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.

In My Life

There are places I remember. As time goes by I discover that this blog is as much about geography as music. The setting can stir my memory just as effectively. My walk through Manchester to the Michael Chabon talk back in October seems to have started something. Last Sunday there was a reunion to celebrate the Russell Club. I was sorry I couldn’t go, but I did find myself in Manchester on both the Saturday and the Monday for different events. Saturday’s plan was to meet up with an old friend for lunch and a poetry and jazz event at the Whitworth Art Gallery. Simon Armitage was one of the performing poets. He’s a favourite of mine, and I have seen him interviewed and reading his poetry before. He also filmed part of his fantastic version of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight in the historic house where I work. There’s a bus that runs direct from Bakewell to the centre of Manchester and a couple of times a year I am tempted to catch it, because it seems to make sense at the time. I still find public transport a bit of an adventure, and the journey into Manchester included a fantastic cast of characters that may get written about one day, truth being stranger than fiction. The bus came to a sudden halt in the middle of the road in the centre of Longsight. It was completely immobilised and the driver struggled to find the magic button to make it work again. After ten minutes I made a decision. I knew I could walk down Dickenson Rd and would then be close to the Whitworth Gallery. I asked myself when, if ever, would I get the chance to retrace the journey I made on a daily basis back in the late 70s. So turning the corner I walked past Longsight market, as vibrant and multicultural as ever. On past Wise Chemists, the family business of Manchester promoter Alan Wise, still there on the corner of Hamilton Rd. I used to live on Reynell Rd, on the right at the far end. I clearly remembered walking this route in good weather and bad, slipping on ice in my pearlised pink leather ankle boots, admiring my new haircut in a shop window reflection. There were more unpleasant memories too. I worked at the Asian Women’s refuge as a language teacher and if I walked children from the refuge to school I would run the gauntlet of abuse, shouted from passing cars, and even to my face. Last Monday I took the train from Buxton to Manchester with my son Charlie and my friend Keith. We had tickets for Shearwater. They were playing at a venue that was new to us, St Philip’s Church in Salford. Except it wasn’t really new to me. From the age of ten until I was thirteen I went to school just round the corner. Adelphi House Grammar School for Girls. I believe the building is now part of Salford University. And when I left boarding school I spent a year working at Salford Central Library, just a short walk away on The Crescent. Like Dickenson Rd, this area seems to held in a suspended state of partial renewal. It hasn’t been transformed in a way that makes it unrecognisable like many areas of Manchester. The Catholic cathedral was still there. Roads and junctions had been widened. Pavements had strange blue neon strip lights set into them. The bus stops were in the same place – we used to walk one bus stop closer to Manchester to avoid the chaos of getting on the bus outside school. A man with no nose used to ride past on his bike every afternoon. The Education Offices, where I went to plead my case after I had left Exeter University after only a term (I missed the north ) are now unoccupied. Salford Education Committee gave me a full three years worth of grants when I started afresh at Leeds the following year. There was the Dickensian corner shop where I once had to buy two ounces of cheese, wrapped in a scrap of greaseproof paper. It was for domestic science – cheese scones, and my mother who worked full time didn’t have any cheese in the house. No late night mini supermarkets in those days. I had to catch an early bus and go searching. The building was still there, but it was no longer a shop. Pubs with familiar names were boarded up, including the Peel Park on Chapel St. Peel Park was the view from the art room window, a real life Lowry landscape. In fact Lowry drew St Philip’s church, and the architect of the British Museum designed it. We discovered a great pub, The New Oxford, that was still going strong, with a friendly clientele and a huge range of Belgian fruit beers. The band were amazing, and hopefully they will put a video made during the sound check up on their website. Their sound engineer is from Manchester, and his father had filmed them with a camera attached to a remote control model helicopter. It was a strange and multi-layered evening. I loved the music. I loved the neo-classical Church. I loved being back in Salford. Even the tension of wondering would we make it to Piccadilly in time to catch the last train back to Buxton added something – a reminder of those days of dashing for the last bus home. And I haven’t even touched on the concerts at Salford University, when I was one of Allan Prior’s dance troupe. Another day.

When I'm 64

Whilst I am thrilled that the Stones are still strutting their stuff,I do wonder what all the fuss is about with regards to their ages.They have proved themselves survivors in spite of the early tragic loss of Brian Jones. Many others of their generation have fallen by the wayside. However in the last couple of years I have been lucky enough to have seen some amazing performances given by artists who have been around for a long time. None of them have been diminished by age - if anything they have improved with experience. They include Ravi Shankar in his 90s,Crosby and Nash (late 60s,early 70s),Candi Staton (late 60s),Patti Smith (mid 60s)Jackson Browne (early 60s)and Leonard Cohen (late 70s). A few weeks ago I went to a local folk club with my cousin to see Julie Felix, who I remembered from the Frost Report back in the sixties. She is 74 and had just got back from performing at a Goddess Convention in Mexico! Enough said.

Cut the cake and pick up the pieces

Yesterday BBC's Flog It! came to film where I work, Haddon Hall in Derbyshire. One of my colleagues had been doing a bit of research on Paul Martin the presenter. She told me that he had played drums with the Average White Band when he was younger. Earlier this year I went to see the Titanic Odyssey celebrations in Liverpool - the amazing Little Girl Giant and her Uncle.On the way home on the train a kind young man offered me his seat. We got talking and our conversation ranged from his family connections to the Titanic, his love of Icelandic music, his imminent move to Germany, and the fact that his parents were friendly with one of the Average White Band. A memorable random train conversation. Back in the spring I went to a local folk night in a tiny rugby club venue to see Chris Wood, one of my favourite singers. He also mentioned Average White Band, as he had recently played at a festival with one of the members. Back in my Drive In Rock days we played on the same bill as the Average White Band in their early 70s glory days. I got the chance to ask Paul Martin about his connection with them, and our paths hadn't crossed on stage back then - he is much too young - but I find this a particularly interesting example of 6 degrees of separation!

Tar barrels and mermaids

This weekend I saw a piece in the Guardian what's on section about the tar barrels of Ottery St Mary near Exeter.It's a calendar custom defying health and safety regulations.Back in 1972 I was at Exeter University for a term.In those few short months I saw David Bowie,Shakin Stephens and Pentangle at the students' union. I also went to see the tar barrel event.There was an old fashioned fair in the town,featuring a two headed stuffed calf and a real mermaid,a woman in a fishtail,sitting in a glass tank.Strange days as the Doors once sang.