PIL have added another date.
June 4th PIL will play here Then they will play the Isle Of Wight Festival June 12th.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Sunday, Nov 21 at The Scala, London, UK
If you go to The Scala in London this Sunday, you will see the Chiefs of Relief with Paul Cook on drums.
Then you will see Bow Wow Wow.
And then, fingers crossed and bandaged, you will see Adam Ant and The Glitter Band.
Yes. THAT Glitter Band.
Here's Adam in fine form from last night:
And just in case Adam doesn't show up (although my money is that he will show) here is some information about the Ants and The Glitter from John Robb
Then you will see Bow Wow Wow.
And then, fingers crossed and bandaged, you will see Adam Ant and The Glitter Band.
Yes. THAT Glitter Band.
Here's Adam in fine form from last night:
And just in case Adam doesn't show up (although my money is that he will show) here is some information about the Ants and The Glitter from John Robb
Saturday - ATV play The Relentless Garage Highbury with Sham 69
SATURDAY 20 November ATV
(opposite Highbury tube) MARK PERRY will be on stage with ALTERNATIVE TV supporting Sham 69 which is probably the right way round if you want to go before the crowd goes mental and Jimmy shows you his bum.
I understand Sham 69 have made a film. I will investigate.
link to the Relentless Garage for ticket information
(opposite Highbury tube) MARK PERRY will be on stage with ALTERNATIVE TV supporting Sham 69 which is probably the right way round if you want to go before the crowd goes mental and Jimmy shows you his bum.
I understand Sham 69 have made a film. I will investigate.
link to the Relentless Garage for ticket information
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Kevin Cummins and other goings on at the White Columns Gallery Nov 1st
click here to hear Kevin Cummins on the radio.
A good time was had by all at the KEVIN CUMMINS book launch at the White Columns gallery on Horatio street in New York on Monday even tho I read the invitation incorrectly. I told you Bernard Sumner (guitarist from Joy Division and later New Order) was going to be there and have a conversation in the gallery.
Ooops.
The conversation is in the book.
Jay McInerney does the introduction in the book. He wasn't there either but we didn't mind that.
The book is published by Rizzoli and it's a very beautifully paced visual story of Ian Curtis (born Ian Kevin Curtis 15 July 1956). It includes some handwritten songs and set lists and postcards from tour and it knocked me for six to see his young beautiful face.
There was also a rather nice black box of postcards ($40).
Kevin Cummins, (born 14 July 1953) a fellow Brit, was there. He looked natty in his suit and fancy shoes. He signed "Manchester has a lot to answer for." I wanted to tell him that my name was Hulme and ask him to cross out Manchester and put "Hulme" as that is where some of the Curtis photos were taken - notably the ones in the snow (none of the lads wearing enough warm clothes) and on a flyover above a motorway... but it was noisy and I'm not sure that I do have a lot to answer for.
Not as much as Manchester, that's for sure.
Except to say, I did have a psychic flash. I happened to be close to the refreshment table and spied a rather interesting lad who I had a feeling that I knew. I said, "Is your name Stephen?" I was right.
I said, "are you an English printmaker?" and he said "yes".
I could have sworn I'd seen him on Facebook or somewhere. The lad had gone to Harrow for art school and I went to school not far away but he was 15 years younger than me and he doesn't have a facebook page. So it worked out that I had him completely mixed up with someone else but this was a rather fortunate mix up as he happened to be the lad who is
Stephen Fowler who has a few walls of the gallery for his art project which stays up til December 4. I really liked his work and bought his poster.
I also met screenwriter Nick who was escaping his characters for a few days and keeping his friend company on their first trip to New York. Or at least I think it was their first time in New York.
Matthew Higgs (also from Great Britain) pointed to a picture on the wall of Joy Division at band practice. There's a sofa in the background and there's our Matthew, sitting on the sofa. When I turned to look at him it was a bit of a Chim Chimeny moment. It was like he'd stepped out of the photograph and now he was walking around as Director of the space we were in.
Matthew had brought his milk crate of vinyl from Factory Records along. It was a joy (pun intended) to see the needle in the groves. I particularly liked XODUS - the only reggae record Factory put out by English Black Boys.
The soundtrack to the evening also included a dark and gravelly Grace Jones.
Our friends John and Sabine came along. The room was cozy and as we looked around, we all thought of back in the day when clubs were about this many people and how you would just talk to people and how you would say, "where are you going tomorrow?" and hear about another good band playing and probably see the same crowd there when you turned up the next day.
At the end of the night, Matthew played the vinyl Joy Division. I have to admit, it was a bit much. Now that we're so much older than the fresh faced photogenic Ian Curtis, who hanged himself 18 May 1980 at the age of 23, I had to reach for a tissue and leave for some cold autumn air. He would have been 53.
I would have talked to him.
Kevin's photos Joy Division playing
A good time was had by all at the KEVIN CUMMINS book launch at the White Columns gallery on Horatio street in New York on Monday even tho I read the invitation incorrectly. I told you Bernard Sumner (guitarist from Joy Division and later New Order) was going to be there and have a conversation in the gallery.
Ooops.
The conversation is in the book.
Jay McInerney does the introduction in the book. He wasn't there either but we didn't mind that.
The book is published by Rizzoli and it's a very beautifully paced visual story of Ian Curtis (born Ian Kevin Curtis 15 July 1956). It includes some handwritten songs and set lists and postcards from tour and it knocked me for six to see his young beautiful face.
There was also a rather nice black box of postcards ($40).
Kevin Cummins, (born 14 July 1953) a fellow Brit, was there. He looked natty in his suit and fancy shoes. He signed "Manchester has a lot to answer for." I wanted to tell him that my name was Hulme and ask him to cross out Manchester and put "Hulme" as that is where some of the Curtis photos were taken - notably the ones in the snow (none of the lads wearing enough warm clothes) and on a flyover above a motorway... but it was noisy and I'm not sure that I do have a lot to answer for.
Not as much as Manchester, that's for sure.
Except to say, I did have a psychic flash. I happened to be close to the refreshment table and spied a rather interesting lad who I had a feeling that I knew. I said, "Is your name Stephen?" I was right.
I said, "are you an English printmaker?" and he said "yes".
I could have sworn I'd seen him on Facebook or somewhere. The lad had gone to Harrow for art school and I went to school not far away but he was 15 years younger than me and he doesn't have a facebook page. So it worked out that I had him completely mixed up with someone else but this was a rather fortunate mix up as he happened to be the lad who is
Stephen Fowler who has a few walls of the gallery for his art project which stays up til December 4. I really liked his work and bought his poster.
I also met screenwriter Nick who was escaping his characters for a few days and keeping his friend company on their first trip to New York. Or at least I think it was their first time in New York.
Matthew Higgs (also from Great Britain) pointed to a picture on the wall of Joy Division at band practice. There's a sofa in the background and there's our Matthew, sitting on the sofa. When I turned to look at him it was a bit of a Chim Chimeny moment. It was like he'd stepped out of the photograph and now he was walking around as Director of the space we were in.
Matthew had brought his milk crate of vinyl from Factory Records along. It was a joy (pun intended) to see the needle in the groves. I particularly liked XODUS - the only reggae record Factory put out by English Black Boys.
The soundtrack to the evening also included a dark and gravelly Grace Jones.
Our friends John and Sabine came along. The room was cozy and as we looked around, we all thought of back in the day when clubs were about this many people and how you would just talk to people and how you would say, "where are you going tomorrow?" and hear about another good band playing and probably see the same crowd there when you turned up the next day.
At the end of the night, Matthew played the vinyl Joy Division. I have to admit, it was a bit much. Now that we're so much older than the fresh faced photogenic Ian Curtis, who hanged himself 18 May 1980 at the age of 23, I had to reach for a tissue and leave for some cold autumn air. He would have been 53.
I would have talked to him.
Kevin's photos Joy Division playing
oh dear. Genesis has left the building.
This just in...
In the evening 27th October TG members and their associated managements
received two emails from Genesis P-Orridge stating he was no longer
willing to perform in Throbbing Gristle and returned to his home in New York.
Cosey, Sleazy & Chris have concluded that once more, and for the time being,
Throbbing Gristle has Ceased to Exist, at least as a live entity.
Therefore, and with deepest apologies, TG must cancel their scheduled
performance at Archa Theatre, in Prague, Czech Republic on 30th October.
It being too short notice to offer an alternative set.
In order not to disappoint fans of the old quartet, Cosey, Peter & Chris
will perform live under the name X-TG at Arena Del Sole, Bologna, Italy
on 2nd November & at Casa Musica, Porto, Portugal on 5th November.
We hope fans will appreciate and enjoy this new project and the trio is looking
forward to performing exciting new and radical electronic musics together.
Full refunds are available at the point of purchase if required.
as said:
Industrial Records Ltd, London. 29th October 2010
In the evening 27th October TG members and their associated managements
received two emails from Genesis P-Orridge stating he was no longer
willing to perform in Throbbing Gristle and returned to his home in New York.
Cosey, Sleazy & Chris have concluded that once more, and for the time being,
Throbbing Gristle has Ceased to Exist, at least as a live entity.
Therefore, and with deepest apologies, TG must cancel their scheduled
performance at Archa Theatre, in Prague, Czech Republic on 30th October.
It being too short notice to offer an alternative set.
In order not to disappoint fans of the old quartet, Cosey, Peter & Chris
will perform live under the name X-TG at Arena Del Sole, Bologna, Italy
on 2nd November & at Casa Musica, Porto, Portugal on 5th November.
We hope fans will appreciate and enjoy this new project and the trio is looking
forward to performing exciting new and radical electronic musics together.
Full refunds are available at the point of purchase if required.
as said:
Industrial Records Ltd, London. 29th October 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
One Night Only - Monday Nov 1st JOY DIVISION photographs by NME photographer KEVIN CUMMINS
Kevin Cummins photo of Ian Curtis, Hulme, Manchester.
WHITE COLUMNS GALLERY will be open on MONDAY NOV 1st
for a One Night ONLY exhibition
of "JOY DIVISION" photographs by NME photographer KEVIN CUMMINS
AND there's a book which Mr Cummins will be available to sign.
It is a Rizzoli book and costs $45.00.
I gather there's an introduction by JAY MCINERNEY (wrote that book "Bright Lights, Big City") and LIVE IN THE GALLERY will be a conversation with BERNARD SUMNER (guitarist in Joy Division, and singer/guitarist in New Order).
FACTORY RECORDS SOUNDTRACK BY MATTHEW HIGGS
DRINKS AND REFRESHMENTS
WHITE COLUMNS Gallery is at 320 WEST 13TH STREET but the entrance is on HORATIO STREET BETWEEN 8TH AVENUE + HUDSON
NEW YORK 10014
Mick Rock at CBGB's gallery a.k.a Morrison Hotel
My friend Tim invited me to The Bowery last Tuesday.
That might not sound like the sort of place a gentleman like Tim should take a refined British woman like myself after dark but The Bowery is a little different these days. For one thing, it's got great tarmac if you are a limo driver. For another, there are luxury hotels and apartment buildings and here we were in October, and people were eating on the pavement. And I mean at tables. On chairs. With waiters bringing out their fabulous dinners from a restaurant.
That shock over. We arrive at CBGB's Gallery. (I'm going to call it that. Tim accidentally called it that. Everyone I know of a certain age is going to call it that) but the awning now reads "Morrison Hotel Gallery."
That shock over, I recognized a huge thunderbird type car parked outside as one that belongs to a man called Berndt. I remember his name because the car has no paint and looks like it's burned. The engine was warm.
There was a line outside.
Of people.
Huh?
We went to the door and noticed a HUGE crowd inside.
Man at door (with clipboard): "Would you like to be in the list?"
Tim: "How long is the wait?"
MaD: "about 5 minutes"...
Tim: "Okay."
We joined the queue. Tim called Godlis and reported the situation. Godlis was on his way. Talking of legends, I noticed that the gallery space was for rent and I know this because I looked up and saw a sign that read "LEGENDARY REAL ESTATE" with an arrow pointing to the awning below along with a number to call.
A few minutes later, the man with the clipboard at the door, came down the line and got us. As if we were special.
It was so peculiar.
This was for MICK ROCK's photo exhibit.
Maybe it was a fire hazard thing.
I was confused.
I was used to waiting for tables and to get into disco's but not to a photo show.
There's a first time for everything.
We joined the shoal of people who roamed into the space. Passed a sign that said "NO PHOTOGRAPHY". I beg to differ, sir.
I saw beeeeeeeautiful photographs of Bryan Ferry and Iggy Popp and Freddie Mercury behind some very interesting looking punters. I got a very pleasant smile and hello in passing from a particularly interesting man with grey ringlets. And talking of grey-haired chaps, not just one grey haired bloke had his photo taken in front of a photo of a man on the bonnet of a long car I couldn't see the label as standing in front of that was Mr. Rock himself.
Mr. Rock was being filmed. People were saying hello. I kept my distance and took this terrible picture of him. As you can see, he has his eyes shut. That's why he gets paid the big bucks. And pounds sterling.
Here is one of Mick Rock's classic photos that was in the window. Although, as Suzi remarked when she saw it, "David Bowie ATE FOOD back then????"
When we came out, across the street in his sideways striped t-shirt and black trainers with white sides, was Godlis.
What an honour to meet up with him. While Godlis was discussing his strategy for Going In to see the show, John Espinosa swung over and gushed "it's great to be here to see you in front of CBGB's where you took all those brilliant photos" and I felt exactly the same. Thank goodness there's another gushy fan out there who said all the gushy stuff before I did. Godlis was a gent and had his photo taken with each of us in turn. John Espinosa took this photo of me and Mr. Godlis.
Anyway - here is Godlis' pictures from back in the day so you can get a sense of what a great time warp moment it was (see photo of Patti Smith to the right). And here is my terrible photo of John Espinosa who was talking to a band called The Young Ones. The drummer is the one closest to me (nat). John is in the suit on the right.
Then we went on to wish Bob Gruen a happy birthday at his bash down the block.
Here's Tim's rather good diary entry.
That might not sound like the sort of place a gentleman like Tim should take a refined British woman like myself after dark but The Bowery is a little different these days. For one thing, it's got great tarmac if you are a limo driver. For another, there are luxury hotels and apartment buildings and here we were in October, and people were eating on the pavement. And I mean at tables. On chairs. With waiters bringing out their fabulous dinners from a restaurant.
That shock over. We arrive at CBGB's Gallery. (I'm going to call it that. Tim accidentally called it that. Everyone I know of a certain age is going to call it that) but the awning now reads "Morrison Hotel Gallery."
That shock over, I recognized a huge thunderbird type car parked outside as one that belongs to a man called Berndt. I remember his name because the car has no paint and looks like it's burned. The engine was warm.
There was a line outside.
Of people.
Huh?
We went to the door and noticed a HUGE crowd inside.
Man at door (with clipboard): "Would you like to be in the list?"
Tim: "How long is the wait?"
MaD: "about 5 minutes"...
Tim: "Okay."
We joined the queue. Tim called Godlis and reported the situation. Godlis was on his way. Talking of legends, I noticed that the gallery space was for rent and I know this because I looked up and saw a sign that read "LEGENDARY REAL ESTATE" with an arrow pointing to the awning below along with a number to call.
A few minutes later, the man with the clipboard at the door, came down the line and got us. As if we were special.
It was so peculiar.
This was for MICK ROCK's photo exhibit.
Maybe it was a fire hazard thing.
I was confused.
I was used to waiting for tables and to get into disco's but not to a photo show.
There's a first time for everything.
We joined the shoal of people who roamed into the space. Passed a sign that said "NO PHOTOGRAPHY". I beg to differ, sir.
I saw beeeeeeeautiful photographs of Bryan Ferry and Iggy Popp and Freddie Mercury behind some very interesting looking punters. I got a very pleasant smile and hello in passing from a particularly interesting man with grey ringlets. And talking of grey-haired chaps, not just one grey haired bloke had his photo taken in front of a photo of a man on the bonnet of a long car I couldn't see the label as standing in front of that was Mr. Rock himself.
Mr. Rock was being filmed. People were saying hello. I kept my distance and took this terrible picture of him. As you can see, he has his eyes shut. That's why he gets paid the big bucks. And pounds sterling.
Here is one of Mick Rock's classic photos that was in the window. Although, as Suzi remarked when she saw it, "David Bowie ATE FOOD back then????"
When we came out, across the street in his sideways striped t-shirt and black trainers with white sides, was Godlis.
What an honour to meet up with him. While Godlis was discussing his strategy for Going In to see the show, John Espinosa swung over and gushed "it's great to be here to see you in front of CBGB's where you took all those brilliant photos" and I felt exactly the same. Thank goodness there's another gushy fan out there who said all the gushy stuff before I did. Godlis was a gent and had his photo taken with each of us in turn. John Espinosa took this photo of me and Mr. Godlis.
Anyway - here is Godlis' pictures from back in the day so you can get a sense of what a great time warp moment it was (see photo of Patti Smith to the right). And here is my terrible photo of John Espinosa who was talking to a band called The Young Ones. The drummer is the one closest to me (nat). John is in the suit on the right.
Then we went on to wish Bob Gruen a happy birthday at his bash down the block.
Here's Tim's rather good diary entry.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
20 10 2010. Ari Up has died.
i heard last night from my dear friend, Bryan who worked with Ari that Ari has passed through the velvet rope.
I understand Ari had cancer.
Ari Up was the lead singer of The Slits. If you want to hear what girls sound like inside themselves, you can play songs from their album "CUT" (and you can thank Dennis Bovell for the production) -- I am immediately back in London, looking at copies of Spare Rib (a feminist newspaper at the time) on the newstand, just growing into myself and Ari - years younger than me - saying things out loud that told me she was in this with me. In our doctor marten shoes instead of high heels. Taking our ties off as soon as we could after school. Home to records and out to parties and clubs and punk rockers.
At the end of the seventies, at the end of Portobello Road, under the concrete of the Westway - there was a street market - boxes of records. Where I got a copy of Dr Alimantado's album - where I passed Vivien Goldman in the street who raised a peace sign and said, "Jah Works" - with the backdrop of loud loud reggae and dub playing loudly and echoing. Where you could talk to the Jamaicans from the carribean who were claiming their turf there and then. The brackish black and white coming together. Exciting. In my memory the dub and the rumbling trains hum round me and tingled my feet in my boots scuffing on the pavement. Your punk rock badges on your school blazer. Hand made things. Jossticks. Indian scarves. The feeling that Ari Up was round here somewhere in this crowd of Rastas and smoke.
I knew she lived in Notting Hill back then.
The Slits were a delight to watch.
A shock and a delight.
A tingle and a terror.
A surprise and a thrill.
GIRLS PLAYING
ENGLISH GIRLS PLAYING
ENGLISH GIRLS TALKING ABOUT BEING GIRLS
Ari will always wear a smile and be a scamp in my memory.
I think of her when I don't wash my hair and it goes really messy.
Which I love. And then I think of that song typical girls.
And then I brush my hair.
Well.
If I have too.
Eventually.
I understand Ari had cancer.
Ari Up was the lead singer of The Slits. If you want to hear what girls sound like inside themselves, you can play songs from their album "CUT" (and you can thank Dennis Bovell for the production) -- I am immediately back in London, looking at copies of Spare Rib (a feminist newspaper at the time) on the newstand, just growing into myself and Ari - years younger than me - saying things out loud that told me she was in this with me. In our doctor marten shoes instead of high heels. Taking our ties off as soon as we could after school. Home to records and out to parties and clubs and punk rockers.
At the end of the seventies, at the end of Portobello Road, under the concrete of the Westway - there was a street market - boxes of records. Where I got a copy of Dr Alimantado's album - where I passed Vivien Goldman in the street who raised a peace sign and said, "Jah Works" - with the backdrop of loud loud reggae and dub playing loudly and echoing. Where you could talk to the Jamaicans from the carribean who were claiming their turf there and then. The brackish black and white coming together. Exciting. In my memory the dub and the rumbling trains hum round me and tingled my feet in my boots scuffing on the pavement. Your punk rock badges on your school blazer. Hand made things. Jossticks. Indian scarves. The feeling that Ari Up was round here somewhere in this crowd of Rastas and smoke.
I knew she lived in Notting Hill back then.
The Slits were a delight to watch.
A shock and a delight.
A tingle and a terror.
A surprise and a thrill.
GIRLS PLAYING
ENGLISH GIRLS PLAYING
ENGLISH GIRLS TALKING ABOUT BEING GIRLS
Ari will always wear a smile and be a scamp in my memory.
I think of her when I don't wash my hair and it goes really messy.
Which I love. And then I think of that song typical girls.
And then I brush my hair.
Well.
If I have too.
Eventually.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Big Sexy Noise
should you want to know what a big sexy noise is click here
Lydia Lunch is stuck in NYC. Lydia was supposed to go and play with The Only Ones in Brest.
The French General Strike has delayed her Air France flight. That must be annoying.
If I was on strike, I'd want to hear Lydia Lunch and The Only Ones. I heard Lydia Lunch play the night elvis presley died* (yes, I'm that old. She on the other hand is younger than me.)
The Only Ones are the BEST BAND EVER.
*you can read this story under "keith moon's birthday below.
Lydia Lunch is stuck in NYC. Lydia was supposed to go and play with The Only Ones in Brest.
The French General Strike has delayed her Air France flight. That must be annoying.
If I was on strike, I'd want to hear Lydia Lunch and The Only Ones. I heard Lydia Lunch play the night elvis presley died* (yes, I'm that old. She on the other hand is younger than me.)
The Only Ones are the BEST BAND EVER.
*you can read this story under "keith moon's birthday below.
Loud Flash
I was included in a black cab jaunt from Clapham Common to the building that used to be the Museum of Mankind, next to the BURLINGTON ARCADE - if you can believe this - to see an exhibition of punk rock posters and leaflets. Organized by a rather posh bloke called Toby Mott.
In the cab was Mark Stewart from the Pop Group and the lovely Shirin, who works for Future Noise Music.
Shirin stopped the cab so we could ron-day-voo with Poly Styrene who told me she had just been on the train with Billy Bragg who she hadn't seen in ages.
If I remember correctly, Poly said she is making a record with Big Youth and working with Future Noise.
Poly told me that she never stopped making music. For a few years she rested up with the Krishnas, who had a recording studio, and she was able to record some music there which, from the sounds of it, healed a lot of the turbulence that hit her after her success with X Ray Spex.
Poly still frequents the temples for some solice and meditation. It seems to be doing her the world of good. Poly looked fantastic. Radiant. It was GREAT to see her looking well (sans braces or, in American, without her retainer).
There were lots of flyers with X Ray Spex on:
We also spotted a very fit Adam Ant (nice hat)
as well as Spizz from SpizzOil.
It was lovely to be in a room with some old punks from back in the day.
The show had a bit of a wonky edge to it. It said in the liner notes on the wall that the National Front posters and Bulldog magazines (the "zine" of the national front) were there to "contextualise" the show.
That got a big "huh" from most of the punks.
I wasn't the only one who got the impression that Young Mott was implying that he'd been to all the gigs on the wall and collected the flyers himself.
When I mentioned what a big collection this was, a number of Ebay sellers in the room pointed out that certain posters had been bought on Ebay quite recently.
I don't know if you were one of the 40 people invited to the round table discussion regarding the show, were you? I hear the panel included the chappie who wrote The Sloane Ranger Handbook. Jolly Good, I suppose. [picture of girl splaying hands].
I said cheerio to Mark and Poly.
On the way to the train, I had to admire again the Ostriches not being Ostriches in the Louis Vuitton windows in New Bond Street:
OOooH! Got a brand new bag!
Monday, October 4, 2010
Ring in the new year with THE POP GROUP and SONIC YOUTH
The Pop Group are in the studio and have announced two new datesS
30th December - Manchester Apollo and a London New Years Eve - 31st December 2010
30th December - Manchester Apollo and a London New Years Eve - 31st December 2010
Thursday, September 30, 2010
ATV - Mark Perry to play Relentless Garage Nov 20
ALTERNATIVE TV have announced TWO DATES
November 20th - LONDON's Relentless Garage.
December 11th - BRIGHTON - The Lecturn.
November 20th - LONDON's Relentless Garage.
December 11th - BRIGHTON - The Lecturn.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Pop Group at the Garage, Sept 11 & 12th 2010
The Pop Group had two London dates to play the ATP at the Garage in Highbury. Their website posted Paris first on 6th September, and then Bologna and Turin. I posted a note to Mark Stewart on Facebook offering to start the dancing in Turin, serve drinks on the bus, hold the lyrics up backstage... but with no reply and no dates scheduled for New York, where I live these days, I headed to JFK.
I got tickets for both London shows and booked a B&B in Kings X close to the Cathedral that is St Pancreas station, now home to Eurostar and Marks & Spencers. Back in the day that place was a spooky Goth hall video-makers got for a discount. I was to pass by the Costa coffee and swanky upscale restaurant for the tube, like a magic carpet ride, one stop to Highbury.
Strangely, on board my American Airlines flight to Heathrow was none other than Bruce Martin - drummer for the Tom Tom Club. He was sitting with accordian player traveling to Cork to play a wedding. (Long may they love) He told me he'd recently played a 40th anniversary date with the Tom Tom Club. That made The Pop Group's first gig after 30 years seem a little pre-mature.
I have to admit that I did see Bruce Smith drumming for PIL in New York's Terminal 5 in May, this year. When Johnny Rotten asked us to "clap along becaues I need help keeping time" it was as if a dart flew out of my head and pointing at Smith said THAT'S WHY YOU HAVE BRUCE SMITH who, that night, was riding 3 horses at once and I left that gig so super happy....
When Johnny was singing "Anger is an energy" I was swaing in the crowd full of love. Yes. I hate to say it. Love. Like a hippy. Love. I LOVED HIM. I loved him. I loved Bruce. I loved the guitarist with the pointy nose. I loved the bass player wearing a kilt and a PIL t-shirt.
My friend Kath, a Bristol gal with good recall, came with me to the 9/11 show. Her Bristol of the late 1970's was going out as often as she could to any pub or club she could get in to - when every night was band night. And going to parties when Gareth Sager and Mark Stewart would turn up wearing paper bags on their heads with faces drawn on them a la Saul Steinberg. And it was, you know, "Oh - thre's Gareht. He's in a band. He's being arty." Maximum Joy.
She went to school with Bruce Smith's sister and told me his was a wild and beatiful Bristol home with a room of African masks. His dad was an American painter. And ARTIST painter, not a house painter. His mother offered you cigarettes and COFFEE.
And Mark Stewart's bedroom floor back then, when you stepped in, was covered in photographs he'd ripped from books - photos of Artaud? A Coun. Evil men and poets. You had to watch how you crossed the room that you didn't slip on the glossy pages in your socks.
And lots of singles and a portable record player. And American singles with no centers to them. IMPORTS. THere was always a thirst with this band. An interest in the word. In the world. In that noise. That slap. That bang. That tap. An intereste in things scritti and political. Mixing it all up. You didn't walk down the street listening to your mix on your iPod blocking out the world. You blended with it. And Bristol bands were doing that. There was funk. There were white boys playing it. There was Rock against Racism. There was black and white together. And we opened the door from the mini bar into the main room at The Garage - there it was - that old familiar reggae. I almost turned round to ask Vivien Goldman what it was.
The venue holds 600 people and I believe it was sold out on Saturday. With no starter band we were going to get a pure experience.
Crowd:
Beardy blokes. Some grey hair. Some young boys with young girlfriends hanging on their arms checking their msgs and Apps.
A young lad in a suit who I asked "What brings you here?" and he told me he'd got a naughty download but he'd also paid money for a Pop Group record and he liked it. It was intelligent and he liked political things.
I saw Viv and Tessa from The Slits but not for long as Viv headed straight to the front to start the dancing.
There were some lazer looks of love as I scanned the room. I recognized a glint in the ye here and there, if not the face...
9:15pm. The violin strings of "Somewhere my love" - i think might be the theme to Dr Zhivago...
BRUCE SMITH was first on the stage in his white jacket. My hero, as you've gathered. There was a third young lad on guitar I didn't recognize. No Underwood. No Waddington. [Is it true Simon Underwood is playing with Lily Allen these days?]
Dan Castis followed Bruce on - now tough and muscly in his red Warhol t-shirt.
There was a guitar tech with blonde dreads agains the wall on the far side. He tuned and paused with a guitar for Gareth Sager who headed straight to an electric piano and started playing it like a man brushing dust off it left from last century.
Then Sager took his guitar.
And then the needle hit the groove and there was light.
Out flashed the beginning riff to WE ARE ALL PROSTITUTES and MARK STEWART flew into the mike with the lyric. They were here with that familiar haunted house yell and roller coaster clatter.
The set went from LOUD to LOUDER - I dont' know if there are even knobs o nthe baord these days but whateaver he was doing, Charlie The Soundman got it spot on.
It might hurt but their sound was tunneling through rubble from the past 30 years and brought them to the surface FAST maaaaaaan. Fiercesome. Exciting. Measured. After a while you're not sure if the music is inside or outside your head. You have to let go. The Pop Group is a band that rattles you. You feel in danger. You tense up. That won't help you. You can't be afraid.
In the powerful version of Saturdays THIEF OF FIRE, Mr. Stewart took the mike away from his mouth and stood with his mouth open allowing the dub vocal to make it appear that his words were still rolling out. Kath saw an angry landlord barking for his money. I had a flashback to a painting by Francis Bacon of a Pope having a tantrum.
FORCES OF OPPRESSION Gareth stole Pere Ubu's clarinet and strangled til it squealed to be let go and back to his guitar.
Sager often played like his strings were too hot and/or like he was trying to set them on fire by rubbing his strings and his plectrum together. Yeah - he looked older but as we all said in the dust after the show OLD is the NEW Alive, isn't it. There's premium gallons of rythym and action in the man. He often appeared to FLY to the front of the stage in the manner of a caged bird, and he'd be pulling his strings at us rather than pull his hair out.
Sometimes Sager turned his back while Mark was pacing or bouncing or boxing or bending double, screaming or (Sunday) singing straight into the audeince CCTV cameras.
Bruce's coat came off soon in to the set.
He looked like he was enjoying himself so much.
I can't tell you what a joy it is to watch him.
It's a joyful catch-you-out, pay-attention drumming style. It's well rehearsed. It's easy but then an odd parra diddle smack won't throw you off exactly, it'll just wiggle you sideways. The last song I was dancing from the inside out. He makes it look like he's going to play til he can't do it any more. And he sings too.
Halfway through the show, the lad in the suit got me and shook my by my shoulders "YOU ASKED ME WHY I'M HERE! IT'S THIS! YOU JUST DON'T HEAR MUSIC LIKES THIS ANY WHERE EVER!!!" He was very excited. Or maybe we were dancing. Kiss The Book.
My photos are mostly from after the show on Sunday night. A beaming Dennis Bovell (recorder of The Slits) - looking healthy and happy and GOURGEUS in his green track suit top. Me with band members. But I just don't recognize myself. It's like the pictures are from some time machine. Tardis Ride. Future... OH. No. It's me. Now.
The finish line was clocked as 10:30pm GMT.
On Saturday I managed to grab the young guitarist who was first onto the dance floor from the dressing room at the end of the show. I asked him his name. He said, Alexi. I asked him how he was feeling. He was in a sort of excstacy. He said, "I'm playing with legends. They are legends in their own time!" and that made me smile. He was playing along side them. His Fender and Gareth's Fender Jazzmaster...
So the set list:
We are All Prostitutes
Words Disobey Me
Colour Blind (correct spelling there, thank you)
Thief of Fire
Trap
She's Beyond Good and Evil
Snese
KISS THE BOOK (my personal favourite on Sunday)
Forces of Opposition
and of course WE ARE TIME
What else can I tell you?
The difference between the shows?
Saturday the room was packed. Expectant. The band totally present. The encore transcendant.
Bruce and Dan came back together on drum and bass - and then Jason, adding Gareth, crowned by Stewart. Giddy making. Sunday. I would say the crowd on sunday was boozier. Mark cajoled them along. There were more CCTV camera-kids. Every time they were held aloft, Stewart would sing RIGHT INTO THEM.
Sunday my highlight was KISS THE BOOK when Stewart became full of visuals for me again. I don't know how that happens. Suddenly he was a ferocious Angry Catholic Dad or an evil maniac scientist. I can't help mentioning here that the Pope is supposed to visit London this upcoming weekend. KISS THE BOOK.
Yes - I bought the t-shirt. I bought two.
Oh! and did I mention that i was guested in on Sunday by Dick O'Dell, their first manager. He and I had dinner beforehand where he told me Bat For Lashes are back in the studio for their third album
He also told me a good story about managing The Slits when The Slits played BONDS NYC in the 80's with The Clash. I believe they played 5 in a row. I was at one of those shows. I can't remember which one. Dick couldn't remember if it was 5 or not either. What he did remember was staying at the Iriquois Hotel and stomping on the cockroaches. He also remembered he went back to the hotel with Bernie Rhodes to wait for the men with the money. Two men came to the room with carrier bags of cash. Apparently it came up short and after counting it, Dick said so. The Men In Black flashed their belts and said, @no it isn't@ and thankfully, our hero Mr. O'Dell saw the guns and manated to refrain Bernie from requesting a recount. And went back to stomping on the cockroaches.
Dick was the first person to take me to an art gallery. I even went to art school after his opening of that door to me. And on a number of occasions, he was kind enough to drop a sock out of his London flat with his keys in so I didn't have to walk home in London in the middle of the night after a gig in my mohair sweater and my PVC trousers.
What else can I tell you?
There was a heckler. "Why aren't you playing Bristol?"
Mark Stewart didn't answer.
Has Bristol got an airport yet?
I got tickets for both London shows and booked a B&B in Kings X close to the Cathedral that is St Pancreas station, now home to Eurostar and Marks & Spencers. Back in the day that place was a spooky Goth hall video-makers got for a discount. I was to pass by the Costa coffee and swanky upscale restaurant for the tube, like a magic carpet ride, one stop to Highbury.
Strangely, on board my American Airlines flight to Heathrow was none other than Bruce Martin - drummer for the Tom Tom Club. He was sitting with accordian player traveling to Cork to play a wedding. (Long may they love) He told me he'd recently played a 40th anniversary date with the Tom Tom Club. That made The Pop Group's first gig after 30 years seem a little pre-mature.
I have to admit that I did see Bruce Smith drumming for PIL in New York's Terminal 5 in May, this year. When Johnny Rotten asked us to "clap along becaues I need help keeping time" it was as if a dart flew out of my head and pointing at Smith said THAT'S WHY YOU HAVE BRUCE SMITH who, that night, was riding 3 horses at once and I left that gig so super happy....
When Johnny was singing "Anger is an energy" I was swaing in the crowd full of love. Yes. I hate to say it. Love. Like a hippy. Love. I LOVED HIM. I loved him. I loved Bruce. I loved the guitarist with the pointy nose. I loved the bass player wearing a kilt and a PIL t-shirt.
My friend Kath, a Bristol gal with good recall, came with me to the 9/11 show. Her Bristol of the late 1970's was going out as often as she could to any pub or club she could get in to - when every night was band night. And going to parties when Gareth Sager and Mark Stewart would turn up wearing paper bags on their heads with faces drawn on them a la Saul Steinberg. And it was, you know, "Oh - thre's Gareht. He's in a band. He's being arty." Maximum Joy.
She went to school with Bruce Smith's sister and told me his was a wild and beatiful Bristol home with a room of African masks. His dad was an American painter. And ARTIST painter, not a house painter. His mother offered you cigarettes and COFFEE.
And Mark Stewart's bedroom floor back then, when you stepped in, was covered in photographs he'd ripped from books - photos of Artaud? A Coun. Evil men and poets. You had to watch how you crossed the room that you didn't slip on the glossy pages in your socks.
And lots of singles and a portable record player. And American singles with no centers to them. IMPORTS. THere was always a thirst with this band. An interest in the word. In the world. In that noise. That slap. That bang. That tap. An intereste in things scritti and political. Mixing it all up. You didn't walk down the street listening to your mix on your iPod blocking out the world. You blended with it. And Bristol bands were doing that. There was funk. There were white boys playing it. There was Rock against Racism. There was black and white together. And we opened the door from the mini bar into the main room at The Garage - there it was - that old familiar reggae. I almost turned round to ask Vivien Goldman what it was.
The venue holds 600 people and I believe it was sold out on Saturday. With no starter band we were going to get a pure experience.
Crowd:
Beardy blokes. Some grey hair. Some young boys with young girlfriends hanging on their arms checking their msgs and Apps.
A young lad in a suit who I asked "What brings you here?" and he told me he'd got a naughty download but he'd also paid money for a Pop Group record and he liked it. It was intelligent and he liked political things.
I saw Viv and Tessa from The Slits but not for long as Viv headed straight to the front to start the dancing.
There were some lazer looks of love as I scanned the room. I recognized a glint in the ye here and there, if not the face...
9:15pm. The violin strings of "Somewhere my love" - i think might be the theme to Dr Zhivago...
BRUCE SMITH was first on the stage in his white jacket. My hero, as you've gathered. There was a third young lad on guitar I didn't recognize. No Underwood. No Waddington. [Is it true Simon Underwood is playing with Lily Allen these days?]
Dan Castis followed Bruce on - now tough and muscly in his red Warhol t-shirt.
There was a guitar tech with blonde dreads agains the wall on the far side. He tuned and paused with a guitar for Gareth Sager who headed straight to an electric piano and started playing it like a man brushing dust off it left from last century.
Then Sager took his guitar.
And then the needle hit the groove and there was light.
Out flashed the beginning riff to WE ARE ALL PROSTITUTES and MARK STEWART flew into the mike with the lyric. They were here with that familiar haunted house yell and roller coaster clatter.
The set went from LOUD to LOUDER - I dont' know if there are even knobs o nthe baord these days but whateaver he was doing, Charlie The Soundman got it spot on.
It might hurt but their sound was tunneling through rubble from the past 30 years and brought them to the surface FAST maaaaaaan. Fiercesome. Exciting. Measured. After a while you're not sure if the music is inside or outside your head. You have to let go. The Pop Group is a band that rattles you. You feel in danger. You tense up. That won't help you. You can't be afraid.
In the powerful version of Saturdays THIEF OF FIRE, Mr. Stewart took the mike away from his mouth and stood with his mouth open allowing the dub vocal to make it appear that his words were still rolling out. Kath saw an angry landlord barking for his money. I had a flashback to a painting by Francis Bacon of a Pope having a tantrum.
FORCES OF OPPRESSION Gareth stole Pere Ubu's clarinet and strangled til it squealed to be let go and back to his guitar.
Sager often played like his strings were too hot and/or like he was trying to set them on fire by rubbing his strings and his plectrum together. Yeah - he looked older but as we all said in the dust after the show OLD is the NEW Alive, isn't it. There's premium gallons of rythym and action in the man. He often appeared to FLY to the front of the stage in the manner of a caged bird, and he'd be pulling his strings at us rather than pull his hair out.
Sometimes Sager turned his back while Mark was pacing or bouncing or boxing or bending double, screaming or (Sunday) singing straight into the audeince CCTV cameras.
Bruce's coat came off soon in to the set.
He looked like he was enjoying himself so much.
I can't tell you what a joy it is to watch him.
It's a joyful catch-you-out, pay-attention drumming style. It's well rehearsed. It's easy but then an odd parra diddle smack won't throw you off exactly, it'll just wiggle you sideways. The last song I was dancing from the inside out. He makes it look like he's going to play til he can't do it any more. And he sings too.
Halfway through the show, the lad in the suit got me and shook my by my shoulders "YOU ASKED ME WHY I'M HERE! IT'S THIS! YOU JUST DON'T HEAR MUSIC LIKES THIS ANY WHERE EVER!!!" He was very excited. Or maybe we were dancing. Kiss The Book.
My photos are mostly from after the show on Sunday night. A beaming Dennis Bovell (recorder of The Slits) - looking healthy and happy and GOURGEUS in his green track suit top. Me with band members. But I just don't recognize myself. It's like the pictures are from some time machine. Tardis Ride. Future... OH. No. It's me. Now.
The finish line was clocked as 10:30pm GMT.
On Saturday I managed to grab the young guitarist who was first onto the dance floor from the dressing room at the end of the show. I asked him his name. He said, Alexi. I asked him how he was feeling. He was in a sort of excstacy. He said, "I'm playing with legends. They are legends in their own time!" and that made me smile. He was playing along side them. His Fender and Gareth's Fender Jazzmaster...
So the set list:
We are All Prostitutes
Words Disobey Me
Colour Blind (correct spelling there, thank you)
Thief of Fire
Trap
She's Beyond Good and Evil
Snese
KISS THE BOOK (my personal favourite on Sunday)
Forces of Opposition
and of course WE ARE TIME
What else can I tell you?
The difference between the shows?
Saturday the room was packed. Expectant. The band totally present. The encore transcendant.
Bruce and Dan came back together on drum and bass - and then Jason, adding Gareth, crowned by Stewart. Giddy making. Sunday. I would say the crowd on sunday was boozier. Mark cajoled them along. There were more CCTV camera-kids. Every time they were held aloft, Stewart would sing RIGHT INTO THEM.
Sunday my highlight was KISS THE BOOK when Stewart became full of visuals for me again. I don't know how that happens. Suddenly he was a ferocious Angry Catholic Dad or an evil maniac scientist. I can't help mentioning here that the Pope is supposed to visit London this upcoming weekend. KISS THE BOOK.
Yes - I bought the t-shirt. I bought two.
Oh! and did I mention that i was guested in on Sunday by Dick O'Dell, their first manager. He and I had dinner beforehand where he told me Bat For Lashes are back in the studio for their third album
He also told me a good story about managing The Slits when The Slits played BONDS NYC in the 80's with The Clash. I believe they played 5 in a row. I was at one of those shows. I can't remember which one. Dick couldn't remember if it was 5 or not either. What he did remember was staying at the Iriquois Hotel and stomping on the cockroaches. He also remembered he went back to the hotel with Bernie Rhodes to wait for the men with the money. Two men came to the room with carrier bags of cash. Apparently it came up short and after counting it, Dick said so. The Men In Black flashed their belts and said, @no it isn't@ and thankfully, our hero Mr. O'Dell saw the guns and manated to refrain Bernie from requesting a recount. And went back to stomping on the cockroaches.
Dick was the first person to take me to an art gallery. I even went to art school after his opening of that door to me. And on a number of occasions, he was kind enough to drop a sock out of his London flat with his keys in so I didn't have to walk home in London in the middle of the night after a gig in my mohair sweater and my PVC trousers.
What else can I tell you?
There was a heckler. "Why aren't you playing Bristol?"
Mark Stewart didn't answer.
Has Bristol got an airport yet?
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
August 26 - Happy 72nd birthday to Jet Black
Jet Black played drums with The Stranglers.
His first name is Brian Duffy.
The Stranglers were a little older than most bands I saw. The bass player had that scary stratt noise that felt like someone was twanging your rib cage. And I don't mean tickling. I think I remember hearing that the singer had been to prison. It took me a few pass bys to actually stop in and see them close up. I don't know what I was thinking. It wasn't like they were the only criminals we knew. And after all, it was well known that the Sex Pistols had nicked David Bowie's gear... Maybe I heard something of a childcatcher in Cornwalls' growly voice.
Had I known the drummer owned 4 ice cream vans and an off-licence in Guildford, called 'The Jackpot' and also owned one of the earliest home brewing equipment companies, at the time of a vogue in home brewing (thank you wikipedia), I would have said, "oh well then..." and strolled right on in.
Mr. Black met Hugh Cornwell after reading an advertisement in the Melody Maker and joined The Stranglers in 1974.
Mr. Black was 72 last week. Happy returns of the day to him.
Here's some good footage of a bright sunny day out in Battersea Park in 1978. I can't say I was there either. Anyway, there's a bit of everything. A zoom in on our birthday boy at the drum kit; Mr Cornwall's guitar solo (pardon, Yes, a guitar solo. The seventies weren't over yet); some pogo-ing in the audience, Mr Brunel takes his bass for a walk and there's a good leap; and a bit of a pre-Glastonbury sing a long.
If you wondered what happened to them - well, they managed to stay out of jail and appear on The Other Stage at Glastonbury this year. (see below the Battersea clip)
NOTE: the crowd arrives in silence in the Battersea youtube clip ... hang in there... it's worth it to see Jean Jacques Brunel's trousers and how many people in the crowd hadn't got their punk hair cut.
Note: The Glastonbury Stranglers are NOT the original Stranglers. Hugh Cornwall has hair.
His first name is Brian Duffy.
The Stranglers were a little older than most bands I saw. The bass player had that scary stratt noise that felt like someone was twanging your rib cage. And I don't mean tickling. I think I remember hearing that the singer had been to prison. It took me a few pass bys to actually stop in and see them close up. I don't know what I was thinking. It wasn't like they were the only criminals we knew. And after all, it was well known that the Sex Pistols had nicked David Bowie's gear... Maybe I heard something of a childcatcher in Cornwalls' growly voice.
Had I known the drummer owned 4 ice cream vans and an off-licence in Guildford, called 'The Jackpot' and also owned one of the earliest home brewing equipment companies, at the time of a vogue in home brewing (thank you wikipedia), I would have said, "oh well then..." and strolled right on in.
Mr. Black met Hugh Cornwell after reading an advertisement in the Melody Maker and joined The Stranglers in 1974.
Mr. Black was 72 last week. Happy returns of the day to him.
Here's some good footage of a bright sunny day out in Battersea Park in 1978. I can't say I was there either. Anyway, there's a bit of everything. A zoom in on our birthday boy at the drum kit; Mr Cornwall's guitar solo (pardon, Yes, a guitar solo. The seventies weren't over yet); some pogo-ing in the audience, Mr Brunel takes his bass for a walk and there's a good leap; and a bit of a pre-Glastonbury sing a long.
If you wondered what happened to them - well, they managed to stay out of jail and appear on The Other Stage at Glastonbury this year. (see below the Battersea clip)
NOTE: the crowd arrives in silence in the Battersea youtube clip ... hang in there... it's worth it to see Jean Jacques Brunel's trousers and how many people in the crowd hadn't got their punk hair cut.
Note: The Glastonbury Stranglers are NOT the original Stranglers. Hugh Cornwall has hair.
Monday, August 30, 2010
John Peel Session - ATV second session 1978
Before ATV evolved into another band of interesting characters called The Good Missionaries, Mark had written this song. This is from the second John Peel session, some time in 1978. The Good Missionary. I can't listen to this lying flat on my back with my eyes closed. Not all the way through. Maybe you can.
John Peel Sessions
John Peel was a late night DJ on radio 1 when BBC radio only went up to 4. If you weren't on a night bus coming back from a gig, you'd be listening to this friendly funny Liverpool Lad. He was like the one who was allowed the airspace because the men with their suits and their day jobs had gone home. He even allowed bands into the BBC to play live. And he had bands play who weren't even on records yet.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio1/johnpeel/sessions
http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio1/johnpeel/sessions
Sniffin Glue and The floppy disc
oooOOOOOooooh, the tongue in the cheek of it.
This song was released as a floppy disc of vinyl that revolved at 45rpm on your turntable. It was given away with the last issue of Sniffin' Glue. I remember I was at Mark Perry's Headquarters the day Janet Street-Porter came striding in all furry pink coat and bright hair and large teeth and glasses raving about this song. JSP had a show on television for the "Yoof". I like a bit of reggae myself. How about you?
This song was released as a floppy disc of vinyl that revolved at 45rpm on your turntable. It was given away with the last issue of Sniffin' Glue. I remember I was at Mark Perry's Headquarters the day Janet Street-Porter came striding in all furry pink coat and bright hair and large teeth and glasses raving about this song. JSP had a show on television for the "Yoof". I like a bit of reggae myself. How about you?
Mark Perry
Mark P started writing a zine called Sniffin' Glue in 1976. One issue had a hand drawing in it of the fingering for three different chords on a guitar. And it said something like - "look. here are 3 chords, why don't you get a guitar and learn these chords and when you do you can start a band". And after 12 issues of the Glue, Mark Perry started his own band called ATV. (Alternative Television). Amongst some of his greatest hits on my turntable are "How Much Longer" and I liked what "electric warrior" has done with his visuals.
You can get all of the Sniffin Glue magazines in one handy coffeetable book. a ref: http://www.amazon.com/Sniffin-Glue-Rocknroll-Essential-Accessory/dp/1847729738/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1283230631&sr=8-1]
You can get all of the Sniffin Glue magazines in one handy coffeetable book. a ref: http://www.amazon.com/Sniffin-Glue-Rocknroll-Essential-Accessory/dp/1847729738/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1283230631&sr=8-1]
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
throbbing gristle
TG WILL HEADLINE ONE NIGHT IN DECEMBER AT ALL TOMORROWS PARTIES, MINEHEAD, UK
- NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS CURATED BY GODSPEED YOU! BLACK EMPEROR -
ATP TICKET & INFO LINK:
http://www.atpfestival.com/events/godspeednightmare/tickets.php
NEXT WEEK WE WILL CONFIRM AND LIST DETAILS AND TICKET CONTACTS
FOR THE FOLLOWING 2010 THROBBING GRISTLE PERFORMANCES
23rd OCTOBER LONDON VILLAGE UNDERGROUND, UK
30th OCTOBER PRAGUE ARCHA THEATRE, Czech Republic
2nd NOVEMBER BOLOGNA THEATRE ARENA DEL SOLE, ITALY
6th NOVEMBER PORTO CASA MUSICA, ITALY
TG WILL PERFORM AN ALL NEW SET USING NEW EXPERIMENTAL ELECTRONIC EQUIPMENT,
SPICED WITH A COUPLE OF OLD FAVOURITE TRACKS.
* THESE SHOWS ARE THE ONLY LIVE PERFORMANCES TG ANTICIPATE PLAYING THIS YEAR.
- NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS CURATED BY GODSPEED YOU! BLACK EMPEROR -
ATP TICKET & INFO LINK:
http://www.atpfestival.com/events/godspeednightmare/tickets.php
NEXT WEEK WE WILL CONFIRM AND LIST DETAILS AND TICKET CONTACTS
FOR THE FOLLOWING 2010 THROBBING GRISTLE PERFORMANCES
23rd OCTOBER LONDON VILLAGE UNDERGROUND, UK
30th OCTOBER PRAGUE ARCHA THEATRE, Czech Republic
2nd NOVEMBER BOLOGNA THEATRE ARENA DEL SOLE, ITALY
6th NOVEMBER PORTO CASA MUSICA, ITALY
TG WILL PERFORM AN ALL NEW SET USING NEW EXPERIMENTAL ELECTRONIC EQUIPMENT,
SPICED WITH A COUPLE OF OLD FAVOURITE TRACKS.
* THESE SHOWS ARE THE ONLY LIVE PERFORMANCES TG ANTICIPATE PLAYING THIS YEAR.
23 August - Keith Moon's birthday
Meanwhile in the Vortex in Wardour Street, London 1977...
[wavy lines and wobbly music]
It was a warm August night, 1977.
Mark Perry said he'd meet me at the Vortex on Wardour Street, London W1.
The Vortex Club was like a secret. You went through the pub, past the pool tables and down the stairs at the back. At the bottom of the stairs there was another bar and a stage and a backroom where you could sit and talk (and probably do drugs - but I only heard that later).
The night I'm talking about I remember it was very dark and I got there before Mark. The first band came on - Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
From America.
The drummer had one drum, one cymbal and played standing up.
He was great.
There were 3 in the band in silhouette in this white light shoebox of a stage. The girl in the middle on guitar was as high as her guitar was wide in her hands.They were mezmerizing.
After they played, I still didn't see Mark so I went back to the stairs to see if the man with the guest list was there. He wasn't there but reclining on the stairs - pretty much glowing because he was all in white, white t-shirt, white jeans, white blond hair - was Billy Idol.
I asked him, "Billy, have you seen Mark?"
He said, "No. I haven't."
The bloke with the guest list came over, checked the list and saw Mark wasn't there yet.
Billy pointed to a person standing right next to me in the dark corner. I hadn't noticed him. He was ever so sweet. Only as tall as me (5'4) wearing black jeans, black t-shirt but this terrible (I thought) black pudding bowl haircut. He looked so nervous, bless him. He couldn't stand still like he was on a stationary treadmill. I immediately assumed that with that hair, this had to be his first time at a punk club and Billy was trying to make him feel at home so I joined in. I liked being a punk. I thought everyone should come and see all these bands and dress up etc. It was fun. Some people think punks were angry and rude, but we weren't. We were all very in this together. The more the merrier.
Billy said, "have you met Keith Moon?"
"No," I said. "what a nice name. Moon. Is that your real name?"
He looked a bit surprised and said, "It's my real name, why would I have made it up?"
I thought he should be in the know so I told him, "noone uses their real name these days. We all make them up. You know, Johnny Rotten, Rat Scabies, Captain Sensible. Billy here. Billy's not really Billy Idol are you Billy? Tell him your real name."
Billy says, "it's William Broad."
The new boy joked, "ha ha ha if you were called Arthur you would be A Broad." I thought that was funny.
He asked me my name. It was noisy now and he heard me say my name was Daisy Human which it isn't but I thought was funny too, I liked this lad. He was trying. And I couldn't get over what a lovely name Moon was. "My mum's favourite song is Blue Moon, do you know that song? Have you ever heard it by Elvis Presley?" and just as I said that, Danny Baker announced over the microphone, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Elvis Presley has left the planet."
I gasped.
"Elvis Presley died?"
I didn't know what to feel.
I may have gone into shock.
Maybe I was ashamed of myself.
Here I was trying to show off and give the impression that I was such a good punk (or whatever I was trying to prove) -- I couldn't believe I'd just been talking about my mother AND Elvis Presley in the VORTEX... Elvis Presley wasn't a punk... He was fat and old and wore FLARES. His wore a white suit with fringes on it. If you wanted to wear white and be cool you should look like, well, like, Billy. Surely.
I even started to cry.
Mr. Moon was very nice.
He put his arm round me and said, "don't worry, rock and roll will never die" and then he said, you might want to go to the ladies and (he pointed to my face). Let me get you a drink."
In the ladies I saw my mascara had streaked all over the place. Phew. Saved. I went back. He'd got me a vodka/orange. Then maybe Mark showed up. We watched I think the Jam might have played later on. I think I saw Paul Weller or Bruce Foxton in the back room. Maybe there was another stage back there and the Jam played in there. I don't remember. Anyway …. The next day….
The rest of the night Elvis Died story...
So the next morning, I get on the bus, upstairs, and there's a lot of traffic.
The bus gets to the top of the hill and it can't go any further.
The two old ladies in the seat in front of me are like Monty Python characters.
One says to the other, "oooer, the golf course [at the bottom of the hill] is flooded, we'll not get through to the shops, look at all the rain" and the other lady says, "it's the angels crying for Elvis, innit."
We all have to get off the bus.
Go home.
NEXT NIGHT, I'm on my way to some gig or other and there's this Big brick wall somewhere along the route and there's these HUGE letters - someone must have needed a ladder - it says ELVIS LIVES ON IN OUR HEARTS. Amazing to see.
Especially with all that rain. Must have been oil paint.
BIG WHITE LETTERS as high as your garage door.
A couple of weeks later, a giraffe at London Zoo gives birth.
Ah look at the little Giraffe.
They call him Victor.
Next night on the news, uh oh, victor is a bit stumbly.
A couple of days, is it a few weeks maybe,(?) I forget but anyway, (children look away) Victor dies.
And the next time I bus by the wall Elvis is crossed out with one great big diagonal white line and someone has painted VICTOR so it now reads: VICTOR LIVES ON IN OUR HEARTS.
A few weeks go by. Groucho Marx died and Victor is crossed out and above Victor, was painted GROUCHO, so it now read GROUCHO LIVES ON IN OUR HEARTS.
It was December when I went up the bus stairs on the way to see somebody good. By this time I'd been going out with Mark Perry and he was saying, bloody hell everyone looks the same, everyone's wearing the same stuff, people aren't looking different anymore, and as I came up the stairs I remember thinking, yeah - look at this lot. All the seats were taken, everyone was reading the NME (music paper) and they were all wearing black blazers, skinny ties and as we came round the corner, I looked at the wall and there was a new name. KEEF.
I gasped.
“Keith Richards died?”
"naaah" says some lad, looking up from his paper.
“KEITH MOON.”
I'm like, - where have I heard that name before?
I ask “Who's Keith Moon?”
His friend said, "Only the greatest rock and roll drummer in the whole world, that's who"
I'm like, “what band is he in?”
(I swear to God, I didn't know.)
Someone said, “The Who”
I immediately heard his voice: "Don't worry - Rock and roll will never die"
And I sat down.
[wavy lines and wobbly music]
It was a warm August night, 1977.
Mark Perry said he'd meet me at the Vortex on Wardour Street, London W1.
The Vortex Club was like a secret. You went through the pub, past the pool tables and down the stairs at the back. At the bottom of the stairs there was another bar and a stage and a backroom where you could sit and talk (and probably do drugs - but I only heard that later).
The night I'm talking about I remember it was very dark and I got there before Mark. The first band came on - Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
From America.
The drummer had one drum, one cymbal and played standing up.
He was great.
There were 3 in the band in silhouette in this white light shoebox of a stage. The girl in the middle on guitar was as high as her guitar was wide in her hands.They were mezmerizing.
After they played, I still didn't see Mark so I went back to the stairs to see if the man with the guest list was there. He wasn't there but reclining on the stairs - pretty much glowing because he was all in white, white t-shirt, white jeans, white blond hair - was Billy Idol.
I asked him, "Billy, have you seen Mark?"
He said, "No. I haven't."
The bloke with the guest list came over, checked the list and saw Mark wasn't there yet.
Billy pointed to a person standing right next to me in the dark corner. I hadn't noticed him. He was ever so sweet. Only as tall as me (5'4) wearing black jeans, black t-shirt but this terrible (I thought) black pudding bowl haircut. He looked so nervous, bless him. He couldn't stand still like he was on a stationary treadmill. I immediately assumed that with that hair, this had to be his first time at a punk club and Billy was trying to make him feel at home so I joined in. I liked being a punk. I thought everyone should come and see all these bands and dress up etc. It was fun. Some people think punks were angry and rude, but we weren't. We were all very in this together. The more the merrier.
Billy said, "have you met Keith Moon?"
"No," I said. "what a nice name. Moon. Is that your real name?"
He looked a bit surprised and said, "It's my real name, why would I have made it up?"
I thought he should be in the know so I told him, "noone uses their real name these days. We all make them up. You know, Johnny Rotten, Rat Scabies, Captain Sensible. Billy here. Billy's not really Billy Idol are you Billy? Tell him your real name."
Billy says, "it's William Broad."
The new boy joked, "ha ha ha if you were called Arthur you would be A Broad." I thought that was funny.
He asked me my name. It was noisy now and he heard me say my name was Daisy Human which it isn't but I thought was funny too, I liked this lad. He was trying. And I couldn't get over what a lovely name Moon was. "My mum's favourite song is Blue Moon, do you know that song? Have you ever heard it by Elvis Presley?" and just as I said that, Danny Baker announced over the microphone, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Elvis Presley has left the planet."
I gasped.
"Elvis Presley died?"
I didn't know what to feel.
I may have gone into shock.
Maybe I was ashamed of myself.
Here I was trying to show off and give the impression that I was such a good punk (or whatever I was trying to prove) -- I couldn't believe I'd just been talking about my mother AND Elvis Presley in the VORTEX... Elvis Presley wasn't a punk... He was fat and old and wore FLARES. His wore a white suit with fringes on it. If you wanted to wear white and be cool you should look like, well, like, Billy. Surely.
I even started to cry.
Mr. Moon was very nice.
He put his arm round me and said, "don't worry, rock and roll will never die" and then he said, you might want to go to the ladies and (he pointed to my face). Let me get you a drink."
In the ladies I saw my mascara had streaked all over the place. Phew. Saved. I went back. He'd got me a vodka/orange. Then maybe Mark showed up. We watched I think the Jam might have played later on. I think I saw Paul Weller or Bruce Foxton in the back room. Maybe there was another stage back there and the Jam played in there. I don't remember. Anyway …. The next day….
The rest of the night Elvis Died story...
So the next morning, I get on the bus, upstairs, and there's a lot of traffic.
The bus gets to the top of the hill and it can't go any further.
The two old ladies in the seat in front of me are like Monty Python characters.
One says to the other, "oooer, the golf course [at the bottom of the hill] is flooded, we'll not get through to the shops, look at all the rain" and the other lady says, "it's the angels crying for Elvis, innit."
We all have to get off the bus.
Go home.
NEXT NIGHT, I'm on my way to some gig or other and there's this Big brick wall somewhere along the route and there's these HUGE letters - someone must have needed a ladder - it says ELVIS LIVES ON IN OUR HEARTS. Amazing to see.
Especially with all that rain. Must have been oil paint.
BIG WHITE LETTERS as high as your garage door.
A couple of weeks later, a giraffe at London Zoo gives birth.
Ah look at the little Giraffe.
They call him Victor.
Next night on the news, uh oh, victor is a bit stumbly.
A couple of days, is it a few weeks maybe,(?) I forget but anyway, (children look away) Victor dies.
And the next time I bus by the wall Elvis is crossed out with one great big diagonal white line and someone has painted VICTOR so it now reads: VICTOR LIVES ON IN OUR HEARTS.
A few weeks go by. Groucho Marx died and Victor is crossed out and above Victor, was painted GROUCHO, so it now read GROUCHO LIVES ON IN OUR HEARTS.
It was December when I went up the bus stairs on the way to see somebody good. By this time I'd been going out with Mark Perry and he was saying, bloody hell everyone looks the same, everyone's wearing the same stuff, people aren't looking different anymore, and as I came up the stairs I remember thinking, yeah - look at this lot. All the seats were taken, everyone was reading the NME (music paper) and they were all wearing black blazers, skinny ties and as we came round the corner, I looked at the wall and there was a new name. KEEF.
I gasped.
“Keith Richards died?”
"naaah" says some lad, looking up from his paper.
“KEITH MOON.”
I'm like, - where have I heard that name before?
I ask “Who's Keith Moon?”
His friend said, "Only the greatest rock and roll drummer in the whole world, that's who"
I'm like, “what band is he in?”
(I swear to God, I didn't know.)
Someone said, “The Who”
I immediately heard his voice: "Don't worry - Rock and roll will never die"
And I sat down.
Monday, August 23, 2010
The Pop Group 2010 - tour dates announced
How tres fantastique for Paris, molto bene for Turin and Jolly Lucky for Londoners that The Pop Group will be playing a few shows in September.
Patti Smith 1976 live
did you know Redondo Beach was a beach where women love other women? News to me. Love this song:
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Peter Laughner: August 22, 1952 – June 22, 1977
Peter Laughner was a founding member of Pere Ubu. One of my favourite bands of all time.
I never met Peter Laughner. He died of acute pancreatitis brought on by drinking and drugging. I understand that this song may have been recorded a few nights before he died.
You can get more guitar tuning assistance from myspace.com/peterlaughner.
Sylvia Plath was never too good at math
I never met Peter Laughner. He died of acute pancreatitis brought on by drinking and drugging. I understand that this song may have been recorded a few nights before he died.
You can get more guitar tuning assistance from myspace.com/peterlaughner.
Sylvia Plath was never too good at math
A A A E
But they tell me that she finished at the head of her class
C#m C#m
And if she lost any virginity
B B
She didn't lose it too fast
A A A G#
They couldn't hold any dress rehearsals for Sylvia Plath.
E E E E
A E A E
Sylvia Plath came into Manhattan
A A A E
She had crawled out one cocoon where there was absolutely nothing happenin
C#m
She said "If I'm gonna be classless and crass,
B
I'm gonna break up some glass".
A A A G#
Nobody broke anything sharper than Sylvia Plath
E E E E
C#m C#m B B A A B B
E E E E
A E A E
There's no romance in excuses, there's just a dance in the aftermath
A A A E
And when you check out of this hotel Jack, you're nothing but an autograph
C#m
The desk clerk wakes up around seven
B B
And he tosses it out with the trash
A A A G#
But he might keep around a couple of letters return-addressed to Sylvia Plath
E E E E
A E A A
Sylvia Plath woke up and turned on the gas
A A A E
Then she put her head down and completely forgot about lighting a match
C#m C#m
The rest of the details
B B
Are just too boring to attach
A A A G# E
But let's see you do one thing as graceful as Sylvia Plath
A A A G# E
Aw, let's see you do one thing as graceful as Sylvia Plath
A A A G# E E7
Yes, let's see you do one thing as senselessly cruel as Sylvia Plath
The album is "Take The Guitar Player For A Ride" and you can unzip it here: [find the code to return the reader to your site a ref: something ] http://www.box.net/shared/o9m9a7mc37
Where are they now? Two Clash members are Gorillaz.
Paul Simenon (the handsome one in The Clash) joined Damon Albarn and Mick Jones ( The Clash) on the third Gorillaz album "Plastic Beach". Mr. Simenon also played bass in the Gorillaz live band, along with Mick Jones on guitar. The band headlined the 2010 Coachella Festival and took the Friday night on the Pyramid stage at Glastonbury when U2 pulled out (25 June 2010). Albarn became the first performer to headline Glastonbury two years in succession. There was a special appearance by Lou Reed.
Gorillaz kicked off their first ever world tour on 20 July 2010 at Byblos, Lebanon. They are coming to America in October, Europe in November, and finally through Australia, New Zealand, and one date in Asia in December.
In 25 July 2010, Gorillaz performed a concert at the Citadel of Damascus in Syria. They are getting around, aren't they?
20 August was Andy Czezowski's birthday
Last Friday, Andy Czezowski turned er, hold on a minute... 61 years old? He was born in 1949.... can that be right?? I do know that he founded The Fridge - a night club in Brixton, London that you can buy for three hundred thousand pounds according to http://www.caterersearch.com/Articles/2010/07/22/334372/Brixton39s-Fridge-nightclub-up-for-sale-again.htm
Happy Birthday Andy. I hope the sale goes according to the best for all concerned.
Happy Birthday Andy. I hope the sale goes according to the best for all concerned.
cranked up
If you want to know what it was like to be in the audience at The Roxy Club, there is a movie you can get called "The Punk Rock Movie" 100 days at the Roxy. The filmmaker is Don Letts. He was a DJ at the club. He would play lots of reggae - Dr. Alimantado, and others that Vivien Goldman could name for you, but of course, he wouldn't play many punk rock singles. There weren't many.
Here's a punters' view of Slaughter And The Dogs singing Cranked Up Really High. Hmmm. What chew fink ee's singing about, then? Answers on a postcard, please.
Here's a punters' view of Slaughter And The Dogs singing Cranked Up Really High. Hmmm. What chew fink ee's singing about, then? Answers on a postcard, please.
The Roxy Club and Shay Grrrr Vara
Most clubs weren't expensive to get in. The Roxy Club was expensive. I didn't know why until I saw this clip on uTube (see below). It was over one pound fifty pence to get in. I think you had to be a member. You came in the door and there was a pool table. And you went down a rickety staircase. The "stage" was under the staircase. There was a bar. There were toilets where you went to get the rest of your outfit on, a drink from someone who had brought a bottle of something in, some more safety pins pinned in your outfit, more eyeliner, a haircut like one of the punters if you didn't like yours, and later on in the evening a dunking in a sink for a coating of sugar water on your mohican to stop it falling over. You might even spend a penny. Apparently the "tired" people sleeping on the floor had bought heroin in there. I had no idea. I heard a welsh accent once and assumed they were tired from their train trip to London. You might be able to use to the loo but you might not because people might be shagging in there. I always thought the worst bit was when Don Letts got this really bright spotlight and shined it into the crowd. He was the DJ. I found out later, of course, that he was filming. But it was a bit bright for me. History buffs might like to know that The Roxy was in the same space as an underground (literally) gay (remember when being gay was something secret?) disco with a name that sounded like Shag A Rama's that was a play on the name Che Gerr Vara who was that handsome Cuban bloke on a t-shirt that you could buy in the hippie market bit of High Street Kensington. I didn't know who he was. But I knew he was a revolutionary. Punks liked revolutionaries. Revolutions. Not wearing flares was being revolutionary. Patti Smith sang about revolutions. Revolooooootions. oops. I digress. Here is Andy, the owner of The Roxy:
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