more NuSphere collaboration

Dave (a.k.a. NuSphere) came down for a visit from Crayford last weekend. I was pleasantly surprised that he'd brought his laptop and an audio adaptor, wanting to record some saz stuff for new tracks he's working on (some dance-oriented, some for a meditation project). So I plugged in and played along. Some bits worked better than others, but the first piece worked especially well. He's taken it all away to mix, but in the meantime, we've found that the saz tracks without the beats I was playing to sound really rather good. Especially the first one. It's like I'm improvising around some invisible architecture, forcing my lines into shapes they wouldn't naturally take.


Canterbury Cathedral cloisters
On the Sunday we went down to Canterbury Cathedral to see if we could make use of the wond'rous acoustics in the Chapterhouse (I'd dropped by there a few nights before and been again stunned by the place). Unfortunately it was locked, but we managed to record a few minutes of saz and overtone singing in the rather atmospheric cloisters.

Listen Here

Dedicated to Hugh (but they weren't listening)

Hugh Hopper, the bass player from the classic Soft Machine line-up, has recently been diagnosed with leukemia, so various friends in his home town of Whitstable organised a benefit gig to raise money for his treatment. This was Friday 12th December, upstairs at the Royal Oyster Stores.


My old friend Tim and I got the bus out to Whitstable for this after first watching an episode of the wonderful Bagpuss (in homage to its creator, Oliver Postgate, who'd died a few days earlier). As well as being a huge Postgate fan, Tim's a huge Soft Machine fan (he's listened to Third many hundreds of times, more than any other LP, and even once had one of his poetry recitals spontaneously backed up by HH on bass - check 24/08/96 here). We arrived a bit late and so missed Brian Hopper's intro. When we got there, Nigel Hobbins was finishing his set (with fellow Happy Accident Justin on trumpet). We noticed that Emily (of Bagpuss fame, being Postgate's animation partner's daughter) was in attendance. Hugh himself was sitting at the back - sadly he's unable to play bass for the time being, due to back pain related to his condition. I can imagine that not being able to get involved in the musical proceedings couldn't have been easy for him.

Unfortunately, the most noteworthy aspect of this event was the extent to which people weren't listening. There were sitting around tables drinking wine and talking louldy. Really annoying. This has been getting to me lately. That Sharron Krauss gig was too much. That was a fiver. In this case, we have people paying 10 quid to come and listen to this music, and the musicians playing for free, to help someone we're supposedly all concerned about...so PLEASE shut up and listen. One of the trombonists (possibly of the Happy Accidents?) twice had to ask the audience, at some length, like a roomful of unruly schoolkids, to please be a bit quieter. It's just embarrassing. Arrgh.

But then, there's Robert Wyatt's lyric from Soft Machine's Third, in my opinion the greatest album to feature Hopper's bass work.

"Just before we go on to the next part of our song
Let's all make sure we've got the time
Music-making still performs the normal functions -
background noise for people scheming, seducing, revolting and teaching
That's all right by me, don't think that I'm complaining
After all, it's only leisure time, isn't it?"

John Atkinson's set, featuring quirky songs with elaborate witty lyrics, was pretty much pointless with all talking going on - had to struggle to follow any of it. Between songs, his bass player stepped up to the mic, said "And now a word to our sponsor, sitting at the back there...", stepped on his fuzz pedal and twanged a loud bass note - something disappointingly few people in attendance seemed to 'get'.

The Frances Knight Trio did their jazz trio thing for a bit (and was that "Ode to Billy Joe", in there?), were then joined by Frank van der Koij and Christine Janet on horns to play an instrumental arrangment of Robert Wyatt's "Was a Friend" (i spent whole time trying to work out what the song was, from the line "I almost forgot where we buried the hatchet..."). Orphy Robinson came up with his digital vibraphone and tore it down, played with such dynamism and enthusiasm that people couldn't not pay attention for at least a little while. He wrote a nice little blog entry about the event. Lol Coxhill played three longish improvisations on soprano sax - the audience noise during this particularly bothered me, but it was undeniably challenging music, so it didn't particularly surprise me.

Fellow Penguin Cafe Orchestra alumni and Wyatt collaborators Annie Whitehead (trombone) and Jennifer Maidman (electric guitar and vocals) then got up and stole the show. This finally got people on their feet. The first piece had a kind of New Orleans 'Iko Iko' vibe, the next was more sort of 'minimal funk'. Tim pointed out how effectively AW and JM were "unwinding the bourgeois atmosphere". JM sang a song and they were then joined by a load of the other jazzers for a rendition of the Robert Wyatt/Brian Hopper-cowritten "Soup Song", which got yet more people up on their feet. Within Wyatt's repertoire, this has never been a favourite, but it was a good choice for the occasion. I've since discovered that Annie Whitehead and Jennifer Maidman were both involved in the band which played Wyatt material (sort of a tribute band, but without anyone pretending to be RW - as if you could!), also both appear in the BBC4 documentary Free Will and Testament:


We had to leave to get the last bus before The Happy Accidents started their set, which was a real shame, as I was really looking forward to seeing them for the first time in twelve years (last time was Whitstable Mayday '96, in the sadly-no-more Assembly Rooms).

And the gig left me with the same question as that Hawkwind gig a few days earlier - where have all the freaks gone? It's getting slightly disconcerting.

epic COTD session

Thurs 11th December, St. Mary Arches church - probably the last of the year (a sparse but rewarding one for Drone sessions)

Richard - electric bass guitar
Lucy - alto saxophone
Vicky - harmonium
James S - electronics, treated vocals, harmonica, saz
James T - submerged gong, organ, percussion, plastic bag, poetry
Keith - mini-synth/sampler, electric guitar
Henry - Roland samplepad, percussion, vocals
Iggy - Roland samplepad, percussion
Mick - electric guitar
me - saz, percussion

Listen Here

Medaevil vestment taken from St. Mary Arches
Fortunately, that morning, I was walking through Princesshay and heard some fabulous music drifting towards me. Suddenly realising it was yet more Christmas-related music (urg!) I was thrown into cognitive dissonance, as, despite this fact, it still sounded fabulous. It was a lively interpretation of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen", and I quickly realised Spin 2 were responsible, being a regular busking act in Exeter. Ali was just flying on her electric fiddle. Such a lovely groove they bring. Stopping to chat, I reminded Mick about the Drone session, which resulted in him bringing Iggy along (Iggy's been to a session or two before, but we knew him as 'Igor' then). I've since remembered the first Dub Magnitude rehearsal, around this time of year a few years ago, where we ended out working out dub versions of carols, including "God Rest Ye..." ("Jah Bless Ye Irie Rastamen"?).

I'm really digging the 'new' COTD sound (not that there can really be such a thing) - vast, sprawling, much weirder and more adventurous, LOUDER at times. Henry switching to Samplepad has really helped to keep things moving. Lucy's sax playing is another very welcome ingredient (also Vicky's harmonium, but it could do with being played a bit less shyly!). James S electronic vocal madness and James T playing a large plastic bag (thicker vinyl type, rather than the horrible crinkly supermarket variety) were among the more memorable aspects of this particular session. Richard's bass playing is becoming increasingly creative, and Keith seems ever more inclined to mess with gadgets and a tiny keyboard, alongside his masterful guitar playing.

I'm thinking of compiling COTD compilation 7 soon, probably drawn entirely from the eight existing recordings made of 2008 sessions. Something for long, dark evenings in early 2009, I think.

Orbis Tertius? in Bristol

Wednesday 10th December, the Cube Cinema in St. Pauls. This was our first musical venturing beyond the Exeter area.

Occasional CoTD collaborator Melski had organised this as a debut gig for her 'Bristol Feral Choir' (and Complaints Choir). Proceeds went to the Gaza Children's Hospital.


This was the second time Jim's performed with us. The first was a completely spontaneous thing out at a micro-festival near Coleford during the summer. This time we had a quick run-through the night before. We got a 40 minute set to open the second half of the evening, and were all very happy with how we played. In fact we were so relaxed during the soundcheck jam that we just kept playing until people started drifting back into the auditorium (from the foyer, where, supposedly, a Solstice King and Queen were dispensing blessings). The mix seemed good (despite our lack of monitors), although the recording's a bit muddy due to my placement of the H2 recorder. The set was well received, and ameliorated by some visual stimulation (which we're usually completely lacking) - a slideshow projected behind us featuring a couple of hundred images of extraordinary, trippy ice/snow/frost formations which I'd downloaded the day before. I was sitting sideways to face Henry, so was able to enjoy this out of the corner of my eye - I almost lost track of what I was playing as a result of a couple of the more extraordinary images.

me - saz
Keith - electric bass guitar
Henry - percussion
Jim - low whistle, melodica, glockenspiel

Listen Here
Before the first half, Jim and I caught a bit of a harpist called Marie-France playing in the foyer - a wonderful, flowing, intricated improvisation played with complete ease, an O'Carolan tune Jim recognised, and others. Members of the Feral Choir and Cube Orcestra were getting decked out in greenery, then some choristers processed into the auditorium singing a very old-sounding song called "Green Groweth the Holly". The audience followed them in, and were then treated to an improvisation by the Cube Orchestra (including Ale, who's played a bit with me and COTD). The Feral Choir sang a semi-conducted/semi-improvised piece to accompany a 1950's black and white documentary about "Eskimos" projected silently behind them. The Cube Orchestra then improvised to a section of Chaplin's The Gold Rush (the bit with the cabin teetering on the cliff-edge), which worked especially well. Some anti-consumerist Christmas song re-writes were sung with the audience, and the Complaints Choir improvised on a diverse list of written complaints generated by audience members as they had arrived.

After we'd played in the second set, the Feral Choir sang "Pat-a-pan" with me and Jim accompanying on saz and low whistle, respectively. Melski, Jim and I all know this from long-term mutual friend Pok, who sadly couldn't be there (although on his way to the West Country at that time). Other solstice songs, kids' 'traditional' rude versions of Christmas carols, anti-consumerist songs, etc. were sung. There was a hilarious, fast-paced 'crap raffle' (all the prizes were crap, intentionally) and the proper old pre-Christianised version of "The Holly and the Ivy" to end, with men's and women's verses - felt really moving. That was the Feral Choir again, joined by Jim and others. I suddenly remembered seeing Jim years ago at the Assembly Rooms in Glastonbury, singing the same solstice songs as part of a similar event organised by his bandmate Tim from The Invisible Opera Company of Tibet.

* * *
That evening, Jim and Keith also discovered a shared love of certain old Canterbury sounds (Hatfield and the North, Matching Mole, etc.) and Jim mentioned this extraordinary bit of footage from Pip Pyle's recent funeral. That's Richard Sinclair (Caravan, Hatfield) singing Robert Wyatt's "God Song" - not sure who's in the band. Note the stickers all over Pip's coffin, and the child's drawing right at the end.

Hawkwind (a new golden age?)

Monday 8th December, The Lemon Grove, Exeter University

If you were writing a social/cultural history of Hawkwind, the continuing existence of the band in 2008 would barely receive a footnote - it would all be about the Notting Hill scene, Michael Moorcock, Bob Calvert, the Space Ritual, Lemmy, Stacia, Stonehenge, the free festival scene, etc., etc. But from a strictly musical point of view, what's currently going on with Hawkwind is very much worth remarking on.

To my ears, on this occasion, they sounded as sharp as a well-honed blade, a blade Captain Brock's been sharpening for almost 40 years. The words 'organic machine' seem to sum it up best. It's quite machine-like in its precision, in a krautrock-sort-of-way, but with a greater organicity (partly to do with the interhuman interaction that goes into the music-making, and partly the way the squelchy analogue blurps and bleeps fuse into the heavy rock framework). The sound was immaculate. Absolutely no problems with the PA, everything sounded perfect, they sounded incredibly well-rehearsed and yet the whole thing had a real freshness about it. They encored with "Silver Machine", of all things (sung by the terminally enthusiastic and affable drummer-since-'86 Richard Chadwick) and it sounded like it could have been written last week.

This being Hawkwind, it's not surprising that there have been a couple of changes in line-up since I last saw them (squashed into The Phoenix a couple of years ago...the surprisingly small audience at the Lemon Grove - known to Exeter students as the 'Lemmy', rather appropriately - meant there was a lot more room to move): Tim Blake's back on keyboards and theremin (a great idea). Mr. Dibs, a roadie who I last saw take the stage to recite "7 x 7" (I think) is now the bass player, and like Alan Davy who he replaced, very much from the Lemmy School of Bass Playing. His vocals haven't quite got the necessary growl and authority yet, but it seems very apparent that he's going to grow perfectly into the role. A sheepish looking young man off to the side fiddled with a laptop and played a bit of supplementary guitar and bass - if Brock's the captain of the good ship Hawkwind, and Chadwick his first mate, then this would be the new cabin boy - he turns out to be Niall Hone from Tribe of Cro. Because of the particular wall-of-sound style spacerock they play, it's not always clear who's making any given sound, so it was hard to tell what was him and what was Tim Blake. But that's kind of the whole point of the Hawkwind sound. [This review of the modern Hawkwind gets that point across perfectly - and I love the "Don't get in the way of a Dave Brock guitar solo" caption.]

The sound was a bit more metallic than in recent times - "Angels of Death" and "Who's Gonna Win the War?" in particular had that NWOBHM thing going on. I read somewhere recently that Judas Priest had the distinction within the world of heavy metal of severing the connection with the blues. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not (they were very white, somehow, and I always sensed a mildly fascistic aesthetic). Hawkwind have got their blues roots ("Hurry on Sundown", Willie Dixon songs, etc.), but this incarnation didn't really show it - again, it was more 'Germanic' (in the Krautrock sense). Not a lot of Africa in there. Does this in any way explain the roughly 10:1 male:female audience ratio? Anyway, although I'm not too into the metal thing, in this case it worked for me because of the way it was perfectly offset by the squelchy analogue electronics. "Angels of Death" had the most fantastic jam section wedged inside it - thunderously hypnotic. "Hassan-i-Sabbagh", on other hand, had a kind of ambient trance midsection (is this the "Space is Their (Palestine)" track from that recent album I never heard?). It was quite long and seemed largely pre-programmed - hard to tell who was playing what - but when the drums kicked back in, it just dovetailed beautifully back into the familiar song. I'm impressed by the way the nearly-Septuagenarian Dave Brock manages to integrate any interesting new genres that come along (punk, NWOBHM, dub, techno, drum'n'bass) into the sonic soup that is Hawkwind.

We got a load of classics, as you'd expect. They opened with "Master of the Universe" -> "Time We Left this World Today", followed by "Orgone Accumulator" -> "You Know You're Only Dreaming" -> "Orgone Accumulator" (OA was a bit too far on the 'boogie' side of things - had me in mind of ZZ Top, but I still enjoyed it). There were also a couple of new ones: "Ray", which rocked out properly in the best possible post-80's Hawkwind kind of way, and "Sentinel", a sci-fi themed (duh!) Dibs song which was a bit duff, but it's still good to hear them trying out new stuff. Also from relatively recent times (damn, 1992 isn't that recent - that's aging for you...) was the populist singalong "Right to Decide" with old black and white footage of the proletariat rioting and fighting the police integrated into the light show.

The light show was perfectly adequate, but not really up to Hawkwind standard - like anything a moderately successful band with a data projector might chuck up on a screen. In fact, in stark contrast to the stunning sonic output, the whole visual aspect of this particular Hawkwind tour was rather embarrasing, in a 1980's Dr. Who-sort-of-way. Tim Blake looked utterly ridiculous flailing about like a rockstar (but looking like a withered, long-haired Warhol) with his wearable keyboard - I'm guessing that he realises this, and there's a strong element of irony here. I hope so, anyway! Dibs looked formidable in his cowl/cassock thing - like a nordic heavy metal monk with forked beard. The interpretative dance/mime artists didn't work for me at all - in the past, they've drawn most successfully on a kind of dayglo/camp/pixie/punk/circus/festival vibe, but this just seemed a bit po-faced and pretentious. But the live Hawkwind thing has always been a bit of a mad carnival. I get the feeling that Brock is into just letting everyone do their thing and just finds it all rather amusing. Certainly no James Brown-style fascistic dress code and uniform inspections here!

The audience tho'...I mentioned the worrying gender ratio, but it wasn't just that... it felt like a bit of a comic book/sci-fi convention or something. No scary bikers, no voluminous beards or skanky dreads flying (in fact very little movement at all). Was there anyone in attendance on mind-altering drugs, or was it all just pints of Carlsberg? This is HAWKWIND - where have all the freaks gone, man?

Billy Childish and the Musicians of the British Empire

Friday 5th December, The Farmhouse, Canterbury.

My first visit to The Farmhouse, set up by the same people who brought us the last few summers' Lounge on the Farm festivals. Billy Childish was meant to play this year's, but cancelled for some reason, so this was him making it up to the good people of Canterbury, I suppose.

I'd seen the Musicians of the British Empire at the 2007 LOTF, inside a horribly functional agricultural building with horrible acoustics, couldn't really get into it at all. This gig fully made up for that, and more. Billy had a ridiculous military helmet and jacket on then - this time it was a kilt and sporran (and still sporting that fabulously twirly moustache). Nurse Julie (Billy's American wife) was still on bass in her early 20th century nurse costume, and Wolf Howard bashing away at the back in a most uncomfortably heavy looking jacket and bearskin hat.

BC has distilled raw, stripped down garage rock'n'roll to an artform. I've never seen it done so perfectly. It's funny, cos the support act (Armitage Shanks) were playing basically the same riffs on the same instruments, and they just seemed pointless - bored me after a song-and-a-half - whereas the Musicians had the place electrified from start to finish. They were on top form.


There's a new album called Thatcher's Children. I'd heard the title track when I saw him in Margate earlier this year (poetry reading plus solo set), but we didn't get that tonight. Lots of songs everyone seemed to be familiar with, plus a new(?) one called "Christmas 1979", about his dysfunctional family, the rousing "Merry f***in' Christmas to you all!" chorus directly quoting his drunken, abusive father.

To break up the noisy stuff, Bill did some accapella traditionals: the spiritual "John the Revelator" (everyone singing it back at him!), "In the Pines" and Leadbelly's "When I Was A Cowboy".

It's funny how you can just keep recycling the same basic riffs (mostly "You Really Got Me" and "All Day and All of the Night") for decades and still keep it interesting. Reminds me of something the architect Gaudí once said (quoted in my very first blog entry):

"Originality should not be sought after since then it is extravagance. One should look at what one normally does and try to improve it."

To finish off, we got multiple encores, ending with Hendrix's "Fire". I'm not sure if BC is aware of the Kent connection, but it turns out that the original fire which Jimi asked if could stand next to was an electric one in Noel Redding's mum's bungalow near Folkestone, Christmas 1966! "Move over Jimi, let Rover take over" (that's what got sung).

Rachel Unthank and the Winterset

Gulbenkian Theatre, Canterbury, Sunday 29th November.

What a treat! I'd heard their version of Robert Wyatt's "Sea Song" (and read an interview in The Wire wherein he approved heartily of it), and one other song, but that's it. The fact they'd won some BBC Folk award (as advertised on the poster I saw in Canterbury Wholefoods window) actually made me less inclined to see them, suggesting something 'safe' and ultimately a bit dull. But no, they were almost certainly the best thing I've seen all year (bar Orchestra Baoabab, who are on a completely different scale).

We got the "Sea Song" of course (sung by Rachel's sister Becky, who also gave us a haunting rendition of Nick Drake's "River Man"). But there was so much else going on with this group. The opener, "I Wish I Were a Maid Again" was sung by Rachel in such a way as to be riveting, Becky delivering chilling harmonies, Niopha Keegan playing accordion and Stef Conner hammering out occasional tone clusters on the grand piano, between playing directly on the strings with her hands. We then got a variety of Northumbrian folksongs, cheery banter, Rachel and Becky pulling off some pretty incredible clog dancing, a medley of sea shanties they learned off their Dad, Niopha (usually playing fiddle) singing something in Irish Gaelic, a couple of songs by a former member (Belinda O'Hooley) called "Blackbird" and "Whitethorn".


Rachel and Niopha, elsewhere
They finished with a rousing "Fareweel Regality" (getting us to sing along on the "...away from Hexamshire" bit) which nearly had me in tears. The encore was even more moving - the four of them singing a beautiful lullaby in an ancient Scandinavian language called Norn once spoken on the northernmost of the Shetland Isles.

No "Bonny at Morn" or "Cruel Sister", but then, not having heard or seen their two albums, I didn't even know they did those. I'll be seeing them again, almost certainly. What lovely people! They somehow managed to turn the usually-stuff Gulbenkian into their front room! I almost danced home, I was so elated by this one...

Jolie Holland

St. James Church, Picadilly, Friday 28th November.

Arriving late, I ended up in a pew fairly far back, craning my neck to see. Caught most of the set from Sam Amidon - mostly American folk songs. It was a bit-precious sounding in a Windham Hill-kind-of-way to begin with, but he eventually got JH out to play some appropriately scratchy fiddle while he played banjo and 'hollered' (I think that's what you'd call it), taking things in a more 'weird Americana' direction. Someone (who turned out to be JH's guitarist) joined them on drums, playing (intentionally) arhythmically to add to the weirdness factor. Nice try, but I'm afraid that didn't work - just sounded like a rock band practicing in the room next door.


Jolie at London's Roundhouse (2006) - same guitar
I'm not too convinced by what I've heard of her new album The Living and the Dead (almost mainstream country-rock-sounding in places, although the writing's as fab as ever), and this was compounded by the mild disappointment at finding that she'd brought a band with her. Strangely, I was reading a Juana Molina live review in The Wire recently, and a lot of it applied really quite directly - it was in a church, creating an inappropriately hushed and reverent atmosphere; the reviewer was disappointed to see a drumkit and bass on stage during support slot (the anomaly that is Max Tundra); Juana risks losing what makes her special by adding to it in this way, i.e. the band take away more than they add. In JH's case, the presence of a rhythm section sort of locks her down to a temporal grid, removing that dreamy 'meandering' quality that makes her stuff so extraordinary.

Jolie's drummer was great, and the guitarist, clearly influenced by Marc Ribot, was mostly OK, tho' I think he may have been having an off night. He played some almost Zimbabwean-style guitar lines during "The Littlest Birds", which could have worked well, but he didn't quite pull it off. Similarly, when he stepped on the overdrive pedal and attempted to 'shred' during "Old Fashioned Morphine" (the one everyone wanted to hear, it seemed), it could have worked, but it didn't.

They started off with three or four new ones, eventually playing most of the new album. Perhaps I need to get to know the songs a bit better, but it did rather make me wish I'd caught her on 2006's tour when she played (solo) The Roundhouse.

We got "Alley Flowers" and "Littlest Birds" from Catalpa, "Mad Tom of Bedlam" (brilliantly played on that 'Bo Diddley' rectilinear fiddle of hers!) and "Old Fashioned Morphine" from Escondido, nothing at all from Springtime Can Kill You (bored of those songs from last tour?). Interesting extras included a wild fiddle tune composed by a Native American (she didn't say who), a gorgeous reading of "Buckskin Stallion" by Townes van Zandt and a song at the piano composed by an eccentric friend of hers (banjo player, didn't catch the name - has composed a song cycle based around his own life and Dante's inferno).

They were just getting into the swing of it, when the 10pm church curfew kicked in - so no encore (Why didn't she give Sam a shorter set and start earlier? Oh well...)

Here are some clips from that Roundhouse gig: