Spooky...

Back from Towersey Festival - we camped for the first time in about 20 years, which was quite a change. Enjoyable to be part of a circle of tented chums, and the weather was kind (apart from a very chilly Saturday night).

Stars of the show for me, again, were The Spooky Men's Chorale (check them out on YouTube if you are not familiar!) I went to the two vocal workshops run by Stephen Taberner (the Spookmeister of this outfit) and was bowled over by his facilitation of the (literally) hundreds of participants. A true master at work.

I am getting increasingly annoyed by over-amplification. The technology of PA systems has moved on, and generally the sound was really high quality. But the guys on the desk seem to want to prove how earthmoving their rigs can be, and they certainly pulled the stops out for some bands. A friend had recommended the Demon Barbers, and I went along expecting, and getting, some great high-energy music.

Problem was, the bass drum was amplified through a huge "subwoofer" which put out levels of sound way beyond comfort. Immediately they started, people began to leave, and after the first number a guy actually shouted out from the audience about the painful thumping. The vocalist said that he couldn't do anything about it from the stage.

I left (along with many others), and on my way out had a word with the guy on the sound desk, who said that I was out of touch with what people wanted(!) Apparently, people enjoy having their brains shaken to a jelly inside their skulls, and their chest cavities resonating in time...

As we retired to our tents nearby, the whole world seemed to vibrate - earplugs made very little difference - it was as if the rattling was happening inside my skull. I'm happy for the loud stuff to be in its proper place - I saw Edward II on one of the other stages (which I think I could rightfully say was more oriented towards younger tastes) and they were quite loud! But I suppose that I want to make a plea for moderation in a venue which is basically for folk music. Ho hum...

Faith restored...

My faith in the risky business of shelling out shedloads of money to see top performers has been restored (see my earlier review of Dylan). We went to see Leonard Cohen last night - and I was totally bowled over. His rapport with his backing group, and with all of us sitting out there in the wind and drizzle, was warm, light and respectful - and his performance beguiling and emotionally powerful.

The whole thing is a very professional, well-rehearsed operation (you can find video from this tour all over YouTube) but he makes it seem immediate yet unhurried: a star with humility. I really don't resent contributing to his pension fund!

Last Straw...

Nipping into Waitrose on Friday evening to see what bargains might be had, I see one of my favourite wholemeal spelt loaves (*) reduced for quick sale. As I prepare to pounce, the Lord Chancellor and Secretary of State for Justice slides quickly in and grabs the bargain before I can reach for it. Jack Straw (for it is he) is probably on his way to his weekend cottage, which is in a village up the road from us, and is obviously in training for a relatively impoverished impending retirement. You read it here first! This reminds me of the first time I met him - it was 1969 or thereabouts, and, as President of the National Union of Students, he was in a meeting I was attending for some reason which now escapes me. After the meeting we wandered down to the House of Commons public gallery (as you could do in those free and easy days) to witness some bit of legislation which had a bearing on students. The proceedings turned out to be quite dull, but suddenly a guy in front of us leaps to his feet, shouts "you bastards!" and jumps off the gallery. He broke his leg. I still don't know what he was protesting about... (*) That's S.P.E.L.T. spelt "LOAVES"

Is this a question?

I've just come across evidence that the much-despised antipodean rising inflection habit has gone full circle and has now been superimposed on written (well, at least on *some* written) discourse (citation: a Freecycle group - sorry, it's a closed group and therefore cannot substantiate with a web ref, he said primly and conscientiously...):

(start quote) ..........................
Hi i am hoping that someone has got some exercise equiptment lurking somewhere that perhaps needs a new home??

I have lost quite a bit of weight and wanted to keep it going with adding some exercise?

Any offers would be fab.

Thanks for reading
...................................(sic)

What is absolutely amazing is that no-one would have dreamed of writing this even 10 years ago - my thesis is that people have just got so used to the sound and feel of saying stuff like this that when they come to the (relatively marginal) job of writing, the inflection is replicated in text. I'm quite fascinated by this...

Experience over hope...

To a Dylan gig in Birmingham last night. I last saw him (from about 300 metres away!) in Earl's Court over 30 years ago, so I was pleased that I had a seat nearer the front this time. But hope drained quickly as the evening started. Dylan seems to have adopted a routine of completely ignoring the audience and, hunched at the side of the stage, routinely pounding on the Hammond as his passably talented backing musicians struggle to inject some musicality into the evening. I suspect that their skills are kept under tight rein so as not to upstage him...

Vocally, it was a game of "guess the track". Often I would recognise a lick or a chord sequence but, despite this, not associate it with the words until the first chorus. It's almost as if he is just lost down a long, oft-rehearsed tunnel of self-parody in a sneering, whining, gutturally unmelodic attempt to put listeners off the scent of recognition. It's all very well developing and evolving as a performer, but this is just taking things too far!

His well-documented separateness (one longtime drummer said that he never left any musical "breadcrumbs" for accompanists to follow) from his fellow-musicians and his complete separation from the audience was sad. People I was with were comparing him with Cohen, who, in exactly the same venue, managed to make an immediate, astonishing, intimate contact.

A disappointment. And not, perhaps, in the way that the guy who famously shouted "JUDAS!!" all those years ago. It's not that I'm against his moving on, or his new techniques, or his bringing new life to old material. I'm not saying that he has betrayed himself, or his fans, or a cause. I suppose I'm pinning my colours to the mast and saying that this emperor has very few clothes left as a live performer. He is running on his reputation (palpable around me last night) - which is massive.

He has been and continues to be one of the great 'pop' singer/songwriter/performers of my lifetime. He is up there with Leonard Cohen, Joni Mitchell, Lennon/McCartney, Loudon Wainwright, Bonnie Raitt, Frank Zappa, James Taylor, Neil Young, Gerry Rafferty, Paul Simon, Van Morrison and the other predictable idols. But...

He is showing signs of running on empty. I liked "Modern Times" - but as I think about it, it probably owes more to the musicians around him and making a special effort for the studio than he doles out to his paying gig customers. I asked myself "why does he do this..?"

He can't (like Cohen) need to build up his retirement pot. He slogs around the world doing his thing, but for what purpose? SURELY he can't be enjoying it? That, I think, is the major reason for my discomfort. There didn't really seem to be a point. He really needs to rest his larynx. It sounds shot to pieces - and he doesn't even attempt to sing, as such - and I reckon that it must be quite painful for him to do so, which is why he resorts to snarling.

I'm beginning to sound like Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells...

Amassing Ammo

I've just handed in three chunky live bullets to the fuzz - they were found (I am a member of a group caring for local paths and public spaces) whilst clearing rubbish alongside the river.











On the same day we also found a driving licence and a handbag (probably discarded after a robbery) complete with credit cards but no cash.

The bullets were in a rusty old tin:













...quite possibly a wartime relic that had become an embarrassment.
















A close-up:









...we also found two shopping trolleys, a car battery, engine oil and enough discarded tins, wrappers and assorted rubbish to fill about twelve large bags.

ps: I hope you liked the title of this post :-)

Brain Scan

Nice work on the Today programme. Steven Rose, the retired OU biologist (one of those old-fashioned maverick profs who also has the advantage of a particular Jewish authority and chutzpah!) was talking about the brain, and whilst talking about MRI scanning, slipped in a speculation about whether the brains of the members of the Israeli cabinet would show up any activity in those areas responsible for moral judgements. Lovely.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/today/hi/today/newsid_7814000/7814946.stm

It's the last (0854) item.