Hugh Hopper RIP

The legendary Soft Machine bassist is no more. Andy Bard broke the news to me in Avebury on the afternoon of the summer solstice - he'd actually died a couple of weeks previously, but I'd missed the obituary.

I've since been listening to some of favourite Hopper-period live albums and bootlegs, LOUD with the bass turned right up. It's almost miraculous just how good they were, and how mighty his bass sounded a times.

The last time I saw him was looking frail, sitting at the back of a benefit gig that friends had organised for him last December. The first time was onstage at a one-off festival out at Merton Farm near Canterbury in 1990 (the precursor to the successful Lounge on the Farm festivals now held on that site, which is very close to Simon Langton, the grammar school attended by both Hopper brothers, Mike Ratledge and Robert Wyatt).

Here's a very nicely put together video tribute someone has put together:

And this was just found on the PlanetGong website:

"Dear Hugh Hopper passed away the afternoon of Sunday 7th June. Our thoughts and love go out to his wife Christine, their young daughter Rosa, and to all Hugh's close family and friends. He was a lovely, unassuming, gently humorous man who was always a joy to be with - and of course he was a unique, stunning, innovative creative musician.

As we reached Fasano for last Saturday's Gong concert, Daevid told me he had received a message that Hugh reached the final hours and very early this morning as we queued for US work visas we heard the news that he had gone. Daevid just quietly said that besides Robert, Hugh had been the person he had played music with the longest. He will be so missed.

And here is a link that I was sent today to a nice interview with Hugh from 1998. It gives just a little flavour of what a personable chap he was."

"Hugh Hopper will be laid to rest at a natural Burial Ground in Kent this Thursday 25th June.

It will be a Tibetan Buddhist Ceremony to respect Hugh's wishes and there will be opportunity for a few musicians to play by the graveside to say goodbye. Afterwards there will be lunch at a local pub and then a gentle walk. No flowers please; however, donations offered will be shared between the Brabourne Ward at Canterbury Hospital and the Kangyur Rinpoche Foundation.

Do not cry because I die
Do not cry as I am
Drifting alone on the
Seashore of light
Rejoice in the light of love, my love
Into the pure light above
The Rainbow light where
I am free of suffering
And bright.

From me to Hugh and all his great friends and family
love,
Christine Hopper

For those who wish to offer a donation instead of flowers for Hugh's funeral, Christine asked me to tell you that cheque (€/£) could be done in her name (Christine Janet) and she will dispatch it herself to the Brabourne Ward Canterbury Hospital and the Kangyur Rinpoche Foundation.

There will be a concert in Hugh's homage Saturday 27 June (20:00) at the Club LE TRITON in Paris - Les Lilas. You will find also CDs of Hugh's music. The benefit of this concert and CDs sale will go to Christine."

summer solstice '09

Another musical summer solstice adventure...

Friday 19th: I spent the afternoon cycling the ancient Ridgeway track from where it begins near Goring, met Jim (he of Red Dog Green Dog) at Wayland's Smithy after stopping at Uffington White Horse and Dragon Hill to play a bit of contemplative saz. We camped in some nearby woods with Paul, another Ridgeway pilgrim we met there, sharing food, drink and music (saz and concertina jams).

Saturday 20th-Sunday 21st: Jim and I cycled rest of Ridgeway to Avebury, bumping into Nathan (also on a bike) in nearby East Kennet. We met Stef (with several instruments) and Rosie (without her harp, unfortunately) in the stones as people were starting to gather for the evenings spontaneous festivities. Eventually, we all trailed up to Windmill Hill to find Paul (who'd walked in on the Ridgeway) with Andy Bard, his druidic doctoral supervisor Graham, girlfriend (g)Nomi and a Finnish activist friend called Mikka.

There was a great vibe and some celestial jams that night. Nathan played some gorgeous folk guitar and sang a couple of songs in Welsh, Andy got out his numerous solstice/sunrise songs and Stef led various modal ("Dongoid", in Nathan's words) jams - mandolin, saz, mandola, two concertinas. At one point during the night, we processed back down the hill to check out party in the stones, playing the Cornish tune "Constantine" (twin concertinas and saz) the whole way, for some reason. Stef got into piping in the stones, but it was all a bit hectic for me with the chaotic drumming and alcohol. I orbited the henge and ended up playing a bit for a friendly couple chilling out under a blanket by a big quiet stone in The Cove. Then back up to the fire. Dave "Nusphere" Prentice had arrive, but unfortunately had to leave shortly before dawn. Before leaving he gave me a CD of some of his latest work (psy-trance, and his own eclectic mix of electronic styles, including something really gentle and beautiful with a tinkly piano line, that reminds me of múm). This also included a couple of tracks involving my saz (recorded when he visited last December) mixed with his friend Paul's didg and his electronics.


the barrow from which we attempted to watch the sunrise (photo by S. Greville)
The merriment and music continued until dawn, when we headed out onto one of the hilltop round barrows for a very subtle sunrise (a little rose-tinted cloud was all we got). Andy, Jim and I were jamming on some modal psych-space groove (based on Andy's song "Waiting for the Dawn"), wondering where Stef had gone...then he appeared, processing up to the barrow playing his pipes ("just when you thought it couldn't get any better," said Paul, who seemed pretty blown away by the whole experience). Nomi passed on greetings from Sharron Kraus, her housemate in Oxford (who I saw play in Canterbury last year, and subsequently got to know via an ongoing email philosophy discussion). The whole of Sunday - the longest day of the year - was spent, as with last year, making tea and philosophising round a little fire with Stef and others (a bit of music, but talk dominating).

Monday 22. Stef, Paul and I gradually headed over to Fyfield Down (everyone else having drifted away), via Avebury. Stef and I ended up jamming with Pixie, the wild Cardiff minstrel, and Lynn (playing cello) outside the pub. It felt particularly good to be playing with Pixie again (Inge and I met him in that very pub 14 years earlier). And it was great to see a cello being played outside a pub (in a stone circle!). He was delivering passionate versions of his own songs, also The Levellers' "Sold Down the River", a brilliant "One More Cup of Coffee" (with his own lyrics interpolated), a sort of hymn to the land (which he claimed to be a Nick Drake rewrite, although I'm not sure about that), Zep's "Over the Hills and Far Away", etc.

Niall, an old face from Avebury gatherings, was outside the pub interviewing people for his "Shamanic Freedom Radio" podcast which he presents under the name "OpaqueLens". You can hear a little bit of me and Stef playing in the background of this episode from about the 30-minute mark, then me be interviewed about the so-called "Watkins Objection" while Stef carries on playing.

We then met Daygan (of Dragonsfly) and a friend who had turned up for the afternoon on their motorbikes, and end up in stones with them having little jam, he on borrowed mandola, Stef on concertina, me on saz. Up on Fyfield Down there was more fireside tea and chat in a little hawthorn and elder grove, a little bit of jamming and a mysterious buzz that eventually transpired to be a little bumble bee colony right next to our fire.


Tuesday 23rd: We went our separate ways - Stef back to Wales and Paul over the Marlborough Downs to get a bus home. I cycled along the Ridgeway, past Pixie and co. in what looked like a little pirate encampment, past the Sanctuary, stopped at the incredible beech grove on Furze Hill to play a bit of saz, then went for a long walk on the Wansdyke to Tan Hill and Cliffords Hill and back again, stopping to jam on Adam's Grave. I slept under a gnarled old hawthorn tree on nearby Golden Ball Hill that night.

Wednesday 24th: Coming down of Golden Ball Hill and down the side of Knap Hill, I was asked about my instrument by a friendly Scotsman, then recognised by someone I'd met below Silbury Hill three or four years ago. She then introduce me to Kirsty Morris from the downtempo electronica duo Life Audience who went and got her guitar - I jammed along with their song "Blue Skies Indeed", and she seemed sufficiently into what I was doing to start making plans for some studio work (I've since listened to a load of their tracks, and it's lovely, dreamy, floaty chilled music - reminds me of what I used to hear on Gilles Peterson's Worldwide radio programme when I was a regular listener some years ago). I then walked down to Alton Priors to sit and jam inside the 1700-year-old yew tree and record a bit inside the church. Then it was back on the bike, up over the Wansdyke and on to West Kennet Long Barrow. I recorded a few minutes of freeform saz in there between tourist incursions, then had a good look at Silbury Hill, pushed/cycled over Waden Hill, headed up The Avenue to meet Vicky, who'd come up from Devon for a couple of days (and brought a bicycle, usefully). We ended up cycling out on the Ridgeway and camping in a lovely beech copse on Hackpen Hill.

Thursday 25th. We cycled to the Uffington White Horse and back, via Waylands Smithy (stopping to have tea on the barrow). I jammed a bit on Dragon Hill and beside the 'Horse' (I'm sure it's not meant to be a horse!), looking out over the incredible land formation known as 'The Manger'.

I've compiled the small amount of material I recorded with an edit from one of Dave's aforementioned saz/didg tracks and a couple of recent overdub experiments (one involving Andy Ra's gorgeous 12-string guitar and the other involving Jim's concertina and some ridiculous 'statistical funk' vocalising!)

Listen Here

Patti Smith!

Dave and I met up in London to see Patti Smith performing as part of the Meltdown Festival at the Royal Festival Hall (curated by Ornette Coleman this year) on Thursday 18th June. I'd been waiting twenty years for this, and it was worth the wait.

The Guardian review is just about spot-on. Patti's found the perfect backing band for her current phase of poetic and musical creativity in the form of A Silver Mt. Zion. To use a much overused adjective, and to reclaim it's original meaning, the combination was really quite awesome.

Here's a clip of the "Ghostdance" encore, which ended in a transcendent standing/singing/clapping ovation:



The support act was Soap&Skin, which consists solely of a 19-yr old Viennese singer/pianist called Anja Plaschg. This was a huge surprise for almost the whole audience, I think, and would have been worth the trip to London even if Patti Smith had cancelled. Some of her pieces were just voice and piano, some involved pre-recorded electronics (which I'm guessing she was involved in programming). This was the most successful attempt to integrate live playing into prerecorded electronics that I've yet to witness. It was as if she were filling a grid of geometric cells with organic material, the whole thing perfectly integrated. But her voice - WOW! (as one audience member shouted after the first piece) - if you think back to the first time you ever heard Grace Slick, Sinead O'Connor, Kate Bush, Björk - that kind of impact. The lyrics were murky, partially comprehensible, reminding me of the way Mark Hollis sung on his remarkable eponymous solo LP and the last couple of Talk Talk albums. She got up from her piano to face the audience and sing the last piece to a purely electronic backing - as I was trying to decide whether or not I thought this worked, she'd done a little bow and disappeared off the stage. Not a word spoken. I expect we'll hear a lot more from her in coming years. An album came out earlier this years called Lovetune for Vacuum, which I'll have to track down.

chipboard stages, inflatable stages, apostrophes and gold stars all 'round

I was lucky enough to see the wonderful Cocos Lovers twice last weekend. Saturday evening they played in a pub garden in Eastry, and on Sunday at a festival in Tenterden.

I'd been to a funeral on Friday and was still feeling rather emotionally torn up the next day, so I had to push myself to go out, but I'm so glad I did. I cycled the 12 or so miles out to Eastry along back roads in the golden evening light - East Kent at its most beautiful - and got to The Bull Inn, to find that the band had started early (they'd decided at the last minute to play two sets). So I got to hear the last couple of songs of their first set - the one sung by the accordion player (she whose name I have yet to deduce) which I'd heard a week before ("Fire in My Heart"?) as well as a new one, which may be their best yet...despite a false start and a verse being lost in joyful laughter, it was evident that this was something very special. And, we were told, they'd only written it the day before. It's got a slightly disorienting rhythm to begin (hence the false start!), a beautiful melody emerges and breaks down to the line "The howling wind/is no friend of mine", gradually evaporating into wordless six-part a capella harmonies which would have impressed Hildegard von Bingen. I spoke to Nicola the flute player afterwards, and she wasn't even sure what they're going to call it (possibly "Horizons").

This was the perfect antidote to grief. It was a beautiful sunny evening, and there were one of the best bands I've ever come across, happy and relaxed up on a hastily-constructed chipboard stage, a nice, clean outdoor sound (in contrast to the sonic murk of OSMC a week earlier), a few dozen friends and family sitting listening, kids and dogs running around, a makeshift game of badminton... Before handing over to an acoustic duo (half of a band called Demolition Sky), who played some pleasant John Martyn-influenced stuff, Will introduced his seven-year old son Henry who confidently took the mic and displayed his seriously impressive (for a 7-yr old) beatboxing skills. James joined in on his drumkit, and Nicola added some flute - wonderful! Big up Henry. I look forward to hearing him beatboxing with the full band!

Will came over for a chat (I was tucked away under a big rosebush in the middle of the lawn), and gave me (despite my attempts to pay) a copy of their debut EP The Story of Lunatic van Rogue. Henry turns out to be one of three kids the band have collectively spawned - there's also his sister Emily (seen running around happily during the gig), and the newly born, and splendidly-named Hector (the reason that the band were a six-piece the first couple of time I saw them - the full band now includes his parents on accordion and drums).


front and back EP cover
The second set started with "Dead in the Water", one of four or five joint-favourites of mine at the moment - their harmony singing brought a tear to my eye. It was one of those occasions where I just felt grateful to exist, to be able to witness such sonic beauty. "The Drowned Sailor (Homeward Bound)" was especially welcome to my ears, and we were treated to another rendering of that remarkable new song. They thought they were finishing with the rousing "Old Henry the Oak", but the pub landlady still hadn't come out to impose the 9:00 curfew, so they sneaked in one more, an absolutely exquisite "Moonlit Sky".

To add to the list of musical resonances I've detected and noted in earlier bloggings on this band, the accordion player's contributions (both box and super-high harmonies) brought to mind Iceland's múm as well as the fragile beauty of The Gentle Waves and some of the Sarah Records catalogue. Also, the light-touch jangle of the electric guitar playing had me thinking of Orchestra Baobab, the Four Brothers, and other African electric guitar bands of the 80's. Now, I've made the same observation about the way Liam and Raven from Syd Arthur play their guitar and mandolin parts, so am I just projecting this, or is it really there? Well, as the other five members started packing up, Dave (electric guitar), Bill (bass) and James (drums) suddenly launched into and oddly familiar, quirkily funky rock groove...and it was Syd Arthur's "Willow Tree"! I knew these bands knew each other, as SA's bass player Joel had mentioned that Cocos had invited them along to events in Deal some time ago when they were getting started. But they're obviously fans, as this was a pretty convincing reproduction - just a few bars, though. Will attempted a line of the song, laughed and gave them a quick plug ("There's this band called Syd Arthur...you should really see them..."). And that was it.

As with every other time I've seen this lot, I felt intensely happy to be alive on the journey home.

The next day, I put my bike on a train to Ashford, then followed Sustrans National Cycle Route 18 along the River Stour, out of the sprawling mess of that town, another 12 or so miles through the Garden of England to the little town of Tenterden. The community has been hosting a free weekend music festival called "Tentertainment" (hmmm) the last couple of years. It's a bit like the old Brighton or Deptford Urban Free Festivals, without all the funny haircuts, drugs, dogs and general chaos. All very nicely organised and family-friendly. Lots of stalls selling food and drink - not exactly vegan/organic, but generally quite wholesome, of local origin, and moving in the right general direction.

I sat down and listened to a young bloke called Jimmy Harrison and his mate, playing acoustic guitars and singing their way through some originals and covers ("Tainted Love", "That's Entertainment"). In contrast to the tiny chipboard stage in the garden of The Bull, this was pretty huge, covered and largely inflatable. I suppose this is becoming the norm. While the raffle was going on (one of the three prizes being a couple of pairs of socks!), facilitated by an amusing Kentish geezer/MC, I noticed that where I'd chosen to sit down (in front of the mixing desk), numerous little coloured metallic stars were scattered in the grass. To give the litter-picking crew a headstart, I extracted eight gold ones. My intention was to give them to the Cocos crew (i) as an alternative-currency payment for their excellent EP; and (ii) for excellence! (one each).


my alternative currency payment for the band's EP
In the end, I couldn't actually get near them due to the incongruous security barriers built around the stage (quite what for, I'm not entirely clear), but they've been known to read this blog, so, lovely people, here are yer stars! Should anyone interpret this as a review (I don't do quantitative reviews of music), it's out of 5, not out of 10...

The MC/geezer had refered to them as "The Cocoa Lovers", so I had assumed he didn't know who they were, but once they'd set up, he gave them a heartfelt introduction which was clearly based on having seen them before ("one of the loveliest things you're ever likely to see"), and they launched into "Dead in the Water". Ohhh... Sunshine, beautiful wispy cloud formations, peaceful people sitting around on the Earth, kids running around playing - and this music. They were back to being a six-piece on this occasion (Hector had been christened earlier in the day), so Phillipe played bass drum and tambourine with a pair of foot pedals while simultaneously playing banjo/mandolin/acoustic guitar and singing. No "Moonlit Sky" this time, but they did attempt their new song (very bravely) again. Will joked that Dave (electric guitar) hadn't played it before - they'd practiced in the car on the way there, despite the fact that he (Will) was driving. Despite only having heard it for the first time less than 24 hours earlier, this song seems to be embedded somewhere deep in me (like Fairport's "Farewell, Farewell", or something else that I've known for twenty years or more). A classic, I think.

* * *
When I arrived at the pub in Eastry, I noticed that the sign outside said "Cocos Lovers (formerly The Faraway Tree)". So there's been a name change. I'm not sure which I prefer. "The Faraway Tree" has a slight Enid Blyton tweeness about it, but in some ways captures something of the timelessness and otherness of their music. It's also the name of an electronic band from Nelson in New Zealand (I've busked there!), as well as a Wiltshire blues band, which might be one of the reasons for the change(?) I'm still waiting to find out who Coco or what Cocos is. The lack of apostrophe suggests that the latter is relevant here (the genus name for the coconut family?), but then apostrophes do often go missing - I found one in the woods in Cornwall once, but that's another (entirely true) story. Their bass drum has their name painted on it, and there's a black blob above the "s" which might just be an apostrophe. I'm sure all will become clear in due course. Anyway, for now, here's a picture of a heron which Nicola drew (it appears on the actual disc of their new EP):


Will mentioned that a lot of people who'd bought the EP had later said it didn't really sound like the band when they play live. That's often the case (often due to misguided attempts to polish the sound in the studio), so I wasn't expecting it to sound as good as it does. They've pitched the level of production just right, in my opinion. The instruments were all played live, together, and those magical vocals were recorded separately. I look forward to the next one (launch party at The Farmhouse in Canterbury, 3rd July).

Cocos Lovers - Oxfam Benefit

Cocos Lovers, rapidly becoming one of my very favourite bands, came up from Deal to headline an Oxfam benefit at Canterbury's Orange Street Music Venue on Saturday night.

The place was pretty much full, although there seemed to be very little interest in the music - people, presumably there for charitable reasons, or just 'cos it was somewhere to go on a Saturday night, just talked through the first couple of acts (grrr!). Cocos had everyone's attention after a couple of songs, tho', I'm glad to report. They had a bit of a struggle with the duff OSMC acoustics (Joel from Syd Arthur doing his best on the desk), especially as there are eight of them, with almost all acoustic instruments (which they sometimes swap in mid-song), and their sound was consequently a bit harsher than suits it, but none of that mattered. Despite the fact they could hardly hear each other (I was later told), it didn't sound like that from where I was, and there were a lot smiles visible onstage – it was evident that both band and audience were enjoying the experience hugely.


Nicola and Will from Cocos Lovers, at a gig in Chatham earlier this year
On this occasion, they were like dozens of my favourite bands all compressed into one – six voices singing beautiful harmonies which made me think of the Watersons, the loads-of-people-onstage-making-a-joyous-noise communality of the Blue Aeroplanes in their heyday, the cheerful folkiness of early 70's Fairport Convention, the poetic sensitivity of the Go-Betweens, a glimmer of the Dream Academy's "Life in a Northern Town", even a bit of the energetic spirit of The Clash somewhere there in their battered-but-beautiful musical cauldron. I'm getting quite familiar with their repertoire now, so was happy to hear some interesting new arrangements.

There was an accordion player amongst their ranks who I'd not seen before – she's been away, having a baby, and has just rejoined, we were told (it was hard to hear her accordion, but she sang lead on a beautiful song and joined in on the harmonies throughout).

One song near the end of the set took me by surprise by starting with the chant "Earth my body, water my blood, air my breath and fire my spirit". Unfortunately, I associate this with po-faced, overly solemn German hippies at Rainbow Gatherings (who even inspired a parody version which, I expect, still circulates in that scene: "Earth my socket, water my plants, air my socks and fire my employees"!) But their harmony vocals, overlaid with some mildly dissonant guitar lines, re-invented it for me and I was able to hear these powerful words anew...they then morphed the chant into thundering "Cracks and Boulders" (I think).

As they finished their set, I found myself wishing my arms were a couple of yards longer so I could give them all a big collective hug! Lovely people making lovely music... As I attempted to leave, shuffling past Will and Phillipe from the band, I was very surprised when they simultaneously recognised me (from that tiny picture above) as the author of this blog! They'd been in touch a while back in response to a little piece I wrote after first seeing them, but I didn't expect them to know what I look like. I had a long chat with Will, and even ended up being invited to come down to a festival near Tarragona with them in October! The organisers of this are looking for bands from Spain to fill out the line-up, so there have since been moves to connect Cocos with my (Barcelona-based) friends Gadjo.

And I even got raffle ticket no. 23 (didn't win anything 'though...but I walked home feeling like I'd won a HUGE prize).

There's quite a lot of Cocos Lover clips now up on Youtube, I'm glad to see. Here's a good introduction to a band it would be hard not to love:

newly-surfaced Dongas recordings (Cornwall, 12/97)

I recently received some video footage from Max, someone who used to periodically visit the Dongas camp right back to the Twyford Down protest days - something of an archivist. He visited us in the woods near Constantine in Cornwall in December 1997 and did a lot of filming (something that wasn't always appreciated at the time!). From the 4+ hours he sent, I've extracted about 45 minutes of audio (rather rough jams and some Irish tunes from an evening session in the bell tent).


the bell tent in Bosahan Woods
Listen Here
There's also this, my first incursion in the world of video editing:


This was put together from some footage which involved me and Inge, plus Joel and visitors Mick, Helen and their daughter Jasmine going to check out a fogou called Pixies Hall just across a couple of fields from our camp in the woods. It's the only footage I'm aware of which involves me and Inge playing our instruments (other than the group jams Max filmed in the bell tent). There was a Swiss cameraman who filmed us playing up on Silbury Hill during the summer solstice in 1995 - I'd really like to see that (if you're out there, Mr. Swiss Cameraman...)

Devon, again

I got back from a week-and-a-bit in Devon about a week ago.

This included a couple of nights at the low-key music camp at the undisclosed Dartmoor which I've blogged about a few times before. These were the first two nights, so things were only just getting started - not so many musicians and a fairly mellow vibe. I was glad to see Jon E. Aris was there (I help him set up a his ridiculously ramshackle tent - one rescued from a post-Glastonbury festival site about a decade ago and had a real laugh in the process). He's got a new, very little, accordion, which he was just getting used to, so his songs were performed in a hilariously chaotic way (he's one of those people who can get away with that - it's all in his energy...and he's 74!).

Several of the wonderful South Hams Boogie Band, having taken everyone's advice and adopted a new name - they're now called The Three Radicals (despite there being loads of them) - were present: Kris playing very tasteful acoustic bass throughout, affliate Dave-the-luthier playing his hybrid mandolin thing and Shane doing his vocal thing. My saz accompanied a lot of their familiar songs and a couple of brilliant new ones ( a wild instrumental called "Vlad the Inhaler" and another sort of Gadjo-like piece with the call-and-response lyrics "How'd you eat your elephant?/one mouthful at a time""). Shane's 13-year old son Pedro seems to have suddenly become an excellent guitarist, and seemed to be able to play most of the White Album (as well as some rather inappropriate Zappa material!).

On the second day, I took advantage of the fantastic weather and went up the nearby hill to sit in a stone circle and practice my parts for some Inge tunes that we're going to record together later this year (we hope). I had an earphone in one ear with Inge playing fiddle and accordion, and at times it felt like years ago, sitting together jamming in a stone circle (as we used to do). Every now and again a skylark would hover directly overhead and sing, so I'd just have to stop, lie back, and be awed by its endless musical inventiveness. (I also heard my first cuckoo of the summer at camp - which inspired me to play a sparse version of "The Cuckoo" around the fire that night, during a lull - I'm almost always accompanying other people's stuff when I'm there).


(part of) Mardon Down stone circle - photo by M. Mitchell
I headed back into Exeter for and extended Orbis Tertius? session with Henry and Keith - an afternoon jam, a shared meal, and more jamming into the evening. No gigs on the horizon (perhaps a brief slot at a tiny festival in early July), so it's not really clear where that project is going, but it's still fun to get together and play.

Also, while in Exeter, I watched a terribly edited amateur documentary called Rock My Religion with Vicky and Thomas. It contained a lot of interesting threads, but they were tangled together into a dreadful mess - comparing the 19th century Shaker movement to punk, etc. - lots of quotes (largely uncredited) and footage worth checking, despite the appalling editing job.

What else? Thomas switched me on to Bibio and Vicky to Super Numeri. We enjoyed the lovely acoustics in St. Catherine's chapel near Abbotsbury after a walk along the Dorset coast from Bridport - no saz, so I just had to whistle. There was an evening up at CCANW (Haldon Hills, COTD played there once without me) celebrating the work of Devon-based sculptor Peter Randall-Page - several films featuring the man, including one involving a percussive/sculptural collaboration with deaf Scottish percussionist Evelyn Glennie, another called Rock Music Rock Art involving PR-P stone carving on Lolui, an island in Lake Victoria while a handful of London Sinfonietta musicians (somewhat stiffly) attempted to collaborate with some groovy Ugandans banging on monstrous naturally formed stone "gongs", etc. (I imagine that oboe player must have had a nightmare with her reeds out there!)

Back in Kent, on Monday I finally got to see Eric and the Acoustic Alliance at OSMC (Dom, (Miriam and numerous friends) - covers and originals, continually shifting line-up, loose, busky approach to performance (they're almost all drama students, or were). Every song in an entirely different style, including a reggae song written the night before, a Django-inspired sing-a-long and a cover of a Mumford & Sons song with Dom on guitar and lead vocals, the rest of the band just singing backing. Ubiquitous Canterbury soprano sax player Jimmy Ross was packing in the solos, Dom playing some great bass, and teaching the other bass player how to play blues in mid-set (they'd run out of material!), Miriam speed-reading E.H. Gombrich's A Little History of the World and singing scat. Lots of fun, but the levels were all over the place (couldn't hear a lot of the vocals, nothing of Miriam's fiddle).

Pok and friends caught on camera nicking Syd Barrett's "Bike"

This just showed up on Pok's blog. It seems that Aurelie (seen here playing slide whistle) is now called 'Lilith'. Not sure who that is on the frame drum. I've always liked it when Pok mixes in whimsical psychedelic covers with his (sometimes very dense and cryptical) originals. The audience certainly seemed to like this one.