Old Man

I have written before about the risk you take when you go to see those musicians who mean a lot. I have also written before about artists who continue to grow and develop into old age. They become the concentrated essence of everything they ever have and ever will be. Others just continue to perform as parodies of their former selves.I'm not going to name them, but you will have your own thoughts about that I am sure. So Crosby and Nash, Ravi Shankar, Patti Smith count among my essentials, my immortals. There are other artists that I got to see years after their first influence on my life - James Taylor, Joan Baez, Bob Dylan. I'd still make an effort to see Jackson Brown again too. Recently I have had an urge to see Van Morrison once more for old times sake. Sometimes it's about nostalgia, or even the bucket list. Driving back from the Neil Young and Crazy Horse last night I was trying to process what I felt about the experience. As the man behind me said to his girlfriend 'You either like Neil Young's feedback or you don't'. I suspect she didn't. I do. And I liked the tender old stuff, Heart of Gold. The magnificent Walk Like a Giant - we did all the way back to the car.The homage to Woodstock 'keep away from the towers' and the rain chant. The homage to Dylan and 60s radicalism Blowing in the Wind.Buffalo Springfield memories with Mr Soul. Cinnamon Girl.There was a lot of history in the room and on the stage. The Psychedelic Pill slipped down a treat. Four old men showing how it can be done, when the music has become part of your being, your soul. Most of the time they were playing to one another, not to the audience, but the side screens helped us to witness what was going on. My concert companion and I had concerns about having to buy 'standing ' tickets. Neil Young and Crazy Horse played with passion and energy for almost two and a half hours. Lessons learnt from the Old Man.

A new Manchester review

I have missed fly posters. Like graffiti, there isn't much of it where I live.In the past I had friends who were fly by night poster boys, dodging the police presence, risking moving in on someone else's patch. Some iconic posters have disintegrated in cellars and garages, the stock in trade of the flyposter. Bill Posters will be prosecuted - hard on old Bill. I like the way they decorate boarded up sites and buildings. I like the information they share. I remember a time when I would plan a night out based on a poster seen from the top deck of the bus, on my way to work. Recently I have been able to go through back copies of a fortnightly magazine from the late 1970s, New Manchester Review. I was actually looking for articles I wrote about food and food politics whilst I was working at On the 8th Day. I had never kept a copy of them. I found them, which was exciting in itself, but I was amazed by the wealth of articles and adverts about Manchester's music scene in those heady days from around 1977 to 1979. Bands I had forgotten about, gigs I had gone to,clubs where I had worked on the door. No wonder it all seemed so intense - it really was! Hoping to share some of those days through this blog in weeks to come, but if you want to know where to find them, they're in the Manchester Collection at the City Library on Deansgate!

Remembrance and reverberation

In the last days of October 2012 we went to see Efterklang play their album Piramida at the Bridgewater Hall. I believe 'Efterklang' means remembrance and reverberation in Danish. It was a hauntingly beautiful performance with all sorts of resonances. Their drummer for that part of their tour was Budgie from the Banshees. The music for Piramida was created with sounds and inspiration from an abandoned Russian coal mining community near Spitzbergen. The town had to be abandoned in the late 90s, partly in response to the lack of funds and the opening up of the USSR and its economy. They made a film with Andreas Koefoed at Piramida, called The Ghost of Piramida. You can apply to show the film, for free, and Sheffield group Death by Shoes arranged to present it at the Showroom bar last week. The film shows just how inspirational the place was for the musicians, but it is beautifully intertwined with with a film made by someone who lived and worked there as a young man.He was a photographer and cine film recorder of the community. He was married and brought up his young family there. The poignancy of family footage and the echoes of the past are very powerful. It's a beautiful use of archive film. The use of archives is very much to the forefront of my mind at the moment, as I look forward to becoming an archive trainee with the National Archives. If you get a chance to see the film, look out for the polar bear, and the way the gulls have made their nests on window ledges. It's magical. Back in October last year Casper Clausen, the vocalist, referred to the winter months looming up - ' see you on the other side'. We are nearly there as I write this, with snow flurries at my window.

Peaches en Regalia over Buxton tonight

Tonight I came out of hibernation to go and see the Zappatistas in Buxton. Booked for the Four Four Time festival, the band features some amazing musicians, led by John Etheridge. Any concert that starts with Peaches en Regalia is guaranteed to please.I want it played at my funeral, because at some point in my existence - I nearly wrote life - I have to go down an aisle to that triumphant sound. Watching such amazing musicians perform Frank Zappa's music was a real treat. I remember watching Robyn Hitchcock cover Captain Beefheart songs.There was a moment of doubt - can he do them justice? And then I relaxed into hearing my favourite songs played live. Tonight was a similar experience. Music I had forgotten I knew came back to me in all its glory. Memories of French friends in Casablanca, who were desperate to have me explain the lyrics of Moving to Montana Soon - raising my lonely dental floss, riding a pygmy pony, zircon encrusted tweezers. I did wonder if, as a musician playing Zappa or Beefheart, you have to resist channelling the artist, or actively try to be possessed by their spirit. They were both such individual and powerful performers, composers,musical mavericks, stage presences, artists in every sense. I enjoyed every minute of tonight's concert. The music of Frank Zappa shouldn't be trapped in digital downloads, vinyl grooves, or even sheet music. It needs to be played live and released back into the wild where it belongs.

Missed opportunity

I listened to Arlene Philips on Radio 4 this morning. She was talking about her Manchester roots, and her struggle to study dance. A few years ago a good friend invited me to go and watch the recording of Andrew Marr's Sunday morning television programme.Richard Thompson was booked to appear on it and he knew I was a fan. My good friend has a good friend who produces the programme.It was an interesting weekend in many ways, because it was also a time for me to reconnect with people I had been close to in Sarawak in my teens.Early Sunday morning we made our way to the BBC studios in Shepherds Bush, and found our way to the Andrew Marr Show set. There was an outside broadcast, an interview with David Cameron at home, before he was Prime Minister.Arlene Philips was one of the guests. Richard Thompson sang a couple of songs. It was interesting to watch the process of recording. It was much slicker than pre-recorded programmes I have had the opportunity to observe. When it was all over, we went for a BBC breakfast, guests and production team and hangers on.I was disappointed that Richard Thompson had to leave, and therefore couldn't join us, and in my disappointment I failed to make the most of the fact that I was sitting next to Arlene Philips. Listening to her on the radio this morning I thought of all the things I could have chatted to her about. Shared geography, a love of dance, escape. I wondered if she was aware of the dance troupe I danced with in my teens. It was an informal group of hippy dancers, led by Allan Prior an early computer wizard.All mentioned in dispatches on the Manchesterbeat website, especially featured at the Magic Village. It made me realise how important dance was to me in my teens.When I studied homeopathy I learnt about a remedy, Sepia, made from the ink of a cuttlefish. It won't surprise you to hear that patients who suit Sepia often express their mood as being like living under a black cloud.The other main indication for this remedy is that the patient loves to dance. dancing energises them, lifts their spirits, transforms their state of mind.I spent most of my teens feeling like that! The dark misery of boarding school was exorcised by the joy of hippy dancing. I was a shy and retiring teenager, a typical self effacing Catholic schoolgirl who avoided any hint of showing off. But I had no self consciousness or fear when it came to dancing. It still lifts my spirit and shifts my mood now.

Bish Bosch

Yesterday I wrote that Bowie's new single reminded me of Scott Walker. Late Junction have been playing some of his music this week, and tonight they included a snippet from Jarvis Cocker's recent interview with him.There are some interesting reviews of Bish Bosch online, and from what I have heard, it follows themes from The Drift. I don't expect Scott Walker to sound like the pop star I screamed for at the Odeon in Manchester back in the days when I was barely a teenager. I remember the surge of fans pouring out of the main doors and holding up the traffic on Oxford St while we longed for the Walker Brothers to show their handsome faces. I still love those early songs - No Regrets, My Ship is Coming In. I loved his Jaques Brel songs. I remember a few of us singing along to Next in the 5th form common room at school, hoping the nuns would hear how subversive we were.I'm the same as I was then, but also different. So is he - still exploring his creative boundaries and abilities.

Where are we now

It has been interesting to hear David Bowie's new single, released to coincide with his birthday. Radio 4's Today programme reported the news early yesterday morning and seemed to think that it was released at 5 am so they could. I am not sure what to make of the video and the song. There's a Scott Walker melancholy about it. The lyrics seem to be about places he remembers - a new method of exploring psychogeography . The video is disturbing in its imagery - those strange little faces. But Bowie has traditionally been ahead of the game, and his influences have been far reaching over decades. I was lucky enough to see him three times in a few weeks back in 1972, twice in one week in Manchester, and then again during my short stay at Exeter University. Much as I have loved his music and his changes, that was enough. The Today programme followed up their Bowie news item with an interview this morning. Sir John Oldham, described as a senior clinician, and Nicholas Coleridge, MD of Conde Nast, were interviewed as obsessive fans. It was all very light hearted and good natured, but the interviewer seemed taken aback that men of such standing in society were also Bowie fans. I think people forget that there's a generation who grew up with musical heroes who are now pillars of the community, and that the two things aren't mutually exclusive. One of them had seen Bowie Preston in 1973 and life changed for him.There are some great anecdotes about David Bowie on the Manchesterbeat website, concerning his early visits to the Magic Village.With his Arts Lab approach, his love of mime, his cross dressing theatricality and stage presence he would have been a starman even if he hadn't got involved in music.Where are we now, he asks. We are here listening to what you have to tell us. Thank you.