Something old, something new, something tasty, something bluesy

 

TAPAS AND JOHN PEEL

D'ye ken John Peel?  Or, more appropriately, d'ye mind o' John Peel?  Not the legendary Cumberland huntsman, but the far more influential Liverpudlian DJ and broadcaster who sadly died in 2004.  Influential?  Well he certainly was in my life, and that impact he made reverberated again yesterday, providing an unexpected experience.

In my late teens and early twenties I was a frequent listener to Peel's late night music programme.  Often I'd end the day in bed, my tiny orange transistor radio, and the single earpiece plugged in.  Lying there in the dark I'd hear an eclectic mix of genres and instruments and styles, some immediately rejected, some diving into my consciousness.  If the latter remained an LP purchase would invariably result.  And my entry into the weird world of 'unusual' acts like Ivor Cutler and Wild Man Fischer.  And one of those LPs was Paco, by flamenco guitarist Paco de Lucia.  

Yesterday we had a walk along Portobello Prom, and decided that before going home we'd have a late lunch/early dinner.  The first promising place we came to was a Spanish tapas restaurant, so in we went.  First impressions weren't great.  The waiter waved us vaguely in as he was on the phone.  Lighting was a bit on the dim side considering it was only late afternoon.  And there was a noisy group of young women and their kids at a table.

But the waiter came over and couldn't have been lovelier.  The sun came out from behind a cloud and brightened the place up.  And the loud presences left the building, leaving us as the only two customers.  Which also meant I could hear the music coming over the speakers, and my ears sharpened up immediately.  The unmistakeable sound of flamenco guitar, all cascading ripples of notes percussive rhythms and bright, jumping energy.  In this case with a melody and style I recognised instantly.  Paco.  I hadn't played that LP for years.  I wondered if I still had it, for in downsizing I did get rid of a lot of my old vinyl.  But it was always a favourite, surely it's one I would have hung on to?

The track came to an end, to be succeeded by voices, which I couldn't make out.   Was this a radio station they had on and the immediately identifiable track was a coincidence?  No, this was their Spotify playlist, and what I'd heard was one of the ads.  Yes, it was Paco de Lucia (except he pronounced it correctly!).  Yes he was an icon of Spanish music.  It was clear that the waiter was delighted to find someone who knew of the man, and he talked knowledgeably about the musician's background and relatively recent death.  And asked if I'd like some suggestions for similar artists.

Would I?  Of course I would.  As we ate our (delicious) tapas he found time to scribble down a list, which was duly delivered.  Then we mentioned a Galician folkrock band we're fans of.  Which prompted another addition to the list.  And, in exchange, he took a photo of the name of our favourite band, which was on my tee shirt, and said he'd be investigating them.

I hope he does.  For I'm enjoying his little list, courtesy of YouTube and Spotify, and sooo pleased to find that Paco still sitting on my vinyl shelf and being able to listen to him today.  The years slipped away...

Without John Peel we'd have come away feeling we'd discovered an interesting place to eat.  With John Peel, or at least with listening to him more than four decades ago, we've added the even better discovery of new music to explore.  Or was that down to a butterfly in South America?

It's Not Over Yet

 YOU'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE

When you've been with someone a long time it gets harder to buy presents that surprise them, or meet a need.  So for Xmas 2019 we decided we both had plenty 'stuff', so instead of even more 'stuff' we'd buy a joint present that didn't add to the clutter of an already cluttered home.  Since we both like going to gigs we decided that tickets would be the best answer, but in a new venue, away from home.

That ended with a trip to Dublin in January 2020, to see the great Christy Moore perform at Vicar St.  Great gig, great experience, and we decided that this was the future of the Crawford Xmas.  How wrong we were.  Ten weeks later the first lockdown came and a gig in Edinburgh on the eleventh of March would prove to be our last of the year.  Xmas 2020 came and it was back to the 'stuff' again, because where could you book with any degree of certainty?

But it looked like being better this time around so, cautiously, we booked to go somewhere not too far away this time.  Tonight is the night for our Xmas gig in Newcastle.  Wasn't it?  Because this just happened...

That's me on the left.  Sadly Barbara came up positive, and trying again produced the same result.  So no trip for us today.  And I'm wondering how much live entertainment we will end up getting to see this year, because the record hasn't been good so far.  

My first outing of the year should have been to Murrayfield on the second of January to see Edinburgh take on Glasgow, with another match, this time against Cardiff, on the eighth.  Both of which fell within the period of the mini-lockdown we had at the turn of the year, meaning sports events were played behind closed doors.  (For once covid provided a silver lining when there was an outbreak in the Glasgow squad and the match has had to be postponed, so maybe I'll get to see that one.)  I did get to the next match, against Brive, on the twenty first.  So that's one.

We had booked five gigs through in Glasgow during the Celtic Connections festival.  One vanished quite early on, US musicians deciding not to come across.  Then another went, for 'covid-related' reasons.  Then another.  In the end we got to see two, moved to larger, socially distanced rooms, but at least they went ahead.  And reminded us how much we miss live music.

There are at least five more rugby matches to go to this season.  And the calendar shows a further five gigs.  Three of them have been rearranged from previous cancellations - one of them five times already.  All bar one are local events.  The first is two weeks from tomorrow.  Maybe.  Who knows what comes next? 

On the plus side, staying at home means more time with this ageing lady, who's not been too well recently.  Which might be a subject for a future post.

Digital derision points to uncertain future

CALENDAR CONTEMPT

Anyone else feel their calendar is laughing at them?  Back in the olden, pre-lockdown, days I could look at the weeks ahead and see what promises they held.  Science Festival events.  TradFest gigs.  Plays at the Traverse.  Matches at Murrayfield.  Some appointments and meetings related to my volunteering role.  Train times showing when I'd be on my own for a few days.  And then our world changed.

On the plus side, I suppose, a load of money winging its way back to my account, refunds for tickets I'll never use.  The biggest downside is a bit more obvious.  No live entertainment for ... however long it's going to take.  Be patient.  And the unexpected sideswipe of a calendar that mocks me, telling me about all the things I should have been going to see.  I could have deleted them, but they seemed to offer a form of measurement, watching how many events would pass before we could start booking again.  But that's about to end.  The final notification for the A Play, a Pie and a Pint series flicked up yesterday.  On Saturday week the last league game of the season, the big derby match against Glasgow, was due to be played.  And that's it.  At least my calendar can stop taking the piss after that.

Hardly a big deal, I know, but a trivial illustration of what so many are going through.  Packed diaries, be they for work, domestic or leisure purposes, rendered meaningless.  Replaced with Zoom meetings, Whatsapp calls, reminders to clap and bang pots, and a sudden fascination with parcel tracking numbers.  We have had to alter the patterns of our lives, lower expectations, recalibrate the meaning of achievement.  

Change.  That's all it is, some of it temporary, some of it more long term - and the uncertainty of not knowing which is which.  But human beings are good at change.  We can rationalise, replan, manage our lives and adapt.  There will be good things as well as bad to come out of this pandemic.  We can only hope that our political leaders, and wider society, are able to recognise and embrace the good, and not simply try to return to past practices because "that's how things were done".  

That sounded like an upbeat note to end on.  Then I remembered we still have Doris over us....  Oh well.

New world, new entertainments

CREATIVITY FINDS A WAY

Some readers will know that as well as occasionally posting on here I also, on a separate blog, write reviews of gigs, plays and films we go to see.  Purely for my own amusement, I don't expect anyone to read them, but you need a few hobbies in retirement, and that's one that gives my brain a small challenge and adds another dimension to being an audience member.  Over the course of a year I'll usually write well over a hundred of these, with the bulk of them reflecting our assiduous attendance at the various festivals the city has to offer from April to August and beyond.

But, for obvious reasons, not in 2020.  Our last live entertainment, the excellent Boo Hewerdine, was almost three weeks ago and it looks like being many months before there's another one.  That's a big element of our lives put on hold, my little hobby suspended - and a large chunk of disposable income not being spent!  For us that's an annoyance, but such a minor one in the context of what's going on in the world it's barely worth a thought.  For the performers - musicians, comedians, actors - we'd have been going to see it's much more serious, as that's how they pay the bills.  And how they express their essential creativity.  So it's been fascinating to see how they are coming to terms with the new reality, one that could be with us for some time to come and is, surely, going to change much about the world we've known until now.

We can't go to see them, they can't come to us, but there is this thing called the internet, and it has always offered endless possibilities for new ways to interact with others.  Seeing artists adapt to this is fascinating, and I've sat watching several music gigs and a couple of comedy shows.  It gives them an outlet for their talents, us a substitute for the raw entertainment we are missing, and, possibly a way for performers to earn some much needed dosh in the hard times they are experiencing.

The first one of these I watched was pretty impromptu.  The band Talisk found themselves stranded in the US when the bulk of their tour, and income, went awol.  They launched a crowdfunder to help them get flights back home and cover some of the debts they had outstanding.  As a thank you for the money raised they did a Facebook Live broadcast from a hotel room in Nashville.  It was manic, shambolic and probably more verbal rambling than actual music.  But it was also very funny, had some great music and curiously involving.  Partly because FL provides for real-time commenting by viewers, but also the sense of this being the start of something that would become our main source of 'live' entertainment for who knows how many weeks to come - and maybe beyond.

Since then  I've watched a few live, or almost live, music performances, and a couple of the Saturday night shows the Stand Comedy Club have done.  In every case there's a palpable sense of nervous experimentation, and trying to find ways to cope with the lack of any immediate audience response.  It's going to be fascinating to see how this evolves, but for now I won't bother trying to write reviews.  As a performance medium it's still too raw, too feeling-the-way, to be able to criticise.  But by the end of April...?

Going for a song

SURPRISE CONNECTION?

It took Barbara by surprise.  It had certainly surprised me.  She came into the kitchen to find me sobbing..  The full works, shoulders heaving, tear tracks shining on cheeks, salt in beard, incapable of giving voice. When I could eventually speak with any coherence it was to say a song had set me off.  Just a song.

A few months before I'd attended a two day course, something my volunteering with Advocard gives me the occasional opportunity to take part on.  This one was held in the zoo (good to have the chance to wander round for free) on Suicide Awareness (any humour was likely to be of the deep black variety...).  In my years of advocacy work I've had several service users tell me about their suicidal thoughts, or past attempts to end their lives, so anything which makes me better equipped to deal with those situations was welcome.  Of course the tutors ran the sessions with great sensitivity, but it inevitably brought up personal memories for many of the students.

So it took me back to 2002 and phone call from Edinburgh Police.  We were still living in England at the time so it was unlikely to be anything but bad news.  My father was dead, having gone out to South Queensferry, walked out on to the road bridge and jumped.  No obvious lead up, no note, no unexpected problems left behind, no reason.  By and large I didn't find that too hard to cope with, bar suddenly bursting into tears in the florist when ordering the funeral flowers.  I'd been away from Edinburgh for over two decades so he wasn't a part of my daily life, which usually makes bereavement even harder to deal with. 

So there in the zoo the memories were just that - memories, nothing that upset me overmuch.  And yet there I was in a kitchen chair, a few months later, overwhelmed in a way I never was at the time of the suicide or at any point since.  What connected song, lyrics, and memory into a script that had me helpless as the denouement?

In May 2018 it was announced that Scott Hutchison's body was found in the Forth.  Hutchison was the lead singer and songwriter for Scots band Frightened Rabbit.  I knew a small something of their music, without having listened often, and had seen, and been impressed with,  Scott when he performed as a guest on a BBC Fringe show a couple of years before.  The link with my father 's death was obvious, but the differences were far greater.  Hutchison was so much younger, had a history of depression and had sent out messages hinting strongly at the action he was about to take.  I was upset for Scott and those who knew him, but it didn't affect me otherwise.  Later I'd play some Frightened Rabbit albums and even the track Floating in the Forth didn't trigger any great flow of emotion.

So surprise it was when listening to the wonderful album "Karine Polwart's SCottish Songbook".  Track five is a Hutchison song.  Swim Until You Can't See Land.  "Are you a man or a bag of sand?" goes the chorus.  I'd listened to the song before.  But there must have been something about the moment.  A few moments alone and at peace, Polwart's clarity of diction and phrasing, a mind receptive to suggestion perhaps?  And then those words had the power to connect, transform and open up a mind taken unawares.

And yet it's no surprise really, is it?  The human brain has an immense capacity for storing data, and prioritising it in a way that allows us to get on our with our lives.  And that same brain can make seemingly random connections, pulling together forgotten ingredients o serve up unexpected flavours.  Traumatic events never leave us, we succeed in overcoming them by letting them sink below the level of our daily consciousness.  And then along comes a song...

Click here for the Karine version of the song.

Click here for the song lyrics.

And click here for the Frightened Rabbit original, with the man himself.  

PS I can listen to the song with pleasure now, both versions, so it really was all in the moment.

Doing good with soup (and cake)

THE SOUP OF HUMAN KINDNESS

Edinburgh Soup isn't a recipe, but a charity fund raising event.  Last night we went along to the fourth such occasion, although a first for us.  It's an unusual and intriguing format, based upon a idea which sprang up in Detroit, USA.  Get a bunch of people, businesses and music acts to donate their time/food/talent, charge people to attend, and have a form of competition which decides which of the charity projects there on the night will walk away with the takings from the door and other donations.

There was a good sized crowd in the converted church that is the Assembly Roxy, a great venue for music.  And a young crowd too (or perhaps just younger than I'm used to being a part of!).  Having booked a place online you paid at the door, found yourself a seat then joined the queue for some soup and bread.  A choice of two excellent concoctions from the Union of Genius on Forrest Road and chunks of wheaty enjoyment from the Wee Boulangerie on Clerk Street.  (Given their kindness in donating to feed so many mouths it would be churlish not to give them a plug.)  Later there would be cake, with four very different alternatives provided, from All About Patisserie who appear sell their wares at various market venues.  There was an honesty box by the cake, pay what you can afford kind of thing, but otherwise this was all covered in the entrance price.

And then there was the music.  First up was Sanna, a four piece pop outfit with fiddle, cello and clarinet.  The songs were uninspiring, but the singer had a decent voice, even if almost the only words he'd utter between numbers were "cheers folks".

Then there was the rapper Conscious Route.  My comfort zone seemed a long way off.  I have seen one rapper before, but that was delivered in Scots vernacular so there was something for me to link into.  But this was alien to anything I'm used to, and it's hard to make judgements when you have no real reference points.  Was he good at what he did?  I guess so.  Despite not having much of a clue about the content of his lyrics, I found myself enjoying the performance more as it went on, as the beat started to seep into my body and the rhythm of the singing style began to make more sense.  Plus this guy had a certain style about him, a stage presence which the previous band had totally lacked.  He was funny, informative and genuine communicator, passionate about what he was doing, and good to watch in action.  I doubt I'll be rushing to buy a CD, but if he crossed my path again I'd certainly give him a listen.

Finally the act that had brought us here in the first place.  The Jellyman's Daughter, who we last saw at this same venue, are a superb duo with a unique sound courtesy of Graham Coe's astonishing cello playing, while Emily Kelly's vocals sound even bluesier than before.  Great stuff.

In between those final two acts we had four five minute presentations, each from a representative of a local charity project, each of whom hoped to take away the proceeds from the evening to fund their work.  Each gave us an insight into what they did, who benefited, and what they needed the money for.  Then we, the audience, were asked to cast a vote for the one we considered most deserving.  The result was announced at the end of the night, with Garvald Edinburgh narrowly winning the ballot.  They help people with learning disabilities to repair equipment, much of which then ends up helping some of the poorest people in other countries.  The example given was of a guy in his twenties who repaired an old pedal operated sewing machine, which was then sent to a destitute woman in Malawi.  The Edinburgh man acquires a useful skill, and has the satisfaction of knowing that the outcome of his efforts goes to providing someone else with a better life.  The new owner of the sewing machine is able to support he family through her work, instead of having to beg.  It was the double benefit aspect of this project that won it my vote, but all of the the others were very worthy and extremely interesting as well.  I talked to the man from the Edinburgh Tool Library and now know where to take the excessive number of files and chisels and the like that seem to be sitting in various boxes.

Entertainment, good food, some educational moments and a sense of having been part of something worthwhile.  And all for a fiver.  I'll be looking out for the next Edinburgh Soup.

The drummers' heartbeat

DRUM ON

On Friday we went to the National Museum for one of their Museum Lates nights, this time associated with the Celts exhibition they have on.  Once in there was plenty to see and do, with various artistic endeavours on offer and a selection of Celtic themed groups wandering about and dancing.  But the big draw for the crowd was the main stage where, amongst others, Scots Indie band Idlewild were to play an acoustic set.

First up on stage (or rather, in front of it, for there looked to be too many of them to cram on) were the Beltane drummers, battering out a string of beats that fired up the crowd.  They were followed by the excellent folk duo Hannah Fisher and Sorren MacLean, then the headliners.  But the poor sound system, and high level of background noise, made a nonsense of any idea of this being a musical event (which is why I haven't bothered to attempt a review in my Go Live blog).

Until the finale.  Back on came the Beltane crowd and they have no need of sound systems.  Plus they come with their own means of drowning out all but the most persistent background sounds.

I thought they'd be on for about ten minutes at most, so I started videoing.  And kept going.  And going.  And going.  You can see the result below.  Seventeen minutes of joyous banging.

Sadly I only had my phone to hand so the visuals are pretty awful.  But the sound is just about good enough to give you something of a feel for the excitement these guys generated.  It's a cliche, I know, but there is genuinely something visceral about a performance of this nature.  There's no suggestion of civilisation, just a primeval urge linked to heartbeat, a direct connection to being alive.  It's hard to imagine any of the drummers suffering from much from stress because this must be one of the greatest outlets ever invented, not to mention the physical workout they must get.

Yes, you had to be there to receive the full impact of the vibrating air that launched itself at your eardrums, and it's far harder to get any sense of involvement when it's a crappy video played over speakers, but stay with it through the first few minutes and see what it does to your body.

You can see the video by clicking on this link.