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Friday, 13 March 2015

Head Space Daily Words...


This week has been a week of the dentist, with a filling for one son, a milk tooth extraction for the other and as I sat on the top deck of the 172 bus yesterday, passing through Brockley, I was nil by mouth for the next two hours, as I had just been given a filling myself.

My plan of having a coffee at Tate Modern, overlooking St.Paul’s and the Thames, had to be delayed. I’ve been to the museum a few times this year. It has become my freelance hangout when I’m not working. Get out, see things. So far, I have taken in the Conflict, Time, Photography exhibition and seen the fantastic Marlene Dumas exhibition three times. She is damn good. Her paintings draw you in and wrap you up. The second time I went, I was accompanied by the slurring, downbeat drawl of Ghostpoet on his latest album, Shedding Skin.

Work has been fairly good so far this year, with this week and the first week of the year the only ones when I have had nothing lined up. A few good weeks don’t make a good year though, so hopefully I can keep it rolling on. Having time off allows me to update my showreel, get the accounts in order and put out the feelers.

Books are something that I am trying to introduce into my life in 2015, by having one always on the go, instead of only reading a book on holiday each year.

Books read so far this year:

Brand New Ancients – Kate Tempest
Just Kids – Patti Smith
New York Posts - Dan Boulton
Hamlet – William Shakespeare
Put Me Back On My Bike (Tom Simpson Biography) – William Fotheringham

Currently reading:

London Belongs To Me – Norman Collins

As well as the Ghostpoet album, I have enjoyed the spiritual vocals of the debut, self titled LP from Ibeyi, French Cuban twin sisters whose father was a member of Buena Vista Social Club, until he passed away several years ago. Another album that has never been far away from my ears this year is New Street Adventure’s No Hard Feelings, a truly British soul record, in the vain of late Jam tracks like Beat Surrender or the more acid jazz type vibe of the Style Council.

Last night, I saw New Street Adventure at the Jazz Café and they were excellent (see HSD Tune.) A band called Normanton Street, with which I was very impressed, supported them and they really have something to offer. The lead singer has a truly soulful voice. Two guys accompany her, one on guitar, the other on bass, who add spoken word, whilst a drummer supplies jazz beats and between them, they provide pared down and effective rhythm and backing. I hope they have a successful career, (see HSD Tune.)

I intend to see more gigs this year and already have Sharon Van Etten, Carleen Anderson and Unknown Mortal Orchestra lined up over the coming months.

Football, along with music, is life’s other essential element. The U10s team, which I manage, is doing very well and making progress, whilst in proper football, where the players get paid a hundred thousand pounds a week to behave like naughty children, I took my boys to see Villa beat West Brom 2-0 in the FA Cup Quarter Final. What an unbelievable atmosphere. The noise, as the game kicked off and following the two goals, was immense. It is almost indescribable, as you have to experience the effect to appreciate it properly but the sound is so overpowering, with so many different noises occurring simultaneously, that your brain cannot decipher what to focus on and so becomes utterly disorientated in the cacophony of thirty thousand screaming voices. Brilliant.

Benjamin Zephaniah, the Birmingham born, Villa supporting wordsmith and poet, came onto the pitch at half time to help raise the Villa fans to another level. My eldest son has been reading Benjamin Zephaniah’s work in his English lessons, so it had even more significance and was impressive for him to see this man who he has been learning from and about, in person.

The first question anyone asks when they know you went to the game is, ‘did you go on the pitch?’ We were in the Upper Holte End, looking down as events unfolded and of course, we wouldn’t have gone on the pitch anyway. When a local derby kicks off at 5.30PM, allowing people to drink all day, you will get high spirits and exaggerated emotions – that’s what alcohol does. So, on the one hand you get a pitch invasion from over excited Villa fans, having just won the game and on the other hand, you have vandalism and violence from defeated Baggies fans, hurling seats down from the stands. Due to the result, Villa fans who invaded the pitch after the final whistle win the moral high ground, as that was an outpouring of positive, over the top emotion, whilst the violence from the West Brom fans in defeat, an outpouring of negative, over the top emotion, can never be condoned.  The BBC, police, Aston Villa football Club and the stewarding of the game needs to be looked at. The match should never have been allowed to take place at 5.30PM on a Saturday evening. It is just asking for trouble and the people in charge for not having seen it coming, need to get their heads out of the sand.

Enough said...



Head Space Daily Image…

A few pictures from the past week...



Marlene Dumas's painiting Genetic Longing…



The balloons go up at Villa Park as the teams come out for the FA Cup Quarter Final...




The New Street Adventure 7"of The Big A.C, my ticket to last nights gig and the Normanton Street E.P Much Respect...

Head Space Daily Tune...

New Street Adventure were terrific at Jazz Cafe last night and I've been loving their album for some time. This track is a proper dancer and a nostalgic nod to Northern soul.

New Street Adventure - The Big A.C




Support for New Street Adventure came from Normanton Street. Very good they were too. Check them out here.


Normanton Street - Fly Lady (Get Money)



Thursday, 29 January 2015

Head Space Daily Words...

Last week I took a break from work and went to a nearby café for a cup of tea. The music spewing out of the speakers was dismal and downright irritating. A wind instrument of some description was being played badly over some mild percussion. Why does music like this exist? I don’t understand it. Do café owners go to a shop and specifically ask or search on line for the blandest, most generic and annoying, tuneless dirge. I would go insane if I had to work there. In fact, the waitress who served me looked thoroughly pissed off. Luckily, I had brought my I pod with me and Sharon Van Etten’s Tramp album was soon bringing back my sanity, although that bloody oboe, clarinet – or whatever it was – occasionally battled Sharon for a piece of the action. From one New York songstress to another. I had come out to finish the book I was currently reading, Patti Smith’s autobiography, Just Kids.  What a majestically beautiful book it is. My Patti Smith knowledge doesn’t go beyond her fabulous reworking of Van Morrison’s Gloria, so I had no expectations. The book leads the reader through Patti’s creative development from a little girl, up to today, taking in her move to New York, her influences, her friendship and love for Robert Mapplethorpe - who was her creative soulmate - and the evolution of her art and practice. She never wanted to be a singer. Singing happened to her. Through writing, reading, photography, theatre and music; through meeting and crossing paths with singers, performers, cultural icons, authors, poets, and hangers on, her views and self-belief were gradually formed and guided. Having the guts to leave home, to survive the sordid, the unnerving, the unglamorous and the grit and to be in the right place at the right time are key factors in how she became the artist she is today and New York in the ‘70s was a creative magnet. It is incredible how all these artists and performers were mixing and sharing their work at this time, particularly out of the Chelsea Hotel. When so many people are sharing work and ideas, it is electric. Patti and Robert Mapplethorpe were two kindred souls, their beings entwined through a wonderful story, full of waifs and strays, music, polaroids and adventure. This is how anyone should become an artist or performer – by putting in the graft and living the life. Shame on the X factor nobodies. A key character in the story is New York itself, a place which, like London, nurtures creativity and allows people to develop. A photographer friend of mine, in the same way as Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe nurtured their skills, has also been cultivating his craft over many years, heading in new directions and presenting his work in different ways. His Linked In page describes himself as having been a contemporary British photographer for 28 years and one month. This is it. Being an artist is not a job, it is an evolution and an obsession throughout your life. His latest project is a book entitled New York Posts (see HSD Image), which came about from a five-day trip to the city and a determination for something tangible to come out of it. It is a book, which reflects the madness of modern life in a modern city. Taking headlines from the New York Post newspaper, which were published during his stay, he presents them amongst the images that he photographed, giving a genuine feel of modern day madness. Amongst the headlines ranging from the sensational, to the shocking, mundane and bizarre, live people struggling to exist. They leave their mark by spraying paint on walls and doors, they garner hope from compassionate looking statues of Jesus, flower stalls bring colour, whilst the singer Beck makes a personal appearance. As the day to day happens, people get shot as if in a Western, Bieber and Bloom fight like spoilt brats over Miranda Kerr and Spiderman is arrested in Times Square. It is a great portrayal of everyday life, captured over five days in New York and could be applied to any city or town, the world over. No matter what happens, however peculiar, life goes on.

What my friend Dan has done, in the same way as Patti Smith, or Sharon Van Etten, is show the bravery and passion to get up and do it.

My break from work finished as We Are Fine by Sharon VE came to an end and that oboe, or kazoo, or whatever it is, like an annoying wasp, once again invaded my space and it was time to head back to work…


If you have appreciated these words in any way, you may want to get yourself copies of Just Kids by Patti Smith, New York Posts by Dan Boulton, link below:


And I would recommend reading the books whilst listening to Sharon Van Etten (see HSD Tune.) Art and artists must be supported...




Head Space Daily Image...

Here is a copy of Dan Boultons New York Posts book, sitting on a dusty shelf. Go check it out...




Head Space Daily Tune...

We Are Fine - Sharon Van Etten

This is my favourite track of the Tramp album by Sharon Van Etten and what a marvellous song it is...


Thursday, 8 January 2015

Head Space Daily Words...

With an unwanted Christmas present to be refunded, Patti Smith's autobiography, Just Kids, accompanied me to Shoreditch this morning. Life is getting back to normal this week. Random Christmas trees lie on pavements. Festive obstacles to be dodged. The jagged glass of an Islamic Centre's smashed window. A reminder of murder in Paris. Shame about the window I say to the Muslim man with a ginger beard, stood next to me. It doesn't matter, he replies. We go our separate ways. It matters to me but it won't stop us living side by side, in our city. Flashback Records has the CD of Horse by Patti Smith for four pounds. I'd like the vinyl I think and don't buy it. Brick Lane Beigel Bakery. Tuna, mayo and sweetcorn. Can of pop. On to Rough Trade. Tramp by Sharon Van Etten, in the bag. Need to get with it before I see her at Shepherd's Bush Empire on April 29th. Lovely sunshine, cutting low across rooftops. Train home. Curtis in my ears. A few more pages of Patti...

Head Space Daily Image...

Some images from today...





A smashed window of an Islamic centre in Shoreditch, following yesterday's shootings in Paris...




The Truman Brewery chimney on Brick Lane looks on majestically...




A lonely Christmas tree in someone's front garden patiently waiting to be dumped...

Head Space Daily Tune...

Buddy Rich - The Beat Goes On

Regardless of whatever cards life deals, the beat goes on...