Slouching Towards 2022.

I haven’t written anything for a few days, so I thought I would pass the time on this grey windy Thursday afternoon by writing something. Although the weather is quite miserable here, it is ridiculously mild for the time of year, 14 degrees C at the moment. I hope you have had a good Christmas. It has been very quiet for me. I have avoided the pub this week because of Omicron sweeping through the country. I think you would almost certainly catch it in crowded pubs.

I saw on the BBC News just before Christmas that the American writer Joan Didion has died aged 87. I heard the news with a feeling of sadness and regret. The regret was that although I have owned two of her books, I didn't read them. When I said on my blog page a couple of years ago that I had found a first edition of her book South And West, From A Notebook, a good friend of mine recommended that I read The Year Of Magical Thinking which was a Pulitzer Prize winning book inspired by the death of her husband John Gregory Dunne and the severe illness of her daughter Quintana. I never got around to reading it unfortunately.

However, to try and make amends, three days ago I found my paperback copy of Slouching Towards Bethlehem and because there wasn’t anything on the TV worth watching I started to read it. It is her first nonfiction book, published in 1968 and is a collection of essays that she had written for various magazines such as Vogue and The Saturday Evening Post. I was pleased to see that the title of the book comes from a poem The Second Coming by W.B. Yeats. (That poem also mentions a rough beast which is where I think Van Morrison might have got the song title Rough God Goes Riding from, but that is by the by) The book is divided into three sections, and so far I have read the first section called Life Styles In The Golden Land which is mainly about the authors experiences in California in the 1960s. The first essay concerns her coverage of the murder trial of a woman called Lucille Miller who was found guilty of killing her husband when he was asleep in a car. Her motive was the double indemnity insurance if death appears to be an accident. The wife of the man she was having an affair with also died in strange circumstances, but no action was taken against her lover. The article was originally published in 1966, so there is no account of what happened to Lucille Miller subsequently. The story intrigued me, so thanks to google and Wikipedia I found out that Lucille was released after seven years and died in 1986. 

The next essay is called John Wayne, A Love Song and concerns her observations of John Wayne and Dean Martin filming The Sons Of Katie Elder. Joan said in her article in the September 15, 1965, edition of Vogue magazine, “This is an old-fashioned action Western. Very old-fashioned... In fact, I have a good time at movies like Katie Elder. I like the country and I like John Wayne and I like Dean Martin and I like gunfights. If you don’t, don’t bother”. Where The Kissing Never Stops is a story about Joan Baez and a school which she founded in California called The Institute for Non-Violence. Comrade Laski is about the American Communist Party. 7,000 Romaine, Los Angeles 38 is about Howard Hughes and what he represents. I think Joan Didion found these subjects interesting because by observing them she is wondering what they say about American society, or all western societies. Marrying Absurd looks at the crazy wedding chapels in places like Las Vegas and Reno Nevada. The title story Slouching Towards Bethlehem Joan Didion saw as the most important in this collection. She became acquainted with the kids of the counterculture of Haight-Ashbury San Francisco in 1967. 

It is not a rosy picture that she paints. In the introduction she says that meeting these people proved that ‘things fall apart’. I wonder if she changed her view in later years. I know there were some really bad things that happened, such as when she witnessed a five-year-old child that had been given LSD, and then there was heroin and people like Charles Manson. I think despite the bad stuff, some good things did evolve from the hippy movement, such as Greenpeace, Friends Of The Earth, spiritual growth, vegetarianism, many other things and don’t forget, some great music. I have read 110 pages so far and have two sections of the book still to read, called Personals and Seven Places Of The Mind. I’ll try and finish the book in the next few days. I’m only sorry that it took the death of Joan Didion to prompt me to read her work. Happy New Year.

Bill Nighy. Wild Mountain Thyme.

Joni Mitchell - River.

Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan.

Apart from a brief trip to the post-office I haven’t left the house since Monday. I have been quite content staying in with my music and books. I am still trying to finish reading Nausea but was pleased to put Jean Paul Sartre aside for a few hours yesterday when a book arrived in the post from a friend in Ireland. It is called Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan. I hadn’t heard of Claire before, but I am very grateful to my friend because I absolutely loved this book. I’ll just tell you a little about the author. She was born in County Wicklow in 1968, the youngest in a large catholic family and was brought up on a farm. She published Antarctica her first collection of short stories in 1999 to great acclaim. Her previous book Foster won many awards and is on the curriculum of the school leaving certificate in Ireland. Small Things Like These is her most recent book, published earlier this year. I would describe it as a novella because you can read it in a few short hours, as I did yesterday. Published by Faber it is a very attractive book even to hold in your hand. The dust jacket design is from a painting by Peter Breugel the Elder called Hunters In The Snow. It is a desolate scene of an unsuccessful hunt and crows can be seen on the branches of bare trees. Crows also figure prominently in the pages of this book, and I see them as an ill omen. It is a very apt and clever design because it sets the scene and the mood of the book even before you have started to read.

The timing of this book arriving is perfect because it is set in the town of New Ross in the days leading up to Christmas 1985. The protagonist in the story is a coal & timber merchant called Bill Furlong. He was born to an unmarried mother who died when he was twelve. He was brought up by his mother’s kindly employer, a lady called Mrs Wilson. He worked hard to build up his business, got married and has five daughters. Although on the surface he has a happy marriage and feels quite lucky and content, he often wonders who his father is. He treats his workers well and shows kindness to those less fortunate, but his wife seems to think he is too soft and should just look after his immediate family because the economy was going through a tough time in 80s Ireland. One day while out delivering coal he makes a discovery that leads him to a moral dilemma. 

I won’t tell you anymore about the story because I hope you will read it for yourself. Some of the story makes quite grim reading, but I found the conclusion very spiritually uplifting. It is about having the courage to do what is right, rather than worry about what others may think. We know from history that evil thrives when people look the other way. I loved reading this book because of Claire Keegan’s style of writing. It is very simple. A lesser writer might have made the story three times as long. With Claire Keegan every sentence is to the point, concise and carefully constructed. Even so, the characters and landscape are portrayed beautifully. You feel that you know this place and people. I wonder if the youngest daughter Loretta was based on Claire Keegan herself because she seems to know her very well. 

There is a lot of symbolism in the story, apart from the crows. and just one sentence can contain a whole lot of meaning. In one scene Bill gets lost and sees an old man with a scythe cutting thistles and asks him where the road leads to, “This road will take you to wherever you want to go, son”. 

I learned a couple of Irish words reading the book. I think leanbh means baby and puckaun is a goat. Also, Bill’s friend Ned sings a song called The Croppy Boy. I looked that up as well and found the song came from the rebellion of 1798 and a croppy means a rebel. I wanted to hear the song and found a beautiful live version from 1965 by a singer I didn’t know called Anne Byrne who sounds to me like an Irish Joan Baez. I have shared it below if you would like to hear it. I can’t think of anything else to say now apart from that I highly recommend this book and I look forward to reading more stories by Claire Keegan.

The Croppy Boy - Anne Byrne

"Some of These Days" Ethel Waters

Review: Flying Into Mystery by Christy Moore.

It was a dark and dirty morning and my day had just begun. Storm Barra was battering Britain, so I knew I wouldn’t be venturing out today. There was a knock on the door. It was a soggy postman with a package for me. I knew what it was, a new CD by Christy Moore called Flying Into Mystery. Great! that was my day sorted out. I made myself a cup of tea and sat down to give the music my full attention. It is two years since the wonderful live Magic Nights album, and five years since Lily his last studio album was released. I must say that at the age of 76 Christy’s voice sounds as good or better than ever. He is ably assisted on this new album by Jim Higgins on percussion and organ, Seamie O’Dowd on guitar, harmonica, bouzouki, mandolin, fiddle, banjo, bass, and vocals, Gavin Murphy on keyboards and orchestral arrangements, Mark Redmond on uilleann pipes, James Blennerhassett on double bass and Christy’s son Andy Moore on backing vocals.

The opening song Johnny Boy was written by the late great guitar player Gary Moore. The song originally featured on Gary’s 1987 album, Wild Frontier, and was a tribute to his friend and former Thin Lizzy bandmate, Phil Lynott. (The name Johnny cropped up in a lot of Phil Lynott's songs, and also album titles) I have written previously about when I saw Gary when he was only 18 and in the band Skid Row. I still think to this day that Gary was one of the greatest guitar players of all time. He wasn’t the greatest of singers though in my opinion, which is why I prefer Christy’s version of this great song. It tears you up emotionally, especially if it reminds you of a lost friend or loved one. As well as the voice, the harmonica and soulful pipes are played exquisitely. (Listen to Johnny Boy below) Clock Winds Down is a very topical reminder of the climate catastrophe which is already happening to the planet. It is written by Jim Page, who wrote Hiroshima Nagasaki Russian Roulette, which Christy recorded with Moving Hearts. I wonder if Greta Thunberg has heard this song. I think she would approve.

 On Christy’s previous studio album Lily one of my favourite songs was The Gardener written by Paul Doran and on this album another song by Paul is included called Greenland. You can notice the similar poetic style in the lyrics, which are obviously written by someone who is close to nature. Christy’s son Andy also sings on this track. Flying Into Mystery has been previously recorded as 16 Fishermen Raving. When I read the lyrics on Christy’s website https://www.christymoore.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/Lyrics-and-Sleevenotes-Flying-Into-Mystery.pdf I couldn’t understand the significance of fishermen carrying a caul, so I googled it and found that in folklore people believed  that possession of a baby's caul would bring its bearer good luck and protect that person from death by drowning. Cauls were therefore highly prized by sailors and fishermen because a caul was regarded as a valuable talisman. The next song is Gasun which is another word I didn’t understand until recently. I think it means young boy or lad. Probably similar to the French word garcon meaning boy. It is a sad song by Tom Tuohy and Ciaran Connaughton about homelessness. All I Remember is another song that Christy has recorded before. It is written by Mick Hanly and although the words are humorous there is a dark undercurrent from the days when priests and nuns called the shots. I can relate to all that because although brought up in England I went to a catholic primary school where we were taught by nuns, the Sisters of Charity. Some of them were awful, but I tell you they weren’t all bad. There was one called Sister Theresa who always gave me a present on St Patricks Day.

December 1942 is lyrically one of the most harrowing songs I have ever heard. It is a graphic description of a train full of Jewish people arriving at a concentration camp. Christy has dedicated it to Tomi Reichental and in the sleeve notes it says that Tomi has written a book called I Was A Boy In Belsen. I might read that book soon. The song is written by Ricky Lynch from Cork. Although it is difficult to listen to this song, I think it is important to be reminded of the fragility of so-called ‘civilisation’ and how easy it is to descend into chaos and hatred. You only have to look at the news to see how fascism is again rearing its ugly head around the world. Van Diemen’s Land is a traditional song which Christy learned from Mike Waterson in Hull in 1968. As you know, if you read my stories on here regularly that I am a big fan of The Watersons. 

Bord Na Mona Man is another song which got me googling. I found out that Bord Na Mona is a semi-state company in Ireland, created in 1946 by the Turf Development Act 1946. The development of peatlands involved the mechanised harvesting of peat, which took place primarily in the Midlands of Ireland. The song shows the great sense of humour that Christy is blessed with. I love the banjo playing by Seamie as well. 

Zozimus

Myra’s Caboose also has some funny lyrics. Christy heard it played by Willie Clancy in 1964 as The Gander and Christy has put his own re-arrangement to it, set it in an old railway carriage and changed the title. Zozimus & Zimmerman is an interesting song. Wikipedia tells us that Michael J Moran (c. 1794 – 3 April 1846), popularly known as Zozimus, was an Irish street rhymer. He was a resident of Dublin and known as the "Blind Bard of the Liberties" and the "Last of the Gleemen". Zimmerman as you know is none other than Bob Dylan. The two come together in this very clever song by Christy and Wally Page. There is almost a complete setlist of Dylan songs in the lyrics. The album closes with a fabulous rendition of Dylan’s I Pity The Poor Immigrant. This song has also taken on new meaning recently when you look at the plight of refugees around the world. I have mainly mentioned the lyrics in this review, but I must say that the arrangements on this and other songs by Gavin Murphy are wonderful and all the musicians deserve praise. This album is a fine addition to the great body of work by the one and only Christy Moore.

Christy Moore - Johnny Boy.

Chaise Longue by Baxter Dury.

Baxter & Ian Dury.

It is Friday evening, and I am listening to a CD called Ten More Turnips From The Tip. It is the last studio album by Ian Dury And The Blockheads released in 2002, two years after Ian’s death. It is a very enjoyable and underrated album with some great tracks such as It Ain’t Cool, Dance Little Rude Boy Dance, Cowboys, & One Love. I hadn’t played it for years until I was reminded of it yesterday. I remember vividly the night I bought the album. It was when The Blockheads played at The Cheese & Grain in Frome about fifteen years ago. When I got home that night and went to play the album I was disappointed to find that there was no CD inside the case. Next day I tracked down the bands phone number and rang up to complain. To my surprise it was Micky Gallagher the keyboards player who answered the phone. He passed me on to a nice lady who was on their management team. It turned out that I had accidentally been given a display item. I ended up having a great chat with her about Ian and the band. I told her how I had always felt a connection to Ian because he taught my brother at Canterbury Art College which is where Ian formed his first band Kilburn & The High Roads with some of the students. A few days later a correct complete CD arrived in the post.

The reason I was reminded of this album is because I have just finished reading a book called Chaise Longue by Baxter Dury. Baxter is Ian Dury’s son who was born in 1971. I found the book so enthralling and moving I read it all in one day. If you know the album New Boots & Panties which is one of my favourite records of all time, you will have seen the famous photo of Ian and Baxter on the cover. Baxter was only about six years old when that album was released. His book Chaise Longue is a memoir of his turbulent childhood. His elder sister was called Jemima and his mother was Betty. Ian and Betty separated and were finally divorced in 1985. Baxter later had two half-brothers, Bill and Albert when Ian met sculptor Sophy Tilson. Because of coming from a broken home Baxter’s early years were divided between spells of living with Betty or Ian. The book chronicles this chaotic period in his life. It is funny and sad in equal measure. Just to write it is a remarkable achievement because Baxter doesn’t appear to have had a proper education at all. He was always playing truant, refusing to go to school, or getting expelled. It is a wonder that he can read or write at all. 

Ian was often absent, away on tour, or filming and Baxter would be left in the care of some strange characters such as Pete Rush who was a six-foot seven roadie and drug dealer who was known as the Sulphate Strangler because of his habit of picking people up by their neck. That is what reminded me to play the album again, because there is a track on it called Ballad Of The Sulphate Strangler. There are other amazing characters in the book such as Alfie Rowe known as Spider, and Kosmo Vinyl. I remember Kosmo because one night when we saw Ian Dury & The Blockheads at Bristol Hippodrome the band shone a spotlight on the audience and picked out a girl for a spot prize. She went onstage all excited, and Kosmo presented her with a packet of Scotch eggs. The book is called Chaise Longue because living in this chaotic environment with a motley crew of strange people coming and going there often wasn’t a bedroom for Baxter to sleep in, so he often slept on an old Edwardian daybed in the living room which Ian called the chaise longue.

Ten More Turnips.

It was a difficult upbringing for Baxter, but Ian and Betty must have done something right because Baxter has become a very successful musician in his own right and has made about six highly acclaimed albums of his own and is now a writer. Reading the book hasn’t changed my view of Ian Dury. He had a very hard life. He contracted polio at the age of seven which left him paralysed on one side. That would have broken a lot of people, but Ian achieved great things in art and music and acting. He was a national treasure. Nobody since has equaled Ian Dury for writing such witty, poignant and funny lyrics as in his songs. As well as Jazz, Soul & Funk, Ian loved English Music Hall which is where the humour in his lyrics came from. Songs such as Sex & Drugs & Rock N Roll, Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick, Reasons To Be Cheerful, There Ain’t Arf Been Some Clever Bastards & What A Waste are classics of British music. Ian had to be hard in order to succeed. It was a tough world for a raspberry ripple (Cockney rhyming slang for cripple) He resorted to psychological bullying of people in order to get his way and achieve his dreams. I always knew that Ian had a dark side, so nothing in Baxter’s book surprised me. Underneath all this, Ian had a heart of gold which is shown by all his charity work. I was especially pleased when his song Spasticus Artisticus was chosen as the theme song for the London Para-Olympics in 2012.

Ian & The Blockheads.

The sulphate strangler died of a heart attack while in police custody. When I read that in the book, I felt sorry for him. I think, like Ian he was another person who probably meant well, but didn’t know how to go about expressing it. Baxter knows the truth, not me. In a way the story of his mother Betty is even more tragic than Ian’s. She was involved in a car crash in which a motor cyclist died, and Betty never recovered from the trauma and guilt. She died aged only 52. There are many reasons to be tearful in this book. Despite that, as I said, I really enjoyed reading Chaise Longue by Baxter Dury. I don’t have any of Baxter’s albums in my collection, but I think I will buy one in the very near future and tell you all about it here. Cheers.

Baxter & Ian.

Fred Neil, Bleecker & Macdougal.

It was Bob Dylan who ignited my interest in the 1960s scene in Greenwich Village. Jack Kerouac added to it of course. Jack was once asked what it felt like to be famous and he said, “It feels like old newspapers blowing down Bleecker Street”. All this sort of thing added to my romantic view of the area. I think that is partly why I enjoyed the film Inside Llewyn Davis so much. In the past I have bought albums by and written about many artists associated with this time and place, such as Karen Dalton. Tim Hardin, Dave Van Ronk, Tim Buckley and Phil Ochs. I think it was after I wrote my review of Phil Ochs several months ago that a facebook friend suggested that I also check out Fred Neil. Finally, I did and looked on the internet to see what CDs were available. I opted for a CD on the Electra label which contained Fred’s first two albums Tear Down The Walls & Bleecker And Macdougal,

I must admit I was initially a bit disappointed with Tear Down The Walls. I didn’t think it was any great shakes. Released in 1964 it isn’t a solo album, but by a duo comprising of Fred and Vince Martin. I think Vince Martin was a much lesser talent. I was interested to see that John Sebastian plays mouth harp on the album. He later became world famous as a solo artist and member of Lovin’ Spoonful. Also, Felix Pappalardi plays bass and I remember him as a member of rock band Mountain in the 1970s. After two listens I did not think any of the tracks particularly grabbed my attention. Fred Neil wrote six of them. If I had to choose, I would say that the title track is possibly the best. It is the kind of protest song that Peter, Paul & Mary, Tom Paxton or Pete Seeger were singing at the time. There are some cover versions here, but I don’t think they are that great. Their version of Morning Dew isn’t a patch on Bonnie Dobson’s original, and I have heard better versions of Lonesome Road, most recently by Bill Callahan. To my ears the best thing about the album is Fred Neil’s distinctive voice and the excellent bluesy guitar and harmonica playing.

The second album Bleecker & Macdougal is a different kettle of fish altogether, a vast improvement. It is Fred’s first solo album released in 1965. As well as Sebastian & Pappalardi, there is also electric guitar on this album which was sacrilege to many of the folk purists of the time, so this album could be considered as one of the forerunners of Folk-Rock. The title song opens the album in fine lively rock influenced style. A lot of the songs are steeped in blues, such as Blues On The Ceiling, Sweet Mama, Yonder Comes The Blues and Gone Again. I think Candy Man became a minor hit for Roy Orbison. Mississippi Train is very rock influenced with electric guitar to the fore. The harmonica intro reminded me of The Beatles, I Should Have Known Better.

The outstanding tracks for me are A Little Bit Of Rain with very emotional singing accompanied by subtle guitar strumming, The Other Side Of This Life which is very melodic with superb vocal delivery. The Water Is Wide which is a traditional song with the same roots as Carrickfergus which all Van Morrison fans will know. I think Handful Of Gimme could show Fred Neil’s growing dislike for the music business. Maybe Fred shared Jack Kerouac’s windblown view of the fame game. Although I am pleased that I bought this CD, I have a nagging underlying feeling that I haven’t heard the best of Fred Neil. Maybe I should have bought his 1967 album which contains The Dolphins which I know from Beth Orton’s and Tim Buckley's cover versions. (I just found a video of The Dolphins on youtube which I have shared below. It is the only know footage of Fred performing on stage) That album also has his version of Shake Sugaree by Elizabeth Cotten which I wrote so glowingly about recently. It also contains Fred’s own song Everybody’s Talkin’ which Nilsson covered and was chosen for the soundtrack of the film Midnight Cowboy ahead of Dylan’s Lay Lady Lay. 

I bet Fred was pleased about the success of that song, because it must have been the royalties from that hit which allowed him to step back from the music industry, live in Florida permanently and pursue his real love which was dolphin conservation. He co-founded the Dolphin Research Project in 1970, an organization dedicated to stopping the capture, trafficking and exploitation of dolphins worldwide. He progressively disappeared from the recording studio and live performance and sadly died in 2001. He had been suffering from skin cancer. He has left a small but great legacy and influenced many people, so I am pleased that I discovered the work of Fred Neil.

Bob Dylan, Karen Dalton, Fred Neil. Cafe Wha? Greenwich Village, 1960s.

The Dolphins- Fred Neil, Vince Martin & John Sebastian | August 2, 1976

Bridget Riley.

Monday morning: It is colder today, only 2 degrees C, but on the + side there isn’t a cloud in the cobalt blue sky. I haven’t written anything for a few days, so I’ll write whatever comes into my head, just to say something. I have only been awake for ten minutes. The clock in my bedroom isn’t working because I’m too lazy to put a new battery in it, but these days I always seem to come downstairs at 9.30, regardless of when I went to bed. I'm thinking about Bridget Riley. The simple explanation is because the last thing I did last night was watch a documentary about her on BBC 4. I watched it twice actually. It was on BBC2 on Friday evening as well. I found it by accident when I reached for the remote to get away from that Children In Need annual thing. I think I watched it twice because I wanted to understand what Bridget was all about. She is an incredible lady, 90 now, but still full of energy and keen to find out where her art will take her next. 

I’ll tell you the little I know about Bridget Riley in case you haven’t heard of her. I won’t look on Wikipedia or google though. In the documentary she was interviewed by Kirsty Wark. There were others who talked about her work such as Tracey Emin who was full of praise for Bridget. I think Bridget first came to be noticed in the 1950s, but it took her a while to develop her own vision and style. She was influenced by a French artist called Georges Suerat who had a technique called pointillism. Bridget became associated in the 60s with an art movement called Op-Art. The Op is short for optical I would presume. Some of her paintings cause optical illusions in the eyes of the viewer. She paints squares, triangles, circles, curves and stripes, beginning mainly with black and white but developing later with bright vivid colours. Some of her ideas were stolen in the swinging sixties by the fashion world of Carnaby Street and places like that. 

Bridget has been commissioned to paint huge murals, for places such as museums and entire corridors of hospital wards. Although the work is quite mathematical in design, you can see how it is based in nature. For instance, many artists have painted a view of the sea, but in Bridget’s work you can actually experience the movement of the sea. Other works have the shimmering effect of heat. I’d love to go to a Bridget Riley exhibition to experience the paintings for myself. I also think that understanding Bridget’s work could be a lot easier than people think. The bright colours could simply be a celebration of the joy of being alive. I bet a lot of people leave a Bridget Riley exhibition feeling happier and more optimistic without knowing why. If an artist can achieve just that one thing, then their work has been worthwhile.

ps, I stole the illustrations from Google Images. I hope nobody minds.

The Days Of The Leaves.

I hadn’t been out for a walk since our visit to Stourhead about five weeks ago, so yesterday afternoon I made the supreme effort to get out in the fresh air and go for a walk up to the White Horse. It was quite a cold day, but because it was uphill all the way by the time I got to the top of Newtown I was nicely warmed up. In a field near Beggars Knoll I came across a dark horse silhouetted against the autumn sky and the trees. This was a good photo opportunity. I tried calling him over for a close up, but he didn’t want to know. I took a couple of pics anyway and carried on along the lane. The trees looked magnificent in all their golden autumn colours. 

I didn’t appreciate autumn at one time because I thought it was a harbinger of winter, short dark days and months of cold. It used to give me an underlying feeling of melancholy, but ever since I have read books like The Power Of Now by Eckhart Tolle my attitude seems to have changed. I am learning to live in the present moment and not think about what the future has in store. With this state of presence you can enjoy the beauty of nature in all its glory because now is the only time that exists. When winter does arrive I am sure it will have charms of its own if you have the right attitude. I took a few photos of the trees as I walked along. Even the ground beneath the trees looked wonderful, carpeted in various shades of red and yellow leaves. Eventually I left the lane and walked across the fields towards the famous White Horse. It is more like an old grey mare these days. It always looks better from a distance than too close up, so I took a photo when it appeared through two bare trees. 

As I got closer there was one solitary blackbird sitting on top of a tree which looked wonderful, but sadly when I reached for my camera, it flew off. I sat on a bench and observed the panorama down below with Westbury away to the left. It was very peaceful with just the occasional distant rat a tat tat of gunfire from the army firing range on Salisbury Plain to disturb the tranquility. Eventually, my reverie was interrupted when I noticed the sky turning darker and a rainy mist spreading along the fields below until I could feel it on my face. I thought I better be heading home and set off back down the hill. I did feel quite pleased with myself for shaking off the slough of inaction, getting some exercise and being at one with nature. 

Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly.

Tuesday morning: It seems like quite a nice day today. I might make the supreme effort and go for a walk this afternoon. I’ll just tell you what I did yesterday, which isn’t really a lot. I went to Morrison’s to get some provisions. On the way there I had a quick look in the charity shops. I saw a CD for only 50 pence called Chronicles Of A Bohemian Teenager by Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly. It was the name that attracted me to it. It is the sort of name that makes you curious to find out more. Also, the title seemed to compliment the book I am reading at the moment, The Giro Playboy. I had heard the name before; I think he played on one of the stages at Glastonbury a few years ago. I played it yesterday afternoon, and I’m listening again this morning. It is very nice eclectic music and I like the left-wing sentiments of the album. Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly is a name adopted by singer-songwriter Sam Duckworth born in 1986. This is his first album released in 2006. According to Sam his stage name came from Retro Gamer magazine, from an article about superhero games such as Batman containing the heading "Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly. He is only 35 now, so he must have only been about 20 years old when the album was released, quite a precocious talent. Sam was once the victim of a racist attack which has led him to be an active supporter of the Love Music, Hate Racism campaign. He has released six albums since this one. If he returns to Glastonbury next summer I will certainly go and see him. I highly recommend this album. It is the best 50p I have spent in ages. I have shared a video below if you want to hear more.

I went to the pub yesterday evening. I still sit outside even though it is cold. I don’t like going in the bar because of the fear of Covid even though I have had two jabs. I’m getting my booster jab on the 25^th. I had two gin & slimline tonics. I have decided to stop drinking cider because I think that is why I have got a fat belly. After that I went home and watched University Challenge, but I only got ten answers right. I can’t remember what I watched after that, so it couldn’t have been very interesting.  

ps, I just remembered, I watched England beat San Marino in the World Cup qualifier 10-0. Poor old San Marino.

Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly - War Of The Worlds

The Giro Playboy & The Seventh Veil.

Sunday was a bleak, grey damp day. I didn't go outside, apart from topping up my pond and feeding my shubunkins. I  noticed that the three of them have grown quite a lot since the fourth one died earlier in the year. I wish they would breed, that would be something to write about. I actually quite like days such as this because I didn’t spend any money. Once you go out you start spending. I’d rather wait until there is something worth going out for. I listened to the Iggy Pop show on BBC6 Music and Guy Garvey’s Finest Hour. You hear some great music on this station. To pass the time I also started reading a book called The Giro Playboy by Michael Smith. My brother Paul gave it to me a couple of years ago, and he said it was a great read. I had forgotten about it until yesterday. Faber who published it said it was a Beat classic in the making, and one reviewer said it was like Rimbaud on the dole.

I have only read about sixty pages so far, but I think it is very funny in a sad meaningless way. It is an account of the empty existence of a lonely drifter living in bedsits in Brighton and London. I’ll tell you more about it later when I have read a bit more. It made me think that I could do the same thing because my life is just as uneventful as his. I don’t have to wait until I go to a gig or buy an album to have something to write about. I could just write about doing next to nothing, which I suppose I am doing right now.  In the evening I watched an interesting documentary about the making of  Pet Sounds by The Beach Boys on Sky Arts. I think I had seen it before, but still enjoyed it. Even later I watched a black and white film from 1945 called The Seventh Veil starring Ann Todd and James Mason. It kept my attention and had some nice classical piano music in it, but I don't think it was Ann Todd playing it.

This morning I have to get dressed and venture out to get some provisions because I have eaten everything in the fridge. I might have a mooch around the charity shops as well. Anyway, I can’t think of anything else to tell you about now. If anything remotely interesting happens later I'll tell you about it tomorrow. 

Van Morrison & Carl Jung

Saturday afternoon: I am listening again to Van Morrison’s most recent album Latest Record Project. This was prompted by seeing Van in Oxford last week when he sang five of the songs from that album. I don’t mind hearing the new songs, but if it was up to me to decide the setlist my choices might be Duper’s Delight, Tried To Do The Right Thing, It Hurts Me Too, A Few Bars Early and especially Psychoanalysts’ Ball. I think that last song is my favourite on the album. As well as sounding great I also like the interesting lyrics which mention Freud and Jung, ‘Who's got the ball, is it Freud or Jung? or are you just too high strung? or could it be low self-esteem? Then can we analyse your dreams?, nothing is really what it seems’. I find that quite intriguing because it isn’t the first time that Van has alluded to Carl Jung in his songs. In his 2002 song Down The Road Van sings, ‘And I got to be so far away, Oh don't you see, All our memories, dreams and reflections, that keep haunting me’. Memories, Dreams & Reflections is a partly autobiographical book by Jung and an associate Aniela Jaffé which was first published in Germany in 1962 and an English translation appeared in 1963. 

I had a paperback copy of this book back in the mists of time, many years ago. I can’t remember if I read it or not. Maybe it was a college book that I was supposed to study,  but it shows to me that Van has been influenced by reading Jung over a long period. I have also noticed that he has mentioned Jung in several interviews over the years. In an interview with the Financial Times in 2017 Van was talking about the media and how they misrepresent him.

“It’s what Carl Jung calls projection. They are projecting ideas on to a person they don’t really know, because of something in them. A lot of people project on to me what they think fame is, or they think what I am or what I represent is. That was taken up by the people who write in the rock magazines, “I find them limited in their knowledge of music. I’ve always found that. Whereas in jazz magazines, and blues magazines and classical magazines they’re not as limited, because they have to know what they’re writing about. In rock or pop they don’t really have to know anything. You can just walk in off the street and start writing". 

I can understand why people like Van are wary of the media because they often present an image of a person to the public which can be far from the truth. The audiences then believe what they are told. I remember one night in Bristol many years ago a girl in the audience shouted out between songs, “We love you Van”, and Van replied, “You don’t even know me”. They think the artist on the stage singing the songs is the real person, but it is an act, what Jung would call a persona. It is what gives an introvert like Van the ability to perform and survive in an extrovert business. 

The Way Jung Lovers Do.

Van also said, “There are some people who become their projection, but I didn’t. I had to work through it. I just studied psychology, basically. I got a book called Man And His Symbols by Carl Jung, which explained it in there.” I think that is why some of the media describe Van as ‘difficult’, because he refuses to play their game and behave how a so-called ‘celebrity’ is expected to be.

Van said in another conversation that I read, “I’ve had that experience, this ‘channeling’ thing. It’s a great idea and it’s one that we all bought into for a minute, back in the 70s. A lot of these ‘new age’ ideas were floating around for a while. I don’t really go for it now. I think it’s all down to you, if you create a song from basically nothing. I mean, you can get ideas and inspiration from various places, from what Jung called the collective unconscious, in dreams etc, so that’s all part of it”. In another interview Van said, “There was a lot of change around that time – 1966/67 – and I was trying to get in everything that was going on. I had a feeling when I was writing Astral Weeks that I was plugging into what Jung called the Collective Unconscious”.

That might hint at the meaning of, 'If I ventured into the slipstream, between the viaducts of your dreams'. I was talking about this myself a couple of weeks ago when I wrote a little piece called The Clicking Clacking Of High Heeled Shoes. In Jungian psychology the collective unconscious is the part of the unconscious mind which is derived from ancestral memory and experience and is common to all humankind, as distinct from the individual's unconscious. That is why I think Van must sometimes wonder to himself, why must I always explain? because probably even he doesn’t understand where some of his songs come from, it could be from dreams, or the subconscious mind. What James Joyce would call stream of consciousness. I must say though that I think those types of songs are Van’s best songs, much better than when he sits down to write a rant about how badly he has been ripped off. In the Ritchie Yorke Project Interview of April 21, 2015, Van said, “There's novel reading, and then there's the other kind of reading. Take somebody like Carl Jung, the psychiatrist - now there's somebody worth getting into. With novels, I'm kind of fly by night. It isn't something I can be really consistent with”.

Van has always known that music has healing properties, that is why several songs are about healing. What he wants to understand is why music heals, and has spent a lot of time trying to find the answer. He even organised a weekend course in 1987 at Loughborough University called The Secret Heart Of Music in order to explore this very subject. In the Village voice 2009 he said, “If you study psychology and philosophy, and you look at various types of religion, what you find out is that people call this these different names, “Carl Jung would look at it one way, and Alfred Adler would look at it another way. Aristotle would maybe look at it a different way, Sartre would look at it some other way, and Beckett would look at it a different way. If you go through all this, what I end up with is energy, and I can’t name it, and no one can really say what this energy is, so the healing thing is tapping into that energy, because I can’t find a name for it, and I can’t find it in any books. There was a time when I read everything I could get my hands on because I was looking to find out what this is, is anybody writing about this energy? not really.”

I thought of buying a copy of Man And His Symbols by Carl Jung to find out more about what Van is on about, but I didn’t in the end because I thought that I would probably just read a few pages and lose interest, which often happens with me. I did watch a fascinating interview with Jung though when he talked to John Freeman in a 1959 BBC TV programme called Face To Face. I have shared it below if you want to see it. I was pleased to see that Jung wasn’t a stuffy intellectual professor type at all, but came over as a kindly, humorous, friendly, sort of a person who answered the questions in a simple open way. One thing I really liked was when Freeman asked Jung if he believed there was such a thing as God. Jung replied, “I don’t have to believe it, I know it”. Anyway, I can’t think of anything else to say now about Van and the father of analytical psychology, but I urge you to watch the video interview with Jung  because I found it very interesting indeed.

Viaducts Of Your Dreams. (By Mal)