Arthurs Diary

Posted 30th Jan 2010

 A few days in US
 Reading books on communism and socialism and dictatorship in Chile, African American ladies as maids to white ladies,seeing thousands of parrots on the telephone lines,watching bums taking time off begging to smoke in the sunshine,attending movies of fantasy-Avatar, bleak but funny romance-with George Clooney, James Bond-like Sherlock Holmes ,engaging in conversations about dreams and failing societies, people talking about hopes for the future and fears of failure,

dinners with Mole sauce,macro-carob-carrot-crazycake with lectures on self-development, grandson playing with snot, a chopped -off dog"s leg lying suspiciously on the pavement close to a vietnamese restaurant and church, everyone going down like pins on a bowling alley with virulent viruses that take away sense of smell and taste and leave your head throbbing while you cough up the breakfast you couldn"t quite eat, Fabulous plenty everywhere you look-and this in a time of economic squeeze, in one store-organic mostly, fourteen kinds of cereal in bulk, vitamins from a technology so new the the body systems it feeds haven"t evolved yet,elegant organic cotton clothing, wines of every taste and hue- including seasonal german Gluewein, roast turkey, seven kinds of chicken in 16 kinds of sauce, seaweed wheatgrass and seventy two thousand other food -related items in a store the size of a football stadium, sleeping in a ski -suit because no bed-covers, on the radio joybringer by Holst, Joy by Beethoven, joy by little richard, , few buses, few trains, but cars,cars, cars, motorways and flyovers criss-crossing one another five high,

hosts of young fine women wearing short shorts and tight t-shirts,tall men in tiny trousers, tattoed art-ladies,women of sixty dancing like twenty, conversations in Latin spanish floating in the air while friends give movie-gifts of Willie Nelson, Richard Widmark, and Lonesome Dove, listening to the Sun record collection with Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash,Danny"s got palsy, looks and speaks like a stroke victim,

talking of former Scabs singer and Bruce Hughes, and houses doors kicked in for robbery at lunch-time, and John Aelli's deeper than deep from down in the bottom voice on the radio.Obama everywhere. pavements, but no bodies visible walking.Looking at I AM THAT I am not a person, I don"t recognise who I thought I was, and no time to remember who that was anyway,air-vents in every room- there must be holes in the walls and windows or why doesn"t the air compress and squeeze me like toothpaste. cedar fever!

Blue moon New Year"s day Jim meeting E just back from Iraq before off to be debriefed, yoga yoga and prosperity-counselling , a bum comes onto Fred asking "Have you got two dollars?" Fred angrily "No"ing- sometimes the same bum will hit you twice ,remembering once I was given lunch by a tramp, on a table under the trees while doing Tai Chi forms, but tonight on all fours barking like a dog the last meatball was ceremoniously thrown over the fence at midnight to welcome in the New Year.

Kate cycling back through the DNA to answer an inner call to find ancestry discovers that that inner was outer lodged in mind and time, an analogy for an unecessary journey to get where we already are.

POSTED 4th May 2006

 

The Barfly Affair

 

 

Easter Sunday. No egg- rolling for me. Off to Brighton, to answer the call of Southern Counties Desert Island Discs under Gordon’s watchful eye. Right next to the BBC shop dissolving time with ace series from the near and distant past. A delightful host.

I have 6 tunes ready.Chosen on the spot, without reflection, during a brief phone-call.

 

The Laughing Policeman—a track from times when the village cop was a respected member of the community.

 

Old- fashioned Millionaire by Eartha Kitt.What a sexy lady.Such an individual and dramatic performance with irony thrown in.

 

A flamenco track by Estrella Morante on a cd entitlede Mi Cante y Un Poema.

Given to me by Shambu in Portugal last September when I was visiting Ganga.

 

That’s how Strong my Love is. By Otis Redding.What a heart. This is a song I do on stage. It is one of the tracks in the material currently being recorded with Nick Pynn.

 

Ne me Quitte Pas. A song by Jacques Brel sung Nina Simeone . I had just finished commenting that the song was a pivotal track in terms of its influence on two camps of artist------Anthony Newley and Bowie etc because of its chanson/dramatic approach (Bowie recorded another Brel track, Amsterdam)------and Eric Burdon, The Who etc because at that time Nina was the single most important female influence for those who loved dramatic soul singing. She influenced all the soon to be famous R+B and soul bands.—anyway on came the disc. To my surprise it was a distinctly male voice that rang. Out. Brel himself. Danger of downloading by search. By author rather than artist.

 

My final one was a track from the new Lene Lovich and Les Chappel cd, but the weather and road news etc cut us off. Gordon Astley and I had such fun doing the programme that we’ll do another half in September , this time starting with Lene Lovich and Les Chappel.

 

Back on the Brighton street, I recall that Instant Flight, the band I play with now and again are doing a gig in Camden Town. I think it’s at a place called the Butterfly Club.On the train, then. Then on the tube. I don’t know where it is.

Someone comes up to have a chat. Acquaintance from another band He and his girlfriend think the butterfly club is just down there. Ambling down the road, I meet the Magician in his Gothic splendour. I first met him and his gorgeous countess at a previous Instant flight gig.He guides me to the Barfly.Marco, Lucie and her lovely sister—those Czech women! Chattering to each other. James, drummer, taciturn as usual, but with a smile.

Bass-player Andrew prescient as usual. It’s a gig where quite a few bands play one after the other.

When I arrive a very heavy very loud band are playing. I position myself well out of reach of the sound. The audience is mixed. Some Goths(who’s footwear is later mocked by a motley gang outside),Large balding fellows more towards bikerdom.

Some smart elegant dressers. Young pyschedelos.Nonedescript sportswearers.Student types.etc.

Instant flight finally begin. Lucie throws herself to the floor and plays faultlessly ,her arms thrust above her head, stroking a keyboard she can’t see. Best Braille solo evah.

Marco resplendent in top hat stretches the sound .Tuneful and powerful they are.

Before I know it, marco has asked me up on stage. I wait until it feels right.Then we launch into improvisations based on Freeway.It vamps into I Got Money.Then it’s over.

I decide to take up the offer to sleep on Lucie and Marco’s floor

POSTED 6th Feb 2006

In December I went to Texas. This visit had a dual purpose.
It all owed me to follow up various musical initiatives, and at the same
time I was able to return to the bosom of my Texas family.In particular, I
got to see my son, Ali, and his beautiful wife, Shay, and her family.
Of course I got to see his mother, the redoubtable Salima and her partner.On
top of this, I got to see many old friends, both musical and social, as well
as those from the spiritual groups that Salima and I used to run.
A whole cross-section of these came, along with many musical friends, to the
gig I performed at the Saxon Pub.This was an impromptu affair, after one
rehearsal.Nevertheless, it was attended by many of the music industry
glitterati  of Austin
-among them, Margaret Moser of the Austin Chronicle and radio personalty
Jody Denburgh- (who launched the career of Davy Gray).
The line-up featured my son's father-in-law
Danny Levin on keyboards and violin- and what a musical Pandora's Box he
is.Wow!On Bass was my old friend and one-time manager Mike Morgan. He's at
present running the Screaming Acres recording studio in Dripping
Springs.He's also negotiating with the chinese over a machine that makes
water out of air. More importantly in this case he also plays
fliud and elastic bass for a local band Flounders without Eyes.
They are a jamming band whose set is based around tunes.
Excellent music, and some fine singing.
On cahon was Oliver Rajamani. He's a remarkable young
man whose family hail from Tamil Sri Lanka.He has his own band which fall
losely in the world category.Many of his songs are in Tamil and continue the
gypsy tradition.He is equally gifted as an instrumentalist and singer, but
is perhaps best known for his percussion-- he has his own percussion school.
Danny levin persuaded Cindy CashDollar to play dobro.Saintly music from her
fingers.She just goes to show that some saints are physically extremely
beautiful!She has played and recorded with many greats, including mr.Bob
Dylan.
On guitar was Gerry Page recommended by the gorgeous Tunisian singer
Fabienne Shine, and her manager.

We jammed and played around each other for two hours or so, and the spirit
of music flew that night.Dancing was wild and improvisation inspired. The
event got glowing reviews
from both a capacity crowd, and the media.

The next day Ali and I mosied on down to where Tex Thomas and the Dangling
Wranglers were playing.What a soulful band. I defy anyone to groove more!
Tex has one of those rough , lived in voices, and the band are stunningly
together without ever sinking to slickness. It was a great pleasure to be
invited up to sing with them!May they rock forever!

One of the great things about Austin is that almost any journey you make can
end up in music .Consequently the very next day, Ali and I headed out to
Mike Morgan's ranch.Before i knew it Mike had us in the studio. Out came all
his fancy gizmos. 24 hours later, we had an almost completed piece about a
guy and his Chinese lover.

The following night I had a dinner with Randall Ward
the guitar maestro who toured with me in England in the 90's.Time and
distance certainly put no barrier to our spirits.

Then, all too soon, back to blighty. From sunbathing to seven layers of
clothing.