The first LP I bought was the Temptations' 'Get Ready'. I was 13, and I bought it from a record stall at a youth club I went to in Manchester, the last summer before my parents moved to the far east and I went to boarding school. The DJ at the youth club was said to be moonlighting from the Twisted Wheel. It seems unlikely, but I do remember the brilliant soul records he played. Maybe he had aspirations.
The following year I went to see the Temptations at the CIS in Manchester - a huge venue owned by the Co-operative movement.It was an odd place to see a group - the Free Trade Hall would have been more usual. And I have never been sure if they were the real thing or one of those groups of talented impostors, sent out on the road in the hope that no-one would notice. Whoever they were, they were fantastic, with all the moves, harmonies and sharp suits. This must have been in 1968.
Many years later, 2007 to be precise, I did see Smokey Robinson at the Bridgewater Hall. One of the best live shows ever, and an experience in community singing when he did medleys of all the old hits.
The second LP I bought was Love's 'Forever Changes', especially ordered in for me by the record shop in Matlock, when I was at boarding school. In the late 70s I saw Arthur Lee at Leeds University. I know he continued to tour in later life, but I never felt I could take the risk of disappointment.
Tuesday 21 February 2012
Sunday 19 February 2012
Reasons to be Cheerful, Part 2
I posted something quoting this Ian Dury song a couple of weeks ago, and it set me thinking about the man and his music.
Back in I think 1972, I became friends with the Edgar Broughton Band and their wives, girlfriends, roadies and families.
They had done a live on a lorry gig in Redcar, and had been arrested. A good friend and founder member of On the 8th Day in Manchester, Brian Livingstone, was their solicitor. He had a reputation as a sympathetic and radical man of law. At the turn of the year 1971 to 1972 he was invited to spend new year with the band and their friends and families at East Down Manor, just outside Barnstaple. The band were recording an album there. I'd had a bad time after leaving school. I had to take a gap year before I went to University (too young at 17), and I had found myself a very unsuitable drug dealing boyfriend. I needed a bit of rescuing, so Brian took me to Devon to meet the Broughtons, along with a couple of other friends from Manchester. It was a wonderful time. Gina Broughton and I became good friends, bonding over the coincidence of having gone to rival boarding schools in Matlock ( you thought this was going to be about rock 'n' roll didn't you?). There were other similarities in our respective fates at this stage of our lives, and we established a friendship which lasted over a number of years. I used to go and stay with them when they moved back to London. I took Captain Beefheart's tour manager round to meet them, taking a copy of their album back to Beefheart.
In the summer of 1972 they were appearing at the Rainbow, and as already mentioned, I had been part of a dance troupe in Manchester. I was asked to open the show as a broken down ballerina, and then myself and another dancer were at each side of the stage dancing for the rest of the set. I remember it being filmed, but have no idea if any footage still exists.
Backstage I was introduced to a friend of theirs, who had polio. It was Ian Dury.
Some years later I was at the funeral of the amazing Les Prior, star of 8th Day and Alberto y los Trios Paranoias. He had lost his battle with cancer. His funeral was held in Heptonstall, where he had lived. He is buried in the same churchyard as Syvia Plath. It was a snowy January day. And Ian Dury came to pay his respects.
The Albertos were on Stiff records, a family of extremely talented and rather eccentric artists. I saw Ian Dury and the Blockheads on the Stiff tour when it hit Rochdale, sometime between these two meetings. Wreckless Eric was on the bill too.
It all seemed so unremarkable at the time.Of course I don't mean that the characters and music were unremarkable, but that I took these adventures and opportunities for granted.
Back in I think 1972, I became friends with the Edgar Broughton Band and their wives, girlfriends, roadies and families.
They had done a live on a lorry gig in Redcar, and had been arrested. A good friend and founder member of On the 8th Day in Manchester, Brian Livingstone, was their solicitor. He had a reputation as a sympathetic and radical man of law. At the turn of the year 1971 to 1972 he was invited to spend new year with the band and their friends and families at East Down Manor, just outside Barnstaple. The band were recording an album there. I'd had a bad time after leaving school. I had to take a gap year before I went to University (too young at 17), and I had found myself a very unsuitable drug dealing boyfriend. I needed a bit of rescuing, so Brian took me to Devon to meet the Broughtons, along with a couple of other friends from Manchester. It was a wonderful time. Gina Broughton and I became good friends, bonding over the coincidence of having gone to rival boarding schools in Matlock ( you thought this was going to be about rock 'n' roll didn't you?). There were other similarities in our respective fates at this stage of our lives, and we established a friendship which lasted over a number of years. I used to go and stay with them when they moved back to London. I took Captain Beefheart's tour manager round to meet them, taking a copy of their album back to Beefheart.
In the summer of 1972 they were appearing at the Rainbow, and as already mentioned, I had been part of a dance troupe in Manchester. I was asked to open the show as a broken down ballerina, and then myself and another dancer were at each side of the stage dancing for the rest of the set. I remember it being filmed, but have no idea if any footage still exists.
Backstage I was introduced to a friend of theirs, who had polio. It was Ian Dury.
Some years later I was at the funeral of the amazing Les Prior, star of 8th Day and Alberto y los Trios Paranoias. He had lost his battle with cancer. His funeral was held in Heptonstall, where he had lived. He is buried in the same churchyard as Syvia Plath. It was a snowy January day. And Ian Dury came to pay his respects.
The Albertos were on Stiff records, a family of extremely talented and rather eccentric artists. I saw Ian Dury and the Blockheads on the Stiff tour when it hit Rochdale, sometime between these two meetings. Wreckless Eric was on the bill too.
It all seemed so unremarkable at the time.Of course I don't mean that the characters and music were unremarkable, but that I took these adventures and opportunities for granted.
Thursday 16 February 2012
Festival time again
Have you ever pulled the wool over a nun’s eyes?
I had a once in a lifetime opportunity to do it when I was 16.
My parents lived on the other side of the world. A three-day plane journey with stopovers in Copenhagen and Singapore. A two-week delay on letters – even the flimsy blue airmail ones.
My sisters and I were at a convent boarding school in Matlock. Miserable most of the time, we were homesick for our old lives in Manchester, travel sick whenever we went abroad, and desperate for friends who might invite you to stay for the short school holidays in between.
It was a small school by any standards. Academically challenged, the nuns were survivors in a hostile world. The 1960s weren’t kind to nuns more at home with the Ireland of the Magdalene laundries than the revolutions of the swinging sixties in England. They were half-heartedly repressive, often cruel and occasionally unexpectedly kind.
As pupils we survived with black humour and a certain amount of fantasy. Letters, especially from boys, were a lifeline.
Cockroaches in the bread and marge, constant gnawing hunger, rationed baths and hair washes, mass, benediction, night prayers, confiscated underwear, infrequent laundry collections. Hormones, period pains and body odour. It’s hard to believe that parents paid for this style of neglect. No Ofsted inspections. Our joke was that the legend ‘recognised by the Department of Education’ on the sign referred to an inspector passing by and saying ‘that’s a dreadful school’.
To our amazement we were told we could take part in the Bronze Duke of Edinburgh award scheme. The level of freedom and initiative this opportunity suggested was against all the previous practice and management of the school.
My best friend in Lower 6 was a doctor’s daughter from Derby. Her father became a papal knight, which gives you some idea of the calibre of Catholic family she came from.
We chose folk music as our special interest and skill. Ironically our favourite performance song was Peter Paul and Mary’s ‘Leaving on a jet plane’.
We discovered that the Bath Festival was to be held in June 1970. The line up was a dream for anyone into American rock music – most definitely not a folk line up. This was a year after Woodstock. There was no understanding or experience of what a music festival might be, even for those of us desperate to go.
We told the nuns it was essential for our Duke of Edinburgh award. We were given an extra long weekend off school. My parents’ were never asked for permission, though my friend’s must have given theirs. Her older sister, a former pupil, lived outside Bath. We must have got tickets from somewhere. We travelled by train. Her brother in law attempted to drive us to the site, but had to leave us to walk the last eight miles along a solid traffic jam. I don’t remember having money. We certainly didn’t have food, water, a tent, sleeping bags. Websites tell me there were 150,000 there. One of the first people I met on the road was my boyfriend from Manchester. We then met with an old school friend. She was a smoker, which came in useful later. It rained in true festival style and plastic sheets were handed out. She welded them together with her cigarette to form a shelter for us.
The line up was incredible. Jefferson Airplane,The Byrds, Country Joe, Pink Floyd, Its a Beautiful Day, Canned Heat, Frank Zappa, Led Zeppelin, Santana, Dr John, Fairport Convention and more.
I have no recollection of the toilets.
I had a Nigerian blanket with a hole in the centre that I wore as a poncho. I still have it.
On the final morning we were down in front of the stage as the dawn came up listening to the Byrds – that’s Byrds with a Y.
There were no screens or other stages – I know I must have seen everyone on the line up. I didn't sleep and I didn't leave the site.
We hitched back to her sister’s house, had cold baths and got the train back to Matlock.
The nuns told us they had seen footage on the television news.
There were never any repercussions. We never completed our bronze award.
Sometimes I think “Did it really happen’?
I found my ticket in an old box of mementoes a couple of weeks ago, and i still have a flyer.
This is the festival that inspired Michael Eavis to set up the Glastonbury Festival.
I had a once in a lifetime opportunity to do it when I was 16.
My parents lived on the other side of the world. A three-day plane journey with stopovers in Copenhagen and Singapore. A two-week delay on letters – even the flimsy blue airmail ones.
My sisters and I were at a convent boarding school in Matlock. Miserable most of the time, we were homesick for our old lives in Manchester, travel sick whenever we went abroad, and desperate for friends who might invite you to stay for the short school holidays in between.
It was a small school by any standards. Academically challenged, the nuns were survivors in a hostile world. The 1960s weren’t kind to nuns more at home with the Ireland of the Magdalene laundries than the revolutions of the swinging sixties in England. They were half-heartedly repressive, often cruel and occasionally unexpectedly kind.
As pupils we survived with black humour and a certain amount of fantasy. Letters, especially from boys, were a lifeline.
Cockroaches in the bread and marge, constant gnawing hunger, rationed baths and hair washes, mass, benediction, night prayers, confiscated underwear, infrequent laundry collections. Hormones, period pains and body odour. It’s hard to believe that parents paid for this style of neglect. No Ofsted inspections. Our joke was that the legend ‘recognised by the Department of Education’ on the sign referred to an inspector passing by and saying ‘that’s a dreadful school’.
To our amazement we were told we could take part in the Bronze Duke of Edinburgh award scheme. The level of freedom and initiative this opportunity suggested was against all the previous practice and management of the school.
My best friend in Lower 6 was a doctor’s daughter from Derby. Her father became a papal knight, which gives you some idea of the calibre of Catholic family she came from.
We chose folk music as our special interest and skill. Ironically our favourite performance song was Peter Paul and Mary’s ‘Leaving on a jet plane’.
We discovered that the Bath Festival was to be held in June 1970. The line up was a dream for anyone into American rock music – most definitely not a folk line up. This was a year after Woodstock. There was no understanding or experience of what a music festival might be, even for those of us desperate to go.
We told the nuns it was essential for our Duke of Edinburgh award. We were given an extra long weekend off school. My parents’ were never asked for permission, though my friend’s must have given theirs. Her older sister, a former pupil, lived outside Bath. We must have got tickets from somewhere. We travelled by train. Her brother in law attempted to drive us to the site, but had to leave us to walk the last eight miles along a solid traffic jam. I don’t remember having money. We certainly didn’t have food, water, a tent, sleeping bags. Websites tell me there were 150,000 there. One of the first people I met on the road was my boyfriend from Manchester. We then met with an old school friend. She was a smoker, which came in useful later. It rained in true festival style and plastic sheets were handed out. She welded them together with her cigarette to form a shelter for us.
The line up was incredible. Jefferson Airplane,The Byrds, Country Joe, Pink Floyd, Its a Beautiful Day, Canned Heat, Frank Zappa, Led Zeppelin, Santana, Dr John, Fairport Convention and more.
I have no recollection of the toilets.
I had a Nigerian blanket with a hole in the centre that I wore as a poncho. I still have it.
On the final morning we were down in front of the stage as the dawn came up listening to the Byrds – that’s Byrds with a Y.
There were no screens or other stages – I know I must have seen everyone on the line up. I didn't sleep and I didn't leave the site.
We hitched back to her sister’s house, had cold baths and got the train back to Matlock.
The nuns told us they had seen footage on the television news.
There were never any repercussions. We never completed our bronze award.
Sometimes I think “Did it really happen’?
I found my ticket in an old box of mementoes a couple of weeks ago, and i still have a flyer.
This is the festival that inspired Michael Eavis to set up the Glastonbury Festival.
Saturday 11 February 2012
Shower the people you love with love
Tonight there's a party going on in my house. It's my oldest son's 25th birthday weekend, and he has invited some of his friends from Sheffield out to the Peak District for a bit of a do - good food, good company, interesting cocktails and a lot of hilarity.
This morning I thought I might be on Radio 4's Saturday Live - I'd been phoned up during the week to say that they had Christy Moore on, and they thought there could be a story telling theme my piece would fit in with. It didn't happen , but I was keen to listen to Christy Moore - one of our family favourites.
I saw him at Sheffield's City Hall back in the early nineties. He made a joke about it being further to cross the stage at the City Hall than it was to walk from the station to the folk club venue when he'd first played Sheffield.
Rob Brydon was on talking about his inheritance tracks too -James Taylor featured, and he talked about indoctrinating his children, playing James Taylor's music in the home, the car, wherever - and would those songs become their inheritance tracks. Christy Moore played a similar role in my children's lives - Reel in the Flickering Light and Lisdoonvarna are still listened to with nostalgia and affection. I was just thinking about this when Christy struck up Lisdoonvarna live in the studio.
I saw James Taylor three times in quick succession - around the time of October Road. My wonderful friend Joyce was an even bigger fan than I was, and we saw that he was on at Bridgewater Hall. Tickets had been sold out for weeks, and spontaneous trips to Manchester were almost impossible for me with young children. But we phoned up the box office on the day of the concert, just in case - and got two tickets.It was an amazing concert - we were on a balcony over the stage, we could see the set list, a piece of A3 paper taped to the floor, scrawled with a big felt tip pen. We were so thrilled with ourselves at how lucky we had been.
We were on a roll, and saw him a couple more times, possibly on the same long tour.
Five years later Joyce died of a brain tumour, a terrible loss to me and my children. She had time to plan her humanist funeral, and I knew she'd choose a James Taylor song. You've got a Friend was one of our anthems - she'd been an amazing friend to me, helping me through difficult days of single parenthood. She'd helped me type up my MA dissertation. She was honest and true.It was even because of Joyce that I made an appearance on the Antiques Roadshow!
The funeral service was full of all those who had loved her - and she was a woman who was loved by everyone who got to know her. I was trying to be strong. Her death was a release for her. And then Shower the People You Love with Love was played.
Today is my Sweet Baby James' 25th birthday party.
This morning I thought I might be on Radio 4's Saturday Live - I'd been phoned up during the week to say that they had Christy Moore on, and they thought there could be a story telling theme my piece would fit in with. It didn't happen , but I was keen to listen to Christy Moore - one of our family favourites.
I saw him at Sheffield's City Hall back in the early nineties. He made a joke about it being further to cross the stage at the City Hall than it was to walk from the station to the folk club venue when he'd first played Sheffield.
Rob Brydon was on talking about his inheritance tracks too -James Taylor featured, and he talked about indoctrinating his children, playing James Taylor's music in the home, the car, wherever - and would those songs become their inheritance tracks. Christy Moore played a similar role in my children's lives - Reel in the Flickering Light and Lisdoonvarna are still listened to with nostalgia and affection. I was just thinking about this when Christy struck up Lisdoonvarna live in the studio.
I saw James Taylor three times in quick succession - around the time of October Road. My wonderful friend Joyce was an even bigger fan than I was, and we saw that he was on at Bridgewater Hall. Tickets had been sold out for weeks, and spontaneous trips to Manchester were almost impossible for me with young children. But we phoned up the box office on the day of the concert, just in case - and got two tickets.It was an amazing concert - we were on a balcony over the stage, we could see the set list, a piece of A3 paper taped to the floor, scrawled with a big felt tip pen. We were so thrilled with ourselves at how lucky we had been.
We were on a roll, and saw him a couple more times, possibly on the same long tour.
Five years later Joyce died of a brain tumour, a terrible loss to me and my children. She had time to plan her humanist funeral, and I knew she'd choose a James Taylor song. You've got a Friend was one of our anthems - she'd been an amazing friend to me, helping me through difficult days of single parenthood. She'd helped me type up my MA dissertation. She was honest and true.It was even because of Joyce that I made an appearance on the Antiques Roadshow!
The funeral service was full of all those who had loved her - and she was a woman who was loved by everyone who got to know her. I was trying to be strong. Her death was a release for her. And then Shower the People You Love with Love was played.
Today is my Sweet Baby James' 25th birthday party.
Tuesday 7 February 2012
Running up that Hill
Kate Bush was on the television the other night - I have to admit I wasn't sure about her at first, back in the day. I had a friend in the music business who told me about her - nowadays it's hard to imagine a record company committing to a young artist's development in that way, just leaving her to grow for a couple of years. I missed her tour, and I don't think I know anyone who went. But the programme sent me to the i tunes library to find Running up that Hill, and I realised what an amazing piece of music it is to dance to.
When I was younger, in the late sixties/early seventies, I was part of a dance troupe in Manchester, run by a wizard of the early computer age called Allan Prior. He was older than us - other members included Juliet Begley and John Flanagan. If you look at the Manchesterbeat website for the Magic Village you will pick up other people's memories of this time. It's not quite true to say if you can remember it you can't have been there! Some of us were living our lives with very heightened awareness, experiencing events that have become part of our souls. As a hippy dance troupe we were welcomed at every venue in Manchester where there was space to dance. Audiences, mostly male, tended to sit on the floor, cross legged, shaking their long hair, listening intently with eyes closed. We spiralled and sparkled around them in ever more intricate patterns, interpreting the music for them. In this way I saw everyone from Curved Air to Wings and more. We never had to buy a ticket, or pay to get in. Amazing.
I had learnt to dance at youth clubs where DJs played records associated with the Twisted Wheel - all very soulful - more Stax than Motown, and I still love dancing to that kind of music - but for a bit of shamanic self expression, I find the old hippy crazy diamond dancer is still there, just waiting to be asked.
Running up that Hill and Holgar Czukay's Persian Love have been working for me for the last couple of days. I'd love to set up a dance event for those who still love an idiot dance.
When I was younger, in the late sixties/early seventies, I was part of a dance troupe in Manchester, run by a wizard of the early computer age called Allan Prior. He was older than us - other members included Juliet Begley and John Flanagan. If you look at the Manchesterbeat website for the Magic Village you will pick up other people's memories of this time. It's not quite true to say if you can remember it you can't have been there! Some of us were living our lives with very heightened awareness, experiencing events that have become part of our souls. As a hippy dance troupe we were welcomed at every venue in Manchester where there was space to dance. Audiences, mostly male, tended to sit on the floor, cross legged, shaking their long hair, listening intently with eyes closed. We spiralled and sparkled around them in ever more intricate patterns, interpreting the music for them. In this way I saw everyone from Curved Air to Wings and more. We never had to buy a ticket, or pay to get in. Amazing.
I had learnt to dance at youth clubs where DJs played records associated with the Twisted Wheel - all very soulful - more Stax than Motown, and I still love dancing to that kind of music - but for a bit of shamanic self expression, I find the old hippy crazy diamond dancer is still there, just waiting to be asked.
Running up that Hill and Holgar Czukay's Persian Love have been working for me for the last couple of days. I'd love to set up a dance event for those who still love an idiot dance.
Saturday 4 February 2012
Reasons to be Cheerful
Following on from the last post, I had a couple more suggestions via Facebook, which set me off again, thinking of songs to accompany heartbreak and aid recovery.
I'm not including anything that I haven't seen performed live by the named artist. I appreciate that so many lyrics describe love lost and found, and maybe some of you out there have your own anthems and favourites for days like these.
Again, in no particular order
Led Zeppelin - Whole Lotta Love
Drive in Rock and the Rockettes - Stupid Cupid ( Cathy singing like Brenda Lee!)
Smokey Robinson - Tracks of my Tears
Jackson Browne - Fountains of Sorrow/ The Pretender/ These Days and of course Take it Easy
Joan Baez - Love is just a four letter word ( haven't ever seen Dylan do it)
Ian Dury and the Blockheads - Reasons to be Cheerful - just to remind myself what life is really about!
I'm not including anything that I haven't seen performed live by the named artist. I appreciate that so many lyrics describe love lost and found, and maybe some of you out there have your own anthems and favourites for days like these.
Again, in no particular order
Led Zeppelin - Whole Lotta Love
Drive in Rock and the Rockettes - Stupid Cupid ( Cathy singing like Brenda Lee!)
Smokey Robinson - Tracks of my Tears
Jackson Browne - Fountains of Sorrow/ The Pretender/ These Days and of course Take it Easy
Joan Baez - Love is just a four letter word ( haven't ever seen Dylan do it)
Ian Dury and the Blockheads - Reasons to be Cheerful - just to remind myself what life is really about!
Wednesday 1 February 2012
What Becomes of the Broken Hearted
Didn't expect to find myself here ever again. In the past I have used live music as a way of mending a broken heart, and I'm sure it will work again. It's something to do with the energy and creativity - in fact it's about using soul to mend a heart, whatever the style of music.
In the absence of any tickets booked, I started to think back over live performances I've seen that will help me through. Some are sad, and feed the melancholy - others take you right out of it.
In no particular order -
Little Feat - Long Distance Love
Curtis Mayfield - Move on Up
Joan Baez - Diamonds and Rust
Smokey Robinson - Tears of a Clown
Beach Boys - God Only Knows
Kinks - You Really Got me
Candi Staton - You Got the Love & Young Hearts Run Free
James Taylor - You got a Friend & Fire and Rain
Captain Beefheart - My Head is my only House
Patti Smith - Because the Night
Van Morrison - Someone like you
Sufjan Stephens - Impossible Dream
and last for now
Country Joe and the Fish - Here I Go Again
Not exhaustive, just off the top of my aching head. Remembering them feels quite therapeutic.
In the absence of any tickets booked, I started to think back over live performances I've seen that will help me through. Some are sad, and feed the melancholy - others take you right out of it.
In no particular order -
Little Feat - Long Distance Love
Curtis Mayfield - Move on Up
Joan Baez - Diamonds and Rust
Smokey Robinson - Tears of a Clown
Beach Boys - God Only Knows
Kinks - You Really Got me
Candi Staton - You Got the Love & Young Hearts Run Free
James Taylor - You got a Friend & Fire and Rain
Captain Beefheart - My Head is my only House
Patti Smith - Because the Night
Van Morrison - Someone like you
Sufjan Stephens - Impossible Dream
and last for now
Country Joe and the Fish - Here I Go Again
Not exhaustive, just off the top of my aching head. Remembering them feels quite therapeutic.
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