they threw the purple piece of paper daubed with green ink in the bin. I / we progressed to posting cassettes. This enabled tracks to be passed on. " Home recording is killing music" was a campaign by the record companies. Bollocks. Without it, I would not have a collection of jazz cd's, and would not have seen Miles et al.

Sorting my remaining 200 or so cassettes (having carried out a preliminary cull last year) has caused me to re-discover some gems which I have bought on cd for the first time. Others are either going to landfill, or being dumped onto cd, which brings them back to life in a surprisingly good way.

Last week on a car journey, I happily listened to a cd, taken from a best of jazz-rock cassette, compiled from various vinyl albums over ten years ago. I am sure that I had not played the tape for years. Suddenly The Crusaders, Morrisey Mullen & Nucleus etc were brought back into my life. Gary Boyle anyone? I had forgotten him. So: Vinyl to cassette, and then casette to cd. Recycling. 

Now the rant part of the post. We are encouraged to dump outmoded stuff all the time. I am sure that we are not alone in still using video tape sometimes, even though we have a dvd player, plus the video player/cd recorder. Ok I hear you. I am alone on this one. Shut up Chris!

Some of the old formats still work well. I replaced my fifteen year old stereo amp last week. Of course, it has inputs for a turntable. If we had believed the experts, nobody would be playing LP's in 2010 but they are. A lot.

Earlier in the summer/ characterless season which has, according to the calendar, just passed,  I invested in an Apple ipod. When playing on shuffle, it has been a revelation. I have only loaded rock, pop, classic songwriters and bands, with a small amount of blues and jazz onto it, and that is what I intend to stick with.

The shuffle throws up some real goodies. Tonight while typing this, it threw Jimi, Robin Trower and Stevie Ray in sequence. What are the odds? My ipod and me are going to elope, and make a little family of cadmium batteries and live a blissful life in the woods, where nobody can be cruel to us, mocking her cruel domineering corporate Apple ways.                    And relax. 

The interesting outcome of buying the beguilling little minx, is that I realised that I do not actually play the albums which I think of as my favourites, as often as I think I do. The reason? They all have stinker tracks on them! Bung them onto any player/ compilation minus the stinkers, and everythng changes. Your own radio station is the answer. Two good examples are After the Goldrush and Axis Bold as Love. My edit rules.

The other attraction of the ipod, is that part of the reason for my love of the 12 inch LP, was that twenty/five minutes of one artist or style was - I have always thought, ideal. Over seventy minutes is pushing it. Even I turn off.

A final thought for tonight. I don't know if I am alone in being pissed off about music which I love, being used in television adverts. Sarah had to put a cushion over my face regularly, to stop the expletives flying a couple of years ago, when Goin' up the Country by Canned Heat was used in a butter advert. Dark Side of the Moon was sullied, when I stopped for a piss at a services on the M5 to hear "Breathe" coming over the system in the WH Smiths.aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrgggghhhhhh!

A couple of my unused photographs there, from the Tony Gillam "Untangle the Strings" cd  photo session.

http://www.bizibmusic.com/3.html

See also:

http://passengersintime.blogspot.com/

You can also follow his brother if you are unemployed/on drugs/sad/want something good to read/are fixated by the name Gillam. I met someone who was!!

The Years Go Passing By

Tonight I went to The Robin 2 in Bilston, with playmates Paul & Steve, to see Robin Trower. The first time I have seen the man, having spent a lot of time regretting not going to see him with Jack Bruce a while ago.

Admitting to liking Trower was risky for a while. The poor man's Hendrix etc. But somehow, his music, fuelled by evocative fx, mystic lyrics and killer riffs has stayed on my playlist for a long time. I also realised tonight for the first time, that the drum patterns from his albums, are part of the foundation of my pathetic skin bashing (along with John Densmore and Charlie Watts).

In the interval, I was considering the longevity of Mr. Trower (is there anyone else called Trower?) I recalled that I was given a copy of Twice Removed From Yesterday for my 21st birthday (by chum Dave McGinn). Surely not 37 years ago, I thought. I bought a three cd set recently - which is very cheap- and includes the first album. I can now confirm that it was released 37 years ago. Holy Moses! Will people be going to see current bands in 37 years time? Of course they may do,confirming that I am a fossil in waiting, but I doubt it somehow.

The set was perfect. The gurning was perfect. The sound was perfect,and the audience of course could clap in time. Only hair - loss and wrinkles got in the way. One Strat. for the whole night, and 2 tune-ups. Bliss.

The current vocalist is perfect, as he has the same delivery as the late James Dewar, and the bass and drums were spot on.

Thirty seven years. Thirty seven years.Th....

One week ago, we went to see Gwyn Ashton, with Kev on drums, at The Lock at Wolverley. Frankly, it rivalled tonight's gig. They were exceptional. The set was peppered with surprises, such as Eleanor Rigby, which was a great second encore. An audience which was much smaller than this gig deserved, saw two men playing a free at the door gig, at a level I have seldom seen at major venues and festivals. My brother Paul was sat at my right. His mouth hung open at times. To my right was (guitarist) Steve, who was at times, laughing at the improbability of what we were watching and hearing. A new number, which is a tribute to one of my gtr. heroes ~ Roy Buchanan, went down well with me, and will develop even further I'm sure.

http://www.gwynashton.com/ 

I played harp on Monday night at the open mic, on three numbers with Steve & George. We performed Boom Boom, Dear Doctor (from Beggars Banquet) and All Your Love by Otis Rush. Then I played harp with Tony on Little Old Wine Drinker Me, on which he transposed place names from the USA to Kidderminster and Bewdley. He is a little tinker. A good turnout on a rainy night. However, what I - as an old grumpy don't like, is that the young audience who come to see their friends, leave as soon as they have played. The older folk hang around to chew the fat, and we have all learned from each other, and made new chums as a result. A bit sad for them really. Instant gratification? 

A lot of work goes into having fun when camping. All of the stuff to do with the actual accomodation is sheer hell. The regular check-up for cloud battles, the bafflement about how the damned thing should look when erected - even though we have done this before. So why do it? Because every time we have done it it has been a hoot, and we always win. This was on the Monday morning after the Upton Blues Fest. and prior to the last breakfast at Bonjos. 

I thought Dave Arcari deserved another outing on this blog. So here he is.

Every year since we started our daft weekends under canvas, I have taken a photograph of Steve next to the (various) tents, with a mug/glass/ bottle in hand. It used to be a coffee mug while breakfast sizzled. Then we gave up on cooking, when we (i.e. Steve) began the Upton Blues Festival weekends. When in Upton-upon-Severn, a full English breakfast at Banjos is a must.

The taxi usually gets us back to the site at about 12.30. Nice families are asleep, preparing for a new day of wholesome experiences. What they don't anticipate is the dark sonic rumble of us (mainly me), in the middle of their night. At the end of a blues day, fuelled by beer,wine,and cod philosophy - fuelled by the aforementioned, we have a few glasses of red, whilst bemoaning the whole concept of camping. Our neighbours should see the warning signs. Even positioning our tent in a far corner does not work. Some dipstick still erects their adobe next to us. Maybe a sign saying "unclean " would do it. Knowing our luck, we would get a missionary as a neighbour. 

My favourite shot from our stay in Charmouth. The mist hangs around for a lot of the time.That stretch of beach is popular with fossil hunters, who seem happy to pay a couple of quid to hire a hammer, with which to bash rocks in earnest (which is near Charmouth) in the hope of finding something little and old secreted within. They could have bought a Kinder egg, and the cost of the hammer is less than the cost of an eye patch, which they need after the flying shards take out an eye.

Jools, on the day we went to Weymouth while on holiday. We had been dreading her having the threatened operation to remove another gall stone and her gall bladder, which could have spoiled the holiday. We went to Worcester hospital last week, for Jools to be told that there was no sign of another stone, and that the gall bladder itself had shrunk, and was not worth taking out. This decision resulted from a scan performed in June. Bearing in mind the professional opinion beforehand about an operation, would have entailed six weeks off work (on top of the previous six weeks she had earlier this year). " I was glad to see the back of those leeches" trad arr. A. Hancock. Enough to make one cynical. If it was in one's nature.

This is the lighthouse at Portland Bill. Portland: never in the field of human conflict has one man queued for so long for two 99's. Some people - wearing what I believe we called wind cheaters in the last century, debated at length, upon arrival at the counter, the relative advantages of cups,mugs,milk and the string theorum. If C & A and Wimpey Bars make a come-back, the ripples will start there. You heard it here first.

It was a struggle to find a photo. of me on holiday that my Mom would have approved of.Here you have the R & R version, which would have caused concern for her. One evening on a beach... weird that at the moment I typed that "If Six Was Nine" came on the ipod.