Sunday, December 29, 2024

Happy Birthday Patti Smith!

Wishing a very happy birthday to Patricia Lee Smith born on December 30, 1946, and better known to her many admirers as Patti Smith. She is an American singer, songwriter, poet, painter, author, and photographer. Patti was described as the ‘High Priestess of Punk’ when her 1975 debut album Horses made her a leader of the punk rock movement with her fusion of rock music and poetry. In recent years Patti has become as renowned as a writer as she is as a musician with the publication of such memoirs as Just Kids and M-Train. It was because of her books that I decided to write a little birthday tribute today to Patti...... You may recall that back in November I wrote a little piece about a trip to Yorkshire when two friends and I visited Sylvia Plath’s grave in the village of Heptonstall

Well, only a couple of weeks ago I was researching for an article about Albertine Sarrazin in Patti’s Book of Days, and lo and behold, on Page 512 for October 26 I stumbled across a photo of Patti Smith in the exact same location as us at Sylvia’s graveside. (See photo at top) This is what Patti has also said elsewhere about Sylvia, ‘This is a picture taken at the grave of Sylvia Plath in Heptonstall, taken by Tony Shanahan. I found it in my old copy of Ariel, given to me by Robert, a long time ago. In rereading her poems I am remembering the great impact they had on me at twenty. Half a century later I am still struck by her mastery, her sharp yet silky tongue, the tragic loss of her. I have visited her resting place many times.  In snow, dark with solitude and in sun, shrouded in wildflowers'. ........The Robert referred to there is her late boyfriend, the photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. Patti seems to have a special affinity with Yorkshire because since finding that photo I have discovered some other interesting links. The town of Hebdon Bridge which is adjacent to Heptonstall has been devastated by floods in recent years. Out of the kindness of her heart Patti played a concert to 190 people in the towns Trades Club and donated all the proceeds to the flood relief fund. 

That isn’t all, because another reason for Patti’s frequent visits to this area is her love of the novels and poetry of the Bronte sisters. (See video below of Patti in Haworth) Some of the lyrics of her biggest hit Because The Night were inspired by Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. Patti played another concert to a tiny audience in the Schoolhouse in Haworth (see photo) It was the very building where Charlotte Bronte's wedding reception was held in 1854.  Patti donated the money raised to the Bronte Society. 

I also discovered a couple of days ago that Patti isn’t the only great writer and music composer to be born on December 30 because it is also the birthday of Paul Bowles.  On Wikipedia it says, Paul Frederic Bowles, December 30, 1910 – November 18, 1999 was an American expatriate composer, author, and translator. He became associated with the Moroccan city of Tangier, where he settled in 1947 and lived for 52 years to the end of his life. He studied music with Aaron Copland, and in New York wrote music for theatrical productions, as well as other compositions. He achieved critical and popular success with his first novel The Sheltering Sky (1949), set in French North Africa, which he had visited in 1931. In 1947, Bowles settled in Tangier, and his wife Jane Bowles followed in 1948. Tangier was Bowles's home for the remainder of his life. Bowles died in 1999 at the age of 88. I have never listened to any of Paul Bowles music compositions, but I have read The Sheltering Sky and many of his short stories. It was a friend of mine Fred who introduced me to his work when he gave me a collection of short stories. Coincidentally it was in Fred’s flat in 1976 that I first heard Horses by Patti Smith. I am mentioning all this because Patti also admired Bowles work, and she actually met him. It was quite sad because he was very old then and died only two years later. This is what Patti said about their meeting. (I found these words on a website called The Marginalian.)

I was first introduced to Bowles in a serendipitous way. In the summer of 1967, shortly after I left home and went to New York City, I passed a large box of overturned books spilling out into the street. Several were scattered across the sidewalk, and a dated copy of Who’s Who in America lay open before my feet. I bent down to look, as a photograph caught my eye above an entry for Paul Frederic Bowles. I had never heard of him but I noticed we shared the same birthday, the thirtieth of December. Believing it to be a sign, I tore out the page and later searched out his books, the first being The Sheltering Sky. I read everything he wrote as well as his translations, introducing me to the work of Mohammed Mrabet and Isabelle Eberhardt. Three decades later, in 1997, I was asked by German Vogue to interview him in Tangier. I had mixed feelings about my assignment, for they mentioned he was ill. But I was assured that he had readily agreed and that I would not be disturbing him. Bowles lived in a three-room apartment on a quiet street in a straightforward fifties-modern building in a residential section. A high stack of well-travelled trunks and suitcases formed a column in the entranceway. There were books lining the walls and halls, books that I knew and books I wished to know. He sat propped up in bed, wearing a soft plaid robe, and appeared to brighten when I entered the room. I crouched down trying to find a graceful position in the awkward air. We spoke of his late wife, Jane, whose spirit seemed to be everywhere. I sat there twisting my braids, speaking about love. I wondered if he was really listening.—Are you writing? I asked.—No, I am no longer writing.—How do you feel now? I asked.—Empty, he answered'. ......  
On Wiki I also found out that yet another great person was also born on December 30, but this time in 1879 which was the Indian sage Ramana Maharshi. I discovered him via Eckhart Tolle. I have been reading a book about Ramana Maharshi recently, so I might write about him in 2025. Anyway, happy birthday to the one and only Patti Smith, and don’t forget.... People Have The Power! (I have added a video below of Patti singing a Bob Dylan song from the last time we saw her which was 3 years ago in Bath)

Friday, December 20, 2024

Astragal by Albertine Sarrazin.

I haven’t written anything for a while, so today I will try and make up for it by telling you about a book which I finished reading on Wednesday night. It is called Astragal by a French writer called Albertine Sarrazin. I suppose the first thing to explain is where Astragal comes from. Well, it is the French name for what is called in English the talus, a small bone in the ankle which transfers the entire weight of the body from the leg to the foot. The protagonist Anne breaks her astragal jumping 30 feet from the top of a prison wall in order to escape. I should also explain how I discovered the book. It is all thanks to Patti Smith. When you become a fan of Patti it is like walking into a library or an art gallery. She wants to share her enthusiasms with you. The books she has written are littered with references to artists who have influenced her. Patti seems particularly drawn to French poets and writers such as Rimbaud, Verlaine, Baudelaire, and Jean Genet. The French have also taken Patti to their heart. She was awarded the Légion d’honneur in 2022. Patti discovered Astragal in a Greenwich Village bookshop in 1968. She was drawn to the cover which proclaimed Albertine as the ‘female Genet’.

Recently I was perusing Patti’s Book Of Days when on page 368 I came across a photo of Patti’s copy of Astragal and a picture of Albertine. With her short, cropped hair and elfin 1960s looks she reminded me slightly of a young Julie Driscoll. Also, in my mind’s eye I imagined her as Beatrice Dalle in the film Betty Blue. That was enough for me. I knew I had to buy the book. The copy I found on eBay published in 2013 said, ‘Introduction by Patti Smith’ which is why I chose that edition.  Patti’s intro is a great piece of writing. She says, ‘Perhaps it is wrong to speak of oneself while writing of another, but I truly wonder if I would have become as I am without her. Would I have carried myself with the same swagger, or faced adversity with such feminine resolve, without Albertine as my guide?’. The American translator Patsy Southgate also deserves a shout out for being a writer with a French soul, empathising with her subject.

Astragal is a fictionalised account of part of Albertine’s own life. Nothing happens to the protagonist Anne which didn’t also happen to Albertine, so I’ll just tell you briefly about her short life. She was born in Algiers in 1937 and abandoned by her Spanish teenage mother. At the age of two she was adopted by a French couple who took her to Aix-En-Provence. Aged 10 she was raped by a relative. Although she was a brilliant student and gifted musician, she constantly rebelled against her adoptive parents who tried to mould her into something she wasn’t. They revoked the adoption and sent her to a reform school in Marseille ironically called The Refuge of the Good Shepherd. She waited until easily passing all her exams before escaping to Paris where she reunited with Emmaline a love interest from school. They lived a precarious life of prostitution and crime before being arrested for a bungled armed robbery. Albertine received a seven-year sentence at Fresnes Prison. In prison Albertine kept a journal and wrote, and wrote, and wrote. In 1957 she escaped when transferred to Doullens reform school. Breaking her ankle during the escape she crawled to the roadside where purely by chance she was rescued by Julien Sarrazin who was also a habitual criminal. This is where the story of Astragal begins.

I won’t tell you any more about the book because hopefully you might read it for yourself, but it is an account of their life on the lam, moving from house to house of Julien’s criminal contacts, always with the knowledge of inevitable re-arrest.  I don’t think it is the greatest book I’ve ever read, but it gripped my attention throughout. I read it in three late night sessions. I couldn’t help but like Albertine despite her life outside the law. She shows no hint of remorse, but you can understand her rebellion against society and authority after her childhood experiences. 

In real life she and Julien were married in prison and Albertine was finally released in 1965. Astragale and La Cavale were published to best-selling great acclaim and she and Julien left their life of crime. In 1967 she had to have kidney surgery which should have been a routine operation, but it was botched, and she died from complications aged only 29. It was a tragic end to an eventful and promising life. Julien successfully sued the hospital for negligence. 
Her journals, poems and letters were published after her death. Thank you very much to Patti Smith for introducing me to Albertine Sarrazin who lived her short life like a shooting star.

Tuesday, December 10, 2024

Film Review: Small Things Like These.

I don’t go to the cinema very often these days. I think the last film I saw before last night was The Unlikely Pilgrimage Of Harold Fry starring Jim Broadbent. However, when I saw that Small Things Like These was showing at the Odeon in Trowbridge I knew I should make the effort to go. This was because a friend of mine spoke highly of the film after seeing it recently. Also, you may recall that I wrote a review of the original novella by Claire Keegan which was published in 2021, so I was keen to see if the film was faithful to the book. The film is directed by Tim Mielants who I haven’t heard of before. He doesn’t have a Wikipedia entry which suggests to me that this is his directorial debut. If that is the case, then I think he has done an excellent job in portraying Ireland during a difficult economic period of the 1980s. He brilliantly captures the bleak rainy pre-Christmas mood of the book, even down to little details like the ominous crows on the roofs. The book is adapted for the screen by Irish playwright Enda Walsh who largely sticks to the plot of Claire’s original story. Cillian Murphy who takes the lead role of the coal merchant Bill Furlong also produced the film. Cillian deserves an award in my opinion for his brilliant performance. 

The protagonist Bill Furlong is a man of few words who largely lives in his own thoughts. He is going through a kind of mid-life crisis, struggling with what Eckhart Tolle would call the pain-body, and brooding on childhood trauma, such as being bullied by other kids and witnessing the death of his mother, also wondering where his father is. Because he is such an introverted, quiet, but kindly character it takes a great actor to portray him. The performance isn’t in the dialogue so much, but all in the eyes and facial expressions, even washing the coal off his hands is an expression of what is going on in his mind. It is a wonderful, understated performance. Another actor worthy of an award is Emily Watson as the Mother Superior Sister Mary. Even when she is speaking politely you can tell by the look in her eye that she is as hard as flint.

I can’t say much more for fear of giving the story away in case you see the film yourself, but Bill makes a discovery which brings matters to a head, leaving him with a moral dilemma. He must make a decision. The film ends abruptly which took the audience by surprise, but that didn’t matter because the film had made its point. I can see why Claire Keegan called her book Small Things Like These. One small courageous action can play a big part in ending a long-standing evil. I was reminded of Rosa Parks when she refused to give up her bus seat to a white person, or when Greta Thunberg refused to go to school until something was done about climate change. Small things like these can have big results.

Sunday, December 08, 2024

Monday, November 25, 2024

If Nick Drake Came To My House by Mackenzie Crook.

Storm Bert seems to have blown itself out. It is a nice sunny day here now. I was just thinking about going for a walk when the post lady knocked on my door and handed me a parcel. It contained a book If Nick Drake Came To My House by Mackenzie Crook. This was a little bit of a coincidence because it was 50 years ago today that Nick Drake passed away aged only 26 at his parent’s house in Tanworth-in-Arden, Warwickshire. I knew the anniversary was coming up, that was partly the reason I ordered the book, but I didn’t expect it to arrive on the exact day of Nick’s anniversary. My initial reaction on opening the book was disappointment because when I ordered it from Rough Trade, I thought I was ordering a copy signed by Mackenzie. I can’t be bothered with making an issue of it, and all the hassle of sending it back.

I have always liked Nick Drake’s music, ever since 1971 when I heard  an Island sampler album called El Pea. I know he was a brilliant guitar player and singer-songwriter, but I can’t claim to be the worlds biggest Nick Drake fan. I know some people have to own every song and outtake there is, but I only have two albums, his debut Five Leaves Left, and a compilation called Way To Blue, plus another collection of his songs sung by other artists. I’ve also got a CD of songs by his mother Molly Drake, and you may recall me reviewing a concert of The Unthanks where they performed Molly’s songs. I’ve also read about three biographies of Nick. Undoubtedly my favourite of those is the first one Pink Moon by Gorm Henrik Rasmussen published in Denmark in 1986 and then translated into English by Bent Sorenson.

What finally made me decide to buy this book is because I am a big fan of Mackenzie Crook. I have enjoyed everything I have seen of his work, from his portrayal of Gareth in The Office, to the brilliant Detectorists which he created, and Worzel Gummidge which he also wrote and directed. I knew he was a big music fan and used songs brilliantly in his work. Who can forget The Unthanks song Magpie in The Detectorists? I didn’t know he was a huge Nick Drake fan though until hearing about this book which is a kind of a homage to a children's book which Mackenzie loved as a kid called If Jesus Came To My House by Joan Gale Thomas. As well as being a great actor, writer, and director Mackenzie can also add another string to his bow, which is illustrator. The charming drawings and printing style are very faithful to Joan Gale Thomas’s original artwork. The story is written in very simplistic childlike verses. I think it only took me about 10 minutes to read it all. It is a book that can be enjoyed by children or adults. I did notice one typo error. On page 28 it says Fives Leaves Left instead of Five Leaves Left. Sack the proofreader! That is a minor criticism though. I think this book would make a great Christmas gift for any Nick Drake or Mackenzie Crook fan.



One Of These Things First - Nick Drake

Sunday, November 24, 2024

No Flowers Grow In Cement Gardens by A Lazarus Soul.

Storm Bert has been battering Britain for the past two days, so I haven’t left the house since Friday. I thought I would pass the time this evening by telling you about my latest CD which arrived a few days ago. It is called No Flowers Grow In Cement Gardens by an Irish band A Lazarus Soul. I discovered this group only a couple of weeks ago when Christy Moore covered two of their songs on his latest recording. The band are Anton Hegarty – Bass, Julie Bienvenu – Drums, Joe Chester – Guitars, Keyboards, BVs, String Arrangements, and Briany Brannigan – Vocals. All the songs are written by Briany. The groups name comes from his nickname Lazarus which his mother gave him because of all the childhood illnesses that he overcame. The front and back covers are both associated with St Brigid with a Brigid’s Cross on the front and a Brigeod (small handmade doll) on the back. I think this might be ironic because hanging up a Brigid Cross is supposed to bring you peace, protection, and prosperity, but that doesn’t apply to a lot of the downtrodden people who inhabit Briany’s songs. 

I wish a lyric sheet had been included because I like studying lyrics and have had trouble sometimes understanding what the songs are about. Because of finding the band via Christy I think I was expecting to hear some simple acoustic folk songs. There are elements of that, but I would describe the sound as indie folk-rock. It can get quite heavy at times. The subject matter of the songs shows Briany has a great social conscience, dealing with the problems of people living on the margins of society. The opening track Black Maria begins with an eerie keyboard sound before the ominous sound of drums and bass kick in. A Black Maria is a police van. The song appears to be about the erosion of civil liberties and the right to protest. I did manage to find the lyrics to the second song The Flower I Flung In Her Grave and it shows what a great poetic lyricist Briany is, almost like a nature poet, for instance-, ‘There's a blaze upon the bog, On sphagnum mattresses we lie, Through the dewy dusk we'd roam, where the outlands were our own, We were the catchers of the spark, Blacklisted lovers in the dark, & that swan, a soul in flight, Those dark wings cutting through the night’

Sound wise I was reminded of Damien Dempsey, but that is probably due to the Dublin accent. The Dealers is a much gentler sounding song, more like what I was expecting to hear. It tells the story of two market traders Bridie and Jessie who dream of better days. Fuzz fiddle legend Steve Wickham of Waterboys fame adds a great sound to this track and one other with violin and viola.(See video below) Julie’s drums return to the fore on G.I.M which means Garda Information Message which is a green official written warning issued by the Gardaí to let people know of a threat to their life. They have to be delivered by hand, accompanied by a leaflet advising how to take basic security measures. 

New Jewels is a deceptively gentle song, but with tragic lyrics, and I’m not sure what it all means. Wildflowers is a great very rowdy song that reminds me of The Pogues. I’m sure this song must go down a storm when performed live. Diver Walsh and Glass Swans are two poetic songs with such enigmatic words I wouldn’t attempt to explain them. Factory Fada is a lot easier to understand for the likes of me. I think Fada must mean fodder. It’s about people whose destiny is set by the age of eleven. It is the sad story of two friends Francis Fitzgerald and Francis Maguire who suffer at the hands of a sadistic teacher. It begins with a quite folkie sound before descending into a chaotic cacophony. The final track No Flowers gave the album its title. It features a little sample of the late reggae legend Lee Scratch Perry. I have enjoyed listening to this album the last few days. I think I will grow to love it after a few more plays. It took me a few plays to really get into Lankum a few years ago, so I expect the same will apply to A Lazarus Soul. I think they would be very popular if they played Glastonbury next summer.



a lazarus soul - The Dealers

Wednesday, November 20, 2024

Old Postcards.

It was July 1st 2007 when the smoking ban in British pubs began. That brought about big changes in our local pub. The smokers had to sit outside in a little area opposite the skittle alley. This was all very well until it rained, so one skilful customer took it upon himself to build a proper shelter with a Perspex roof which let the sunlight in. He also planted a grapevine which quickly grew all over it. One side had to remain open to keep within the law. Within a couple of years, on a warm summer’s evening, sitting out there was almost like being in the south of France. It got so popular even for non-smokers that some evenings it was hard to find a seat. We had some great times out there over the years. Some people even sent postcards to their friends in the pub when they went on holiday.

This gave me an idea of how to brighten the place up even more, and I asked my Facebook friends to send postcards to the pub from wherever they lived in the world. A steady stream of postcards began arriving from all over the globe. For quite a while most evenings when I arrived at the pub more cards would be waiting to be pinned on the walls. We almost ran out of space to pin them all up. Inevitably though after two years or so the stream became a trickle, and then the cards more or less stopped arriving altogether, apart from one couple who faithfully continued to send cards right up to recently. It was fun while it lasted, and very kind of people to send them. For nearly a decade the cards remained on the walls, slowly fading and gathering dust. Then recently we heard the news that the pub was changing hands, and the brewery that own it wanted our little corner taking down. 

I should have taken one last photo before the work began, but I didn’t think of that. Luckily our friend the pub landlady salvaged the postcards and returned them to me as it seemed a shame to just throw them away. I brought them home in a plastic bag and tipped them out on the floor. Lots of great memories tumbled out of that bag. Sadly, some of the people who sent those cards are no longer with us. Anyway, I counted them all, there were 158 readable cards in total from 27 different countries. The most popular countries were England (as you would expect), USA, Republic of Ireland, Greece, Australia, Canada, France and Spain. There were also cards from Sweden, Malta, Italy, Switzerland, Wales, India, Netherlands, Poland, Czech Republic, Cyprus, Portugal, Northern Ireland, Scotland, Germany, Denmark, New Zealand, Egypt, Croatia, and the most unusual one for me which was a card from Laos in South-East Asia. 

There were also a few other cards which were so faded and decayed they were unreadable. One of my personal favourites was a card my late brother Paul sent from Shakespeare & Company bookshop in Paris showing the poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti and the shop owner George Whitman. In the pub I pinned a card from City Lights Bookstore in San Francisco next to that one as they went well together. I expect I will consign them all to the bin before too long because they don’t have any intrinsic value and are in quite poor condition. However, if you are one of the kind people who sent us the cards, It is impossible to thank everyone personally, but thank you very much indeed.

The Good Old Days.

Sunday, November 17, 2024

A Terrible Beauty by Christy Moore.

 

A terrible beauty is born’ are words from a poem Easter, 1916 by W. B. Yeats describing the poet's torn emotions regarding the events of the Easter Rising in Dublin which began on Easter Monday, April 24, 1916. Those prophetic words of Yeats must have inspired artist Martin Gale to produce a painting called A Terrible Beauty. When Christy Moore saw Martin’s painting, he knew that he had found a title for his new album and a design for the sleeve. The painting is very striking, but also ominous and threatening, like the world we live in today, with the wars in Gaza and Ukraine and other problems in society which Christy confronts on this album. However, I’m pleased to see there is still time for joy and humour among these 13 tracks. Reading the sleeve notes I see that the album is dedicated to his friends Tommie Gorman and Vince Power. Because of living in England I don’t know a lot about Tommie, but  had the pleasure of meeting Vince on a couple of occasions at Nell’s Club in London and agree with Christy that he was a great man.

The outstanding opening song is Boy In The Wild which is a collaboration between Christy and the late Wally Page who Christy worked with for 45 years. Christy made only the second ever video of his career to accompany this song. You can find it below if you scroll down. It is a brilliant little film which explores the sometimes-distant relationship between fathers and sons, but at the end of the day the son can rely on his dad because he had similar experiences himself in his youth. Incidentally, Christy's own son Andy Moore sings very effective backing harmonies on this song and some other tracks. When I opened the package from Claddagh I was pleased to find a lyric sheet print of this song signed by Christy himself. Mike Harding has introduced me to some wonderful music over the years on his late lamented show on Radio 2. I especially remember the time he played a request for me by Vinnie Kilduff from Kiltimagh, and Mike waxing lyrical about his Mayo friends. 

Christy here reads a lyric of Mike’s called Sunflowers inspired by the war in Ukraine. It is from Mike’s book The Lonely Zoroastrian. I have mentioned in previous reviews of Christy’s work what a great spoken word voice he has. It is 40 years now since I bought my first Christy album Ride On and his voice is as good as ever. One of the best things about being a follower of Christy Moore is that he leads you to discover new music. I had never heard of a band called A Lazarus Soul before this album, but Christy has included two songs written by their singer Briany Brannigan called Black & Amber and Lemon Sevens. I think the Black & Amber must refer to a pub because the song is about the dangers of alcohol dependence which Christy knows all about. Christy stopped drinking decades ago thankfully and his career has blossomed ever since. The song is acapella apart from Andy's harmonies. I had never heard of  Lemon Sevens before. Apparently they are little pills that are crushed up and smoked. The song is a harrowing tale of drug addiction, homelessness and the people we often see wandering lost in the centre of big cities. 

These two songs made me curious about A Lazarus Soul which led me to ordering their latest album No Flowers Grow In Cement Gardens. I’ll tell you all about that when it arrives. Broomielaw is the name of a major street in Glasgow. It is also the name of a wonderful traditional song that Christy learned in 1964 from Mick Moloney later of The Johnstons who I have written about previously on this page. Mick Blake is another singer-songwriter who I discovered thanks to Christy. Cumann Na Mna is a song of Mick’s that Christy added to. It is a hilarious catchy retort to Rob Wotton of B Sky B who suggested to Irish footballer Chloe Mustaki that the team needed educating. 

Chloe Mustaki
The Rock is a short and sweet banjo instrumental played by Cathal Hayden assisted by Jimmy Higgins bodhran and Sean Og Graham on guitar. The Life And Soul is a moving mainly spoken piece by Christy using the words of an anonymous person who actually knew Ann Lovett. If you don’t know about Ann Lovett, she was a 15-year-old schoolgirl from County Longford, Ireland, who died giving birth beside a grotto on 31 January 1984. Her baby son died at the same time. Lyra McKee is a song written by James Cramer about another young woman who also met a tragic death. 

Ann Lovett
Lyra was a journalist who on 18 April 2019 was fatally shot during rioting in the Creggan area of Derry. Darkness Before Dawn was written by Pete Kavanagh and tells the story of an event in 1921 in Christy’s hometown of Newbridge where a military operation went badly wrong with tragic consequences for an innocent family. The mood is lightened then by The Big Marquee written by Christy himself which is a lively humorous affectionate tribute to the city of Cork. One of those funny name-dropping songs like Lisdoonvarna which Christy does so well. I think that song was meant to end the album on a high note, but Christy felt compelled to add two more songs Palestine and Snowflakes. The first is by Jim Page about the ongoing horrific events in Gaza. The final song by Martin Leahy is about the anonymous trolls who attacked him on social media while hiding behind pseudonyms, afraid to use their names.

This album is a fine addition to Christy’s great body of recordings. The voice is still in top condition, and he continues to find meaningful thought-provoking songs for us to listen to, so long may he continue. Also, don’t forget his companeros Gavin Murphy, Jimmy Higgins, Cathal Hayden, Seamie O’Dowd, Sean Og Graham, Andy Moore, Martin Leahy, James Blennerhassett, Oisin Murray and everybody else who contributed to producing this wonderful work.

 

Friday, November 15, 2024

RIP Pete Sinfield. (27 December 1943 – 14 November 2024)

I was very sorry to hear today that Pete Sinfield has passed away aged 80. It was less than a year ago that I wrote a little story about finding a rare signed book by Pete. I thought I'd repeat it today as a tribute to Peter Sinfield. This is it........
You know how in my last blog piece a few days ago I said I had started dealing in books again, and I said that it was only a hobby, but I might find some nice books on my travels. Well, I never thought that would come true so quickly, and I didn’t even have to leave the house. It seems like serendipity to me, or synchronicity, what ever you want to call it. Anyway, it happened by chance in a most happy beneficial way. A few months ago, a very good friend of mine kindly gave me a copy of a signed limited-edition book of lyrics by Kate Bush called How To Be Invisible. It is a wonderful book that I wouldn’t dream of selling. Last Thursday morning I started reading it. 

Kate had written a very interesting introduction and in the last paragraph she said, “When I was about sixteen, I bought a book of lyrics and poems by Pete Sinfield. He was the lyricist for the progressive rock band King Crimson. It was fascinating and not like the other books of poetry I had. It wasn’t that there was anything missing from the written lyrics, but there was definitely something different about them. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on……..
This information piqued my interest. “Hmm, I wonder if that book is still available”, I thought to myself. So, I looked online. It is the only book Pete Sinfield published and called Under The Sky. I was disappointed to find out that it had been out of print since the 1970s. There were no copies available from Amazon or any other online bookshops I could find. 

Then I looked on eBay and was shocked to find just one copy for sale for £450!. I didn’t give up though, and wondered if the Oxfam book shop might have a copy……and they did! . Not only that, but it was also signed by Pete himself. Best of all it was priced at less than a tenth of the unsigned one on eBay. I couldn’t believe my luck, clicked ‘Buy Now’ and it was mine. It arrived in the post today, and I am well chuffed with it. The dust jacket is quite creased and has some marks on it, but you have to expect that in a book that is half a century old. The inside of the book is fine and has Pete’s signature under a photo of himself. It also has beautiful illustrations by a lady called Julia Fryer. It contains all of the lyrics that Pete wrote for King Crimson up to 1972.

My favourite of his songs is I Talk To The Wind. They are all here, In The Court Of The Crimson King, The Wake Of Posiedon, 20th Century Schizoid Man and many others. For the time being this book is a keeper. Thank you very much to my friend for the Kate Bush book which led me to learning about her influence Pete Sinfield, which in turn led me to find this rare and wonderful book. Things do happen in mysterious ways, which proves to me that everything is connected.


 

Saturday, November 09, 2024

Visiting Sylvia Plath In Heptonstall Churchyard.

It is now Saturday night, and only two days since I returned from Yorkshire, but the memory is already beginning to fade like the mists on the moors, so I thought I should tell you about it now before I forget something important. I arrived in Wakefield on Sunday afternoon where my friends Jacky & Bill were waiting patiently at Westgate station because my train was over an hour late. On Monday morning we met up with another very close friend who was visiting, and loves the north of England. We visited Wakefield Cathedral and a small museum. Sadly, the interesting places such as Yorkshire Sculpture Park and the Hepworth Gallery were closed on Mondays. It was nice to go for lunch in a very pleasant pub called The Castle. 

The highlight of Tuesday for me was an afternoon walk through St Aiden’s Nature Reserve which covers 877 acres of a former open-cast coal mine which was flooded from the nearby river Aire. It is now in the care of the RSPB (Royal Society For The Protection Of Birds). The path passed through a variety of habitats including reedbed, wetland, meadows and woodland which are home to many species of bird including cormorants, the Eurasian bittern, little owl, western marsh harrier, Eurasian skylark, black-necked grebe, black-headed gull. Northern lapwing and common redshank. It felt good to have some fresh air and exercise.

I have wanted to visit Hebden Bridge for a few years now. You may recall I wrote a piece a couple of years ago called ‘Hebden Bridge, Circa 1971-74’. These days it is a popular tourist attraction famed for its arts and culture and has a vibrant music scene. It is home to artists, writers, photographers, musicians, alternative practitioners, teachers, Green and New Age activists and wealthier 'yuppie' types. You might know it from the popular TV drama Happy Valley which was filmed there. Well, on Wednesday morning Jacky & Bill kindly offered to take me there. I didn’t enjoy the first part of the journey along the M62, but as soon as we got off the motorway it was wonderful looking at the places and countryside along the Calder valley. The first place I wanted to see wasn’t actually in Hebden Bridge, but in the hills above it, a small village called Heptonstall

This is because I had heard that the poet Sylvia Plath was buried there in St Thomas’s churchyard. I can’t claim to be a big fan of her work. In fact, I don’t recall ever reading a book by her. I do remember that my partner Kim related to something in Sylvia Plath’s work because she had two of her books The Bell Jar and Ariel. I think Sylvia mainly appeals to a female feminist readership. I do however know about her tragic life and marriage to Ted HughesWe had no trouble finding her grave because as we arrived four girls who were leaving through the gate directed us straight to it. She must have thousands of visitors every year. 

What I noticed immediately was there had been attempts to remove HUGHES from her headstone. My opinion is that it was very arrogant of him to include his name. They had separated after she discovered his affair with Assia Wevill. If Sylvia hadn’t committed suicide, no doubt they would have divorced, and she would had reverted to being known simply as Sylvia Plath. The other question is why is she buried here at all? It was Ted Hughes who came from this area, not Sylvia who was American, she should have been returned to her home country in my opinion. I don’t want to be too hard on Ted Hughes. I don’t blame him entirely for her death. From what I have read I don’t think she told him about her history of mental illness and previous suicide attempts before they married. I don’t think I should say any more about their relationship because only they knew the truth.

After we left Sylvia’s graveside we discovered the grave of another poet only a few feet away. Asa Benveniste (August 25, 1925–April 13, 1990) an American-born poet, typographer and publisher who was born in New York and settled in England in the 1950s. In the 1980s Benveniste and his second partner Agnetha Falk moved to Hebden Bridge where they ran a second-hand bookshop. When he died in 1990, Benveniste was buried in the graveyard of Heptonstall church, with a gravestone that reads: "Foolish Enough to Have Been a Poet". He was both pleased and amused that his grave was to be within speaking distance of Sylvia Plath a few feet away. So, I think he deliberately chose this spot as his final resting place. I hadn’t heard of Asa before, but have since read that besides being a poet, in London during 1965, he co-founded and managed the pioneering Trigram Press, which published work by George Barker, Tom Raworth, Jack Hirschman, J. H. Prynne, David Meltzer, B. S. Johnson, Jim Dine, Jeff Nuttall, Gavin Ewart, Ivor Cutler, Anselm Hollo, and Lee Harwood, among others. In 1966, Trigram Press produced the second and final issue of a little magazine called Residu, which included work by Alexander Trocchi, William S. Burroughs, Harold Norse, Gregory Corso, Harry Fainlight, Gerard Malanga and other Beat Generation and underground writers. I have read quite a few books by some of those writers, so Asa was quite an important figure on the British literary scene.

After that churchyard interlude, we retired to a pub The Shoulder Of Mutton in Hebden Bridge for a pleasant lunch. The weather was so mild for November we were able to sit outside. Then we had a look around Hebden Bridge. In a charity shop I found a CD by David Gray called White Ladder. I bought it for 50 pence and gave it to Jacky & Bill because a couple of nights earlier I had said to them, “David Gray is playing in Bath soon if you want to come and see him”. I was amazed that they had never heard of David Gray. On the way home I insisted that they play David Gray. My favourite track is ‘Say Hello, Wave Goodbye’. I think they liked it. (See video below) 

That evening we met up with Jacky’s brother Chris and his wife Denise who I hadn’t seen for about 40 years, so it was wonderful to see them again. Next morning I headed home. The great thing was I had Jacky & Bill’s company as far as London because they were going to visit their grandchildren. We said farewell at Kings Cross. I had said hello, and waved goodbye to my too brief trip to Yorkshire, but I hope we meet again before too long.  



David Gray - Say Hello, Wave Goodbye.

Monday, October 21, 2024

Willie Nelson: The Tao Of Willie.

Today I thought I would tell you about a book I have enjoyed reading this past weekend. The Tao Of Willie, by Willie Nelson and Turk Pipkin. A friend of mine gave me an excellent album by Willie Nelson a couple of years ago called A Beautiful Place, and listening to songs like Energy Follows Thought (See song below) and Live Every Day made me realise that Willie is a philosopher as well as being a great singer-songwriter. Willie was in his 70s when this book was published in 2006, and he is 91 now, so he must be doing something right. The Tao or Dao is the natural order of the universe according to East Asian philosophy and religion which has meanings including 'way', 'path', or 'road'. In order to have a happy and healthy life it is important to live in harmony with the Tao. The book is a very entertaining collection of Willie’s words of wisdom on living a happy life. To me his philosophy seems to be a mix of Buddhism, Cherokee, and cowboy wisdom. Willie understands that happiness isn’t an emotion, it is our natural state of being. It is the negative thoughts of our conditioned mind that makes us think otherwise. 

Laughter is a bi-product of happiness, so consequently Willie’s book is full of humour and jokes, even if I have heard most of his jokes before. There is one chapter on ‘The Golden Rule’ which is "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you". That is a quote from the bible but is common to all the major religions. Willie practices meditation everyday and talks about the importance of being aware of our breathing. Most people go through life totally unaware of the fact that they are breathing. He says we should, ‘Sit, Listen, Breathe, Dream, Renew’.  The important thing is to live in the present moment, ‘Be’ happy, not ‘Been’ happy. Willie says that we should take time to slow down and smell the flowers, or in his case smoke the flowers 😊

Willie has plenty of practical advice for healthy living as well, such as the importance of drinking lots of water instead of alcohol and caffeine which dehydrate us. He says we should drink six to eight glasses of water a day. “Pee more and live longer”, is Willie’s motto on that subject. I don’t agree with everything that Willie comes out with. He seems to have been influenced by a Father Taliaferro, pastor of the non-denominational St Alcuin’s Community Church of Dallas Texas. I looked him up on the internet and found out that he was a Rosicrucian and a Freemason which all seems a bit dodgy to me. 

I don’t want to appear negative though, so I’ll concentrate on the things I do agree with. I like Willie’s political views. He is a close friend of Jimmy Carter who I think is the most well meaning and honourable US President of the last 50 years. I’m glad they have both lived long enough to vote for Kamala Harris in the coming election. Willie has a lot to say about the weaknesses in the American voting system, especially the Electoral College where a candidate can win the popular vote but lose the election. This has happened twice in recent times, so I am praying that doesn’t happen to Kamala Harris. There are also some nice anecdotes about his close friend and neighbour on Maui Kris Kristofferson who passed away recently. Overall, I really enjoyed reading this book of the wit and wisdom of the one and only Willie Nelson who is an American national treasure.




 

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