A Memphibian in London

Scenes from London life

2012-01-23T15:49:00.000Z

Revealing the naked wisdom of the stars

2012-01-22T20:42:00.002Z

Master drummer (and polymath electronic music maker/artist) Roy Berry has posted a very entertaining blog post on his early musical influences and output, which contains a couple of rare treasures from the early '90s. I alluded to both of these in this post two years ago, and it's great to find them now available for wider enjoyment: An All-Gourd Band and Bob's Lead Hyena.

Trey Harrison and an All-Gourd Band - "O My Calabash" - As I described in my earlier post, this was an impromptu freak-out featuring Mark Gooch on gourd flute and gourd saxophone (both of which he had made), the late and much-lamented Craig Shindler on a calabash electric bass (also by Gooch), Lee Swets on Fender bass, Roy Berry on drums, Trey Harrison on vocals, and me on a gourd fiddle made for me by Jack Adcock. The text is from a Polynesian poem in praise of the calabash as an essential navigation device on the open seas. ("Oh my calabash, revealing the naked wisdom of the stars/Oh my calabash, bringing me a brother's life-saving love!") This was released on Loverly, and on the flipside was a very credible straightforward rendition of "Polkadots & Moonbeams" with Trey on vocals, John McClure on some very tasty guitar, Doug Easley on bass, and Kurt Ruleman on drums.

Bob's Lead Hyena - "Jelly" - For my money, this was the most interesting band in Memphis in the early '90s, though sadly it was also among the shortest-lived. When Johnny Williams (bass) moved away, I filled in for a couple of rehearsals and one gig, as I recall, mainly (I think) because I knew all the material from a live recording I had of a set they had played on WEVL. "Jelly" was always my favorite, but I was also partial to a song called "Birthday Pony" ("Feeling like a pony at a birthday party/People payin' money just to ride me around."). Jim Duckworth had also left the band by this time, leaving a more stripped down sound, but also without the wild flights of epic guitar which characterized the first incarnation of the band. I always thought he and guitarist Mark Gooch were perfect foils for one another. I have no idea when this recording was made, but there is clearly no Duckworth here. Gooch's guitar phrasing is trippy and beautiful, as was always typical of his playing. As far as I can tell, the personnel here would be Gooch (guitar), Roy Berry (drums), Johnny Williams (bass) and Stoten Outlan (vocals), one of Memphis' most underrated front men.

My appearance on "Voice of Americans"

2012-01-22T20:34:00.002Z

Back on 9th January, I appeared as a guest on Resonance FM's "Voice of Americans" show hosted by Lewis Schaffer and Lisa Moyle (she's the person I alluded to here). In addition to some amusing verbal sparring with the hosts, I was able to debut a Linda Heck track from the upcoming Transformed album, which people seemed to enjoy. The podcast is here, or if you're too lazy to click, I have ripped it to SoundCloud.

Voice Of Americans January 9th 2012 by Jimi Inc.

The glamour of live radio

Zorn free

2012-01-20T15:53:00.007Z

I keep stumbling across great things in the Internet Archive, and when I do, I feel compelled to share with the scant readership of this blog. Here we join John Zorn on KPFA Berkeley in 1987, previewing and talking about his album "Spillane," and speaking very interestingly about his compositional and improvisational processes. It was only a couple of years later that I discovered him via his collaboration with Tim Berne on Spy vs. Spy, and then the amazing Naked City album, which rearranged my musical brain in a profound way. Moving through every conceivable genre in kaleidoscopic fashion, with frequent stops in the worlds of thrash, hardcore, ambient, skronk, and Carl Stalling, whom Zorn name-checks around the 17:00 mark here, it's an intense musical ride, even 23 years later. The results were by turns beautiful and terrifying, with the latter being greatly aided by the presence of Yamantaka (then Yamatsuka) Eye, whom I also encountered for the first time here.

"A Visit with John Zorn, KPFA, 1987"

"Snagglepuss"

"Chinatown"

Scenes from London life

2012-01-20T15:13:00.000Z

Pertaining to One Man's Dream

2012-01-20T14:56:00.002Z

I stumbled across this accidentally today, and its sheer genius leaves me almost speechless. I first heard "J&H Productions" in the late '80s on a bootleg tape of some of the Kapusta stuff which my friend and bandmate John McClure had received from the great Jim Spake, with whom he had just completed a tour of Europe with Alex Chilton. I wonder whatever became of the famous voice?

Frank Zappa interviewed/DJ-ing on KPFA, Berkeley, 1968

2012-01-19T11:02:00.002Z

This is very interesting and insightful. (Warning: it's in four parts, total running time is around 96 minutes.)

Scenes from London life

2012-01-19T08:00:00.000Z

The Other Worlds of Sun Ra (ABC Radio National)

2012-01-19T07:43:00.001Z

Scenes from London life

2012-01-19T07:23:00.000Z

Sun Ra interview, WBAI New York 196?

2012-01-18T23:22:00.003Z

Standing on the (pork) shoulders of giants

2012-01-18T21:30:00.003Z

Here is yet another reason why Memphis is the undisputed center of the universe. Payne's Bar-B-Q: there's nothing like it on the planet, and you can't beat it with a stick!

God's rhythm section

2012-01-18T20:29:00.003Z

Call me a curmudgeon, but as a rule I don't like songs with titles consisting solely of a person's entire name. One obvious exception is "David Watts," and I'm also prepared to cut "Eleanor Rigby" some slack on alternate Thursdays. But in general, I think there is a tendency for the name to serve as a sort of crutch for lazy rhymes, or as a convenient get-out-of-jail card for "moon in June" couplets. This song by Alasko-Memphibians Deering and Down suffers somewhat from the same tendency, but Lahna Deering's got a very engaging and alluring voice, Neil Down's slide work sounds great, and best of all, featured prominently in the film are my long-time friends and musical co-conspirators John McClure and Kurt Ruleman on bass and drums, respectively. I have maximum respect for these men, and it is always an honor to play with such a great rhythm section. I only wish the opportunity arose more often. Anyway, I should probably lighten up a bit. This is good, clean fun.

(Unexpected) scenes from London life

2012-01-16T14:03:00.000Z

Charlie Watts

2012-01-09T18:00:00.004Z

One of the really interesting things about living in London is the seemingly endless potential it offers for running into or sighting famous people, some of whom are even interesting. When I first moved here, it seemed like I saw Bob Geldof every month or so, no matter where I went. I remember being surprised at seeing Tracy Emin a few years back walking down the street in The City (London's financial district), smiling about something. She'd probably just been to see her accountant. While I was hanging around waiting for the start of the Spatial AKA gig at the Barbican in November, I looked up to see Gary Oldman standing two feet in front of me, scanning the room for the people he was meant to be meeting. And then there was my up close and personal encounter with Sting.

However, the best by far occurred last summer. It was a nice day and I was walking to a meeting with one of my colleagues, to whom I'll henceforth refer to as "X." We were walking down Bond Street, just approaching the really swank run of jewellery shops. Looking ahead up the pavement 100 feet or so, I caught sight of a small figure in a powder blue blazer, his face mostly obscured by the pedestrians oscillating between us. I could just make out a spiky bit of white hair and one cheekbone. The cheekbone was pretty much the only thing I needed to identify the great Charlie Watts, who had apparently just emerged from spending some not inconsiderable amount of money with a purveyor of fine jewellery, who was now standing next to him chatting while Charlie waited for a car to collect him.

Seeing Charlie in itself was enough, but the anecdote that follows made it better. As we approached him, I whispered to X, "That's Charlie Watts." He seemed not to take note until we had passed Charlie and were 100 feet or so further along. Suddenly he stopped me and asked, "Who did you say that was?" "Charlie Watts." "Really?"

X then proceeded back up the pavement, but by this time Charlie was in his car and rolling away. "That was Charlie Watts?" "Yes." "Who's Charlie Watts?" Exasperated, I replied, "He's the drummer in the f*cking Rolling Stones." "I met Keith Richards once," replied X. "Really?" said I, incredulously. X then told me that in a previous job, he had been in a coffee shop in Noho with some colleagues, when in walked a very drunk Keith Richards, who gravitated towards them, and a short conversation ensued. At some point, someone took a photo, which X said he still had back at the office.

I interjected at one point that it would have been funny if X had claimed to Keith Richards at the time that he thought he was Ronnie Wood. After our meeting, X went off to a lunch appointment, and I went back to the office. Back at my desk, I told my colleagues about seeing Charlie Watts. They asked if X had shared his Rolling Stones close encounter anecdote with me. "Yes," I replied, "he told me about meeting Keith Richards." Almost in chorus, they shouted, "Keith Richards? Is that what he said? Keith Richards? It was Ronnie Wood!" They then produced the photographic evidence, and sure enough, it was Ronnie Wood.

Space is the place

2012-01-08T13:19:00.001Z

One of the highlights of my 2011 was seeing Spatial AKA at The Barbican back in November. I'd seen them before, but this performance was more intense and darker in tone, with even more interesting visual content this time around. The version of "Frownland" alone was worth the price of admission. I could happily see them every day. This footage was shot in the foyer of the venue, where the band continued to take the audience ever further into space.

What's another year?

2012-01-03T11:15:00.004Z

Happy New Year, everybody. I hope it brings everything you wish for, and more. Times are very tough though, and I fear it may be another difficult year for many. My personal approach is to focus on the attainable, and to that end my only real resolution is to try to create as much recorded sound as possible in the year ahead. I've got lots of ideas for montages, "sound sculpture" and more conventional music, and I hope to do more remote collaboration with the ever-wonderful Ms. Linda Heck, among others. Hell, the world may well end in 2012, but at least we can enjoy ourselves on the way out.

In the meantime, here are some recent works, all recorded on Garageband for iPad.

First up, "Safari de France" - it occurred to me recently that Kraftwerk's epic "Tour de France" is really a surf song in disguise, so I have made it so.

Safari de France by Jimi Inc.

This sent me down a German music rabbithole, culminating in a tribute to the beloved Trio. Apologies to them, as well as to the John Lennon estate.

Vorsprung durch Imagination by Jimi Inc.

This piece incorporates the excellent "Bloom" app, guitar loops, radio emissions from Saturn, and a treated snippet of "Third Stone from the Sun."

Adrift by Jimi Inc.

Lastly, a montage that makes me giggle, incorporating Memphis radio legend George Klein and a bunch of other familiar voices.

The Sound of Fun Surrounds You by Jimi Inc.

My first experiment with the iPad, this is a theme song to a non-existent detective drama.

Jimi Inc. - Inspector Sands by Jimi Inc.

Not quite sure what this is.

Jimi Inc. - 8-face by Jimi Inc.

An instrumental, to which I later added vocals.

Jimi Inc. - Move On by Jimi Inc.

Jimi Inc. - Move On (vocals) by Jimi Inc.

Where'd you get that awesome bass?

2011-11-20T14:50:00.003Z

One of my neighbors is a very gifted bass player named Steve Watts. He's got a lot of interesting anecdotes about people he's played with, but he doesn't blog (to my knowledge), so I'm going to take the liberty of recounting one of them here. Some time back, he was referred to do a gig with a female singer-songwriter he'd never heard of. (I would include her name here, but that would possibly ruin the punchline.)

So, she gets in touch a few days before the gig to arrange a rehearsal. She gives him her address, which is in Holland Park (an area associated with mega-stars of various descriptions), which he finds odd, given that he's never heard of her. Not many up-and-coming, but still obscure, artists live in that sort of hood. He asks about parking, because he'll probably have to drive, given the difficulties of carrying an upright bass on public transport. She tells him not to worry about bringing an upright, because she has one at home. This is also a bit of unexpected information.

On the appointed day, he turns up at an amazing home in Holland Park, meets the singer, and they head into the rehearsal studio. In the corner is a beautiful and obviously very expensive upright bass. He says, "Do you mind if I ask the story behind this bass?" She says, "It belongs to my husband," and then shouts up the stairs, "Harry, come say hello!" Footsteps are heard on wooden stairs, and then in walks the man himself...

Scenes from London life

2011-11-20T14:44:00.001Z

Today's London weather report

2011-11-20T14:36:00.000Z

Guided to Love

2011-11-19T17:10:00.009Z

When I wrote a post two years ago (!) on the amazing night in 2005 which I spent in the company of some Stax legends at the Barbican in London, I neglected one part of the story, because I couldn't work out how to make it relevant. But thanks to the power of YouTube, I now can. Between sets that night, Jim Spake and I ventured out the side doors from the dressing room, just to look at the room and the crowd, because backstage at the Barbican is basically hermetically sealed off from the stage, apart from a pair of doors at the back of the stage which, that night, were only for artists or technicians entering or leaving the stage. So, we'd been standing there at the right of the stage for a couple of minutes, when I noticed charging toward me, at great speed, a shock of red hair in a tie-dye t-shirt which I immediately recognised as one Vanessa Robertson from Memphis - someone I hadn't seen in at least 10 years. She embraced me and gave me a big kiss on the cheek. I was almost speechless - keep in mind that this was before Facebook, back in the days when people just lost track of one another. I asked the obvious question, and she explained that she now lived in London, having met her husband (the lovely Gavin) on a Guided by Voices web community. I had dinner with them a few weeks back, and they are lovely people, and a lovely couple. See for yourself here, at around 7:09 to 7:13 where you can see them smiling and bouncing around in the background. And in "Smothered in Hugs" in the clip which follows, Bob Pollard can be heard shouting out "V" to Vanessa. 1,400 songs and at least one happy marriage - that's a great legacy, Bob! (FYI/FWIW, this very amusing and insightful interview was done only a week after the band played Memphis with The Grifters in 1994, a gig I remember seeing advertised at the time, but was unable to attend for some long-forgotten reason. Vanessa made it to that gig, and the rest is history, I guess.)

Jelly Donuts

2011-11-19T16:40:00.004Z

I have regrettably ignored this blog for some time, which means that I have a backlog of anecdotes, superfluous insights, and other weirdness to clear. So, first, a childhood memory. I came across this oddity on the web some time ago, and captured it for my own enjoyment. It is the 1970s Memphis morning radio legend, Rick Dees, along with his largely self-generated Cast of Idiots on WHBQ in 1976, in an infamous segment featuring Jerry Lee Lewis and Dees' version of (the then still living) Elvis. As a religious daily listener, I remember hearing this live when it aired, so it holds fond memories for me, despite its cruelty. Following his death and subsequent near-canonization, it's hard to recall that during his physical decline, Elvis was the butt of widespread derision in Memphis, with numerous anecdotal tales circulating about The King's minions making monstrous to-go orders at local Memphis eateries (this is where the jelly donuts reference comes from), as well as some suspicious trips to the hospital for ailments like "spider bite." Here is Dees at the top of his art, laying it on with a trowel. A few months later, the joke would be over.

Jelly Donuts by Jimi Inc.

NRBQ meets Connie Chung

2011-10-02T00:44:00.000+01:00

Get Rhythm

2011-10-02T00:39:00.001+01:00

Who Are Parents?

2011-10-01T00:28:00.002+01:00

If you love The Shaggs as much as I do, you'll appreciate this, but it isn't particularly easy listening, by any means.

Let's get all domestic, and shit

2011-09-30T23:41:00.001+01:00

There Was a Light

2011-09-26T10:40:00.001+01:00

Soulsville Gateway

2011-09-25T15:05:00.007+01:00

On my trip to the States in August, I had a very fruitful day out taking photos in some of Memphis' darker and more distressed corners. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the light lent itself to getting some good results. These were taken in the "Soulsville Gateway" on South Bellevue, where portraits of Memphis music legends adorn both sides of an underpass below the two Frisco railway trestles. The whole undertaking was a wonderful thought, though best experienced on foot - probably not a choice many make in a town so reliant upon the automobile.

To All Who Wander

2011-09-25T14:25:00.003+01:00

On my recent trip back to Mempho in mid-August, not only did I get to play a "power trio" show with Linda Heck and Kurt Ruleman (bassist extraordinaire John McClure was otherwise engaged with Death Week gigs) at the Escape Alley venue, which is child-friendly, so my kids could come and see dad grimace and make awful noises, I also got to spend a day with Linda recording a demo of this great new song. It was all very experimental, using GarageBand on Mac, and we had no end of technical difficulties, but it was good fun, and I like the result, ragged and raucous. Song, vocal, acoustic guitar, engineering and production by Linda Heck. Electric guitars, bass, drums, shaker, pillow, coffee can by Jimi Inc.

To All Who Wander by Linda Heck

A first experiment with GarageBand on the iPad

2011-09-25T13:44:00.000+01:00

Inspector Sands by Jimi Inc.

Where's The Stage?

2011-07-30T23:01:00.003+01:00

My early '80s shitabilly band, Kings of the Western Bop, once opened for Eugene Chadbourne's Shockabilly, on an inauspicious Sunday night at the Antenna Club in 1983, or thereabouts. There were approximately 20 people in the audience, comprised mostly of our band and its pathetic group of followers. I had become aware of Chadbourne's brilliant solo guitar work a couple of years earlier, and the idea that he and his collaborators would bother to come to a backwater like Memphis to play to an uncomprehending audience, would have been much easier to process if the hundreds of listeners which the music deserved had materialized at the time. They were only off by ten years, give or take.

Memphis Psychosis

2011-07-21T18:09:00.000+01:00

Memphis

2011-07-21T17:38:00.001+01:00

Scenes from London life

2011-07-21T17:36:00.001+01:00

Clowns on the loose

2011-07-16T17:27:00.002+01:00

Memphis' Luv Clowns (Alex Greene [Big Ass Truck, Reigning Sound] - keyboards, Doug Easley [possibly needs no introduction] - drum, Tim Prudhomme - guitar, Harlan T. Bobo - bass) crash a childrens' parade on Beale Street and receive the bum's rush from police outside the FedEx Forum. It's tough being a clown, even a clown trying to spread luv.

It Came From Memphis

2011-07-14T17:59:00.002+01:00

Via Linda Heck comes this interesting relic of the time, namely Robert Gordon's February 1995 book-signing/reading at Burke's Books, just down the road from where we both lived at the time. Shot by Memphibian Bob Angst, this peculiar document includes a very entertaining section of the opening chapter of Robert's landmark work, "It Came From Memphis," as well as a cavalcade of familiar faces: the seemingly omnipresent (in those days) Cordell Jackson, accompanied by one of her stable of "artists," Jones Rutledge, the lovely Gina Barker, the lovely Martha Green, the lovely Linda Heck (very briefly), and some other people I recognize but never knew and couldn't name. "If aerial photographs could reveal energy the way infrared photographs reveal heat, Memphis would be surrounded by vectors pointing toward it: 'this is the place.'" Right on, Bob!

The timeless rituals of summer

2011-07-14T11:44:00.002+01:00

They seem to get better with each passing year. Highlights from Carter's Steam Fair 2011, Belair Park:

The Wall of Death

Swings of Death

Professor Voltini and Madam Electra

Blue Spark

2011-07-14T11:11:00.004+01:00

I was sitting in the corner grumbling the other day while my daughters watched some execrable Disney sitcom starring Selena Gomez, when I saw, much to my horror, the great John Doe appear in a cameo role. Painful as this was, it started me thinking again about X, a band I loved back in the day, particularly this album, and particularly this song. The structure is odd, but infectious, and the filmic lyrics show why this band possessed much more sophistication and substance than many of its contemporaries. And these eerie harmonies remain pretty much unmatched.

Scenes from London life

2011-07-06T12:41:00.000+01:00

Everybody Here Wants You

2011-07-02T17:43:00.006+01:00

Sixteen years ago this week I arrived in London to begin a life here, which now encompasses one-third of my time on this planet. A little under two years later, Jeff Buckley moved to Memphis on the recommendation of his friends The Grifters, a band I had known and worked with occasionally for years. He lived on the street I had last lived on, knew a lot of people I was friends with, played solo downtown at Barristers (a venue I had booked the first gig in five or six years earlier), and was set to begin a new album at Easley - McCain Studios (a place and people I knew well) the day after he unwisely chose to take a dip in the Wolf River.

So, beyond the obvious power of his creative talent, I guess I have always had an interest in him by virtue of a sense of connection, all of which centers on Memphis. Recently, I posted a great live version of "Lover, You Should Have Come Over" to Facebook, which elicited a response from an American woman who lives nearby, whose kids have gone to school with my own for a number of years. I have never gotten to know her well, but I knew she hailed from New York City, and in the exchange which followed, she revealed that Matt Johnson, drummer with JB (and now with the Wainwright siblings, inter alia) was a close friend and roommate in NYC before he departed for the lengthy Grace world tour. Life is strange and wonderful.

Enjoy this BBC documentary, which features some familiar Memphibian faces.

Scenes from London life

2011-06-02T17:41:00.001+01:00

West Memphis Underground

2011-05-08T00:24:00.002+01:00

Thanks to friend and master drummer Bob Fordyce for this gem. The late, and indescribably great, Jim Dickinson deconstructs the Memphis sound in under three minutes. And to think Memphians typically laugh about West Memphis...

Machine Gun

2011-05-07T23:28:00.005+01:00

Tonight I once again watched, for the first time in 25 years or so, the Joe Boyd film about Jimi Hendrix, and caught sight of this piece of footage of "Band of Gypsys" in their immortal Fillmore East performance of New Year's Eve 1969/70. Back in Memphis, as a boy of 14 or so, I happily spent money earned from my paper route on this extraordinary record, which was part of a run of particularly good luck (I mean taste, obviously) at the record store, which would see me acquire in the space of a couple of months "The Who Live at Leeds," "Houses of the Holy," and the first Van Halen album. All of which I proceeded to listen to obsessively for months, and still listen to regularly today. But the Band of Gypsys record in particular, for me, is full of a unique imagination and energy, and even 41 years on, there is still nothing quite like it. Perhaps that's because it is a tantalizing suggestion of directions Hendrix would have explored had he lived, whereas with the other bands we know where they ended up - mostly in tragedy and disappointment. Hendrix, like this clip, checked out prematurely, with a lot left to say.

April in Memphis

2011-04-24T11:32:00.003+01:00

Just back from a great 10-day visit to Memphis, encompassing a lot of good food, family, friends, a bit of final studio work on the Linda Heck album, and a very enjoyable show at Murphy's, across from the once mighty Antenna Club - now occupied by a photography studio.

Chris Davis of the Memphis Flyer gave us some nice coverage, which elicited some interesting geek feedback when I posted it to Twitter. Here are a few of what felt (to me) like highlights of the show, though it's important to note that we had no rehearsal. (Poor Kurt had never even heard half the songs in the first set, some of which dated back to the earliest period of Linda Heck and The Train Wreck. It's a testament to his musicianship that no one in the audience would have been any the wiser if we hadn't said something in his defence - not that he needed defending. He and John are the dream rhythm section.) These four songs are from the new project, hopefully coming to a pair of ears near you sometime soon. Extra special thanks to Doug Easley and Davis McCain for the fine guitars and amp.

Apples and Oranges

2011-03-26T00:31:00.002Z

No wonder poor Syd decided this life was not for him and withdrew. Seems like a perfectly sane course of action to me, particularly if the alternative is ending up like Dick Clark.

XXXXX

2011-03-15T21:46:00.003Z

I lived in Japan for 2.5 years, and have visited it many times since for work and pleasure, and have pretty much nothing but fond memories of the country and its people. For all the things that my gaijin friends and I might have found worthy of light-hearted satire and derision over the years, the simple and undeniable truth is that, in most ways, it is a safer, more civilized, more egalitarian, and better organized society than almost any Western country could ever claim to be.

This achievement is not without its costs, and I can't honestly say that I would like to be Japanese if reincarnation were on the table, such are (in my view) the personal costs of membership in a society historically geared towards conformity and utilitarianism. Still, when I think back on the earnestness, affection and generosity shown to me during my time in the country, I can only feel an intense sense of distress and sadness at recent events, which increasingly beggar belief.

The analysis of the roots of this catastrophe is yet to be written: a rotten, complacent political gerontocracy; the serial mendacity of TEPCO; the excessive concentration of economic activity and population in the Kanto region; the failure to diversify energy resources; whatever other horrific revelations may follow. The Western media will arrive at some conclusion in the coming days, and it will probably be something very far from the truth on the ground.

可哀想な日本.

O, How She Dances

2011-03-15T10:39:00.005Z

"Yes, friends, he eats them alive!" I stumbled across this delight not long ago - a staple of many Panther Burns shows down the years, presumably inspired by Jim Dickinson's treatment on his trailblazing "Dixie Fried" album. In my previous post on Panther Burns, I made a joke about the huge number of eclectic members the band has had in its history, and this video provides an interesting example. On drums, Jack Yarber, a.k.a. Jack O of the Oblivians (and various others, though I first knew him as a member of Rin Tin Horn in 1987 or so), and on bass, Scott Bomar, member of surf-rock group Impala, The Bo-Keys, producer and all-round Memphis music exponent.

A Love Letter to Alex Chilton

2011-03-14T11:02:00.003Z

This recently came to my attention, once again through the magic of Facebook. The 9th Ward Marching Band delivers a lovingly rendered version of "The Letter."

Brian Eno Interview from KPFA, February, 1980

2011-03-14T09:35:00.000Z

Captain Memphis meets The Klitz

2011-03-13T18:22:00.003Z

This gem turned up on Facebook last week, and it was the first time I had seen it, though I knew about its existence. Here we find Jim Dickinson, in the guise of "Captain Memphis," recording The Klitz, "sister band" of Panther Burns and The Scruffs (Dave Branyan is name-checked at one point) at Phillips Recording in Memphis in 1979. I never saw The Klitz play, which may be something of a blessing, and I have never heard any of the recordings from these sessions, which still remain unreleased as far as I know. The scenes at the pre-restoration Orpheum, including J.D. playing "Green Onions" on the organ as a Phantom-esque character, are priceless. Producer/director Charlie Raiteri was a local TV news reporter who had the vision to document what must have been a very threatening and strange local music underground in such a conservative town. In retrospect, it all seems so tame, but in 1979 this was serious bidness.

Frippertronics

2011-02-19T23:35:00.002Z

Another example of a discovery on my early musical journeys which left me transformed forever.

R.I.P. Don Kirshner

2011-01-18T21:30:00.004Z

As a kid in the late 1960s and 1970s, I didn't appreciate all that Don Kirshner had done for the pop music that I loved. Of course I loved The Monkees and The Archies, and later in life I would come to discover the history of the Brill Building and the amazing artists it once housed. Eventually, I would come to see how it all fit together. Yet, back when I was starting to explore music on my own, Don Kirshner was just this funny-looking guy with bad hair and an incredibly strong New York accent, who happened to host a show which I got to watch on weekends during the summer holidays. I loved it, and it challenged me, but I didn't appreciate at the time just how special the show was. The performances were usually live, sometimes of questionable quality and sometimes unspeakably great. They were always real and honest. This, along with Burt Sugarman's equally amazing "Midnight Special," left an indelible mark on my mind, and both were arguably, to some extent, the precursors of both David Sanborn's lamentably short-lived "Night Music" and Jools Holland's long-running "Later."

Here's one example of what made "Don Kirshner's Rock Concert" so special - The Steve Miller Band perform a new, unrecorded song, called "Fly Like an Eagle." How many bands in these days of industrialised music would be allowed, encouraged even, to play a fairly rough version of an unknown song for six minutes on a gig set to be aired on national TV? And what producer in his right mind would have left it in the final cut for broadcast?

I think one of the reasons for the success of "Rock Concert" was its ability to recreate the atmosphere of a large venue gig, on a similar scale to the real thing. For the kids in the hinterlands of rural America, it must have been astonishing to switch on the TV and find themselves in the midst of a raucous Black Sabbath arena gig, which they could probably have never managed to get to in reality.

To his credit, Don Kirshner was not shy about going against the grain. If you can feature heavy rock acts that fill arenas across the country, why would you expend valuable airtime on uncommercial, heretical freaks like the New York Dolls? Because artistically it's the right thing to do, and it makes commercial sense in the long run, that's why. How many frustrated, misunderstood rockers in the middle of nowhere suddenly found new courage in the wake of seeing this?

Similarly, with the likes of REO Speedwagon, Journey, and Styx in the ascendant, Kirshner gave the Ramones 10 minutes of exposure in 1977. Decidedly not consensus-led thinking.

Goodbye, Don Kirshner, and thank you.

Scenes from London life

2011-01-17T22:17:00.000Z

The London Nobody Knows

2011-01-17T21:26:00.003Z

Summer in the City

2011-01-17T20:58:00.002Z

Amazing footage of 1950s London, shot from the back of a car and apparently intended for use as background footage for driving scenes in films. Via the Huntley Film Archives.

One of These Days

2011-01-17T15:01:00.000Z

Blues in the key of W

2011-01-05T18:37:00.003Z

Props to the wonderful Linda Heck for pointing me to this contemplation of sound from 1966 - 67: a reading by John Cage, Rahsaan Roland Kirk in and around London, including at Ronnie Scott's, and pianist David Tudor, filmed by documentary director Dick Fontaine. Some excellent wacked-out musique concrete and retro electronica is interspersed, as well as a fine performance by Roland Kirk of "Three for the Festival" and an incendiary excerpt from a version of "Rip, Rig & Panic," the title song from his greatest album, the studio version of which follows part three.

The Last Living Rose

2011-01-05T16:15:00.001Z

Night Life

2011-01-03T20:10:00.003Z

I grew up privileged to hear all sorts of music, and my dad was a huge Ray Price fan when I was a small boy. On one very memorable occasion, he returned from a Ray Price gig at the legendary/notorious Panther Hall Ballroom in Fort Worth, Texas, with an autograph from Ray, dedicated to me. Though I was only about five at the time, I was hugely impressed, and it's a moment I've never forgotten. This is a song I could listen to on infinite repeat. Ray gives it up completely on this number, penned by a then-unknown "boy down in Texas way" (Willie Nelson), with some of the most arresting pedal steel playing in the history of music. "Knockin' on your record player," indeed.

Funky New Year

2011-01-03T14:59:00.004Z

I had the pleasure of seeing the Art Ensemble of Chicago twice in London, a number of years ago. Neither show featured Joseph Jarman, who had already become a Buddhist monk, and in the second show, Roscoe Mitchell was replaced by a tenor/soprano player, I believe due to ill health. Both shows were amazing, but it would have been nice to have caught them a bit earlier, as an intact unit with a much more elaborate set-up. This version of "Funky AECO" cuts off abruptly, but the footage and performance are outstanding. It seems as though this piece always produced surprises when played live, such as the Japanese recording where Joseph Jarman's sopranino sax squares off against Roscoe Mitchell's bass sax (also seen here). Their sense of abandon and discovery in revisiting their own repertoire was a unique and beautiful thing, and something I wish more musicians had some sense of. If this is your sort of scene, then stick around for the three-part documentary which follows.

Goodbye 2010, and good riddance, mostly

2010-12-31T16:48:00.004Z

One of the few really outstandingly positive things in my year was regrouping with old friends on New Year's Day in Memphis to play some music for the first time in 16 years or so. It far surpassed even my wildest expectations. And, as an unforeseen bonus, later in the year I managed to get back to Memphis for some studio work with the unspeakably awesome Linda Heck and Doug Easley. I only hope that 2011 may bring me some similarly satisfying moments. And bring you whatever you are missing in life as well... Happy New Year!

Merle does Marty

2010-12-28T14:23:00.004Z

As a small child there was a lot of music in the house, a somewhat baffling mixture of Beatles, Nat King Cole, Andy Williams, soundtracks from various Broadway shows, and a lot of Ray Price and Merle Haggard. All this probably accounts for my impatience at spending too long with any one genre. Merle's certainly one of the more unique voices in country music history, though I've always heard a lot of Lefty Frizzell in his timbre and phrasing. This remarkable video clip reveals his immense talent as a mimic (this is the live album segment alluded to by Ralph Emery). Marty Robbins' expression at hearing himself done so flawlessly is a joy to behold.

Christmas scenes from London life

2010-12-28T14:21:00.000Z

So much for "Ebony and Ivory"

2010-12-21T14:23:00.003Z

BBC Radio 4 recently ran a great documentary (sadly no longer available) on TONTO and its creators, the special sauce behind Stevie Wonder's spate of classic albums in the early 70's. One sad revelation in it was that Stevie underwent a kind of personality change as the result of a head injury (which would probably explain a lot of his desultory later output), and this, coupled with the strained race relations of the time, led him and his handlers to conclude that the "white boys" behind the scenes deserved neither recognition nor royalties. So much for "Ebony and Ivory."

Scenes from London life

2010-12-21T14:10:00.000Z

R.I.P. Captain Beefheart

2010-12-17T23:08:00.003Z

And the greats keep dropping like flies. I didn't discover him nearly as early as perhaps I should/could have, but once I did, a lot of things suddenly made sense, and certainly nothing was ever the same again. Thank you, Don Van Vliet.

Happy Birthday, Warner Brothers

2010-12-17T01:28:00.001Z

Superfly

2010-12-17T00:56:00.000Z

Scenes from London life

2010-12-15T11:15:00.001Z

When the jukebox was king

2010-12-15T11:12:00.000Z

King Cotton

2010-12-12T10:56:00.001Z

Scenes from London life

2010-12-08T13:21:00.000Z

Hold On

2010-12-08T13:06:00.002Z

Can it be 30 years today? I can certainly remember where I was - mopping the kitchen floor at the end of the night at the barftastic Steak and Ale, Poplar Avenue, Memphis. What a devastating moment.

Magicland

2010-12-07T14:06:00.002Z

Innocent memories from that long-forgotten time when local TV stations actually produced programming. WMC TV5 newsman Dick Williams had a weekend side-gig as a magician on this long-running show, seen here in 1983. The furniture commercial was very typical of the time.

Different Trains

2010-11-26T00:42:00.002Z

I just returned from a two-day business trip to Germany, where I always feel compelled to listen to Kraftwerk or "Krautrock" if I have occasion to ride a train. I know that's a painfully embarrassing cliche, but judging from taxi rides I've taken, and the muzak in the hotel I tend to stay in, it seems like the locals prefer 80's rock anthems and the theme from "Dirty Dancing," so I'm happy to let them have their Germany while I keep my own private version to myself. Anyway, I like the incongruity of this mash-up, and the scenes along the railway leaving Victoria are still eerily familiar after all these years.

And now, our Saturday night feature: Carnival of Souls

2010-11-13T19:39:00.002Z

Intermission - time for a tasty snack

2010-11-13T19:05:00.001Z

Rupert Murdoch knows about my secret moustache (and its debauchery)

2010-11-13T17:40:00.004Z

I recently had the good fortune to stumble across this refreshingly insane Glaswegian trio, and I've been having a hard time keeping some of their songs out of my head ever since. This is one, and for the non-British readership, here is the background on the subject matter, if you're interested.

Driveway to Hell

2010-11-13T14:56:00.003Z

So there I was thinking that my hood, East Dulwich, was on the sleepy side and lacking in serious rock-n-roll credentials. Imagine my surprise when I learned a couple of days ago that just two streets away from my humble hovel lies the site where rock legend Bon Scott was found dead in a Renault 5 on February 20, 1980.

The records say that he was found outside No. 67. This is a photo of 67A, which is nicer to look at than 67, but if you insist, check out the surrounding area, with the gargantuan and hideous Dawson's Heights Estate opposite. Surely Bon was not the first, nor the last, to find a dead end on this street.

View Larger Map

I was surprised to find no signs of any fan presence here, though it apparently does attract the odd visitor...

Premature rock deaths often seem to be accompanied by some sort of cruel irony. In this case, Bon Scott died at the tender age of 33, on Overhill Road. It was a long way to the top of Dawson's Hill.

Brian and Dick

2010-11-03T14:52:00.005Z

Props to virtual friend Watson Smith who alerted me to the existence of this gem. Brian Eno interviewed by "Dick Flash" of "Pork Magazine," who looks and sounds suspiciously like Brian Eno with a wig and glasses, and possibly some voice manipulation. The idiot-interviewer-meets-hyperarticulate-artist formula inverted. This is one of the funniest things I have seen in some time.

Scenes from London life

2010-11-01T14:57:00.001Z

Happy Halloween

2010-10-31T00:41:00.001+01:00

Nothing's more frightening than reality!

Scenes from London life

2010-10-14T10:36:00.001+01:00

Love's Labour's Lost

2010-10-14T10:20:00.003+01:00

A very beautiful and sad story, apparently still unresolved two years later. The stat which blows my mind is that only 17% of the music released between 1948 and 1966 is available in digital form.

The Archive from Sean Dunne on Vimeo.

Beach Boys 1967

2010-10-12T13:14:00.002+01:00

They're not everyone's cup of tea, but I have a fair degree of fascination with the Beach Boys' output during the "Pet Sounds" to "Surf's Up" era, so I was very pleased to stumble across this recording of a rehearsal from 1967. If I'm not mistaken, some of this has been issued previously, notably the acapella version of "Their Hearts Were Full of Spring," but hell, here it is and it's free, courtesy of the Internet Archive.

I particularly like the stripped-down version of "God Only Knows," the shambolic version of "The Letter" (recall that a young Alex Chilton apparently hung out with Dennis Wilson and met Charlie Manson in the wake of this song's success), "You're So Good to Me," and those moments where Dennis' harmonies take things to another level. His contribution has been consistently misunderestimated. On the less scintillating end of the spectrum is the gender-inverted version of "Help Me Rhonda," and the strange rendering of "Heroes and Villains," wherein arch twat Mike Love's commentary, presumably inaudible to the others at the time, reveals just what a short-sighted, money-grubbing dickwad he must have been. Not content just to be the least-talented member of one of the greatest musical enterprises of its age, or to have had a hand (however small) in the creation of some of the greatest music ever, he bitches about the lack of commercial success of Brian's recent output. Very revealing, very unappealing.

Before they were famous

2010-09-16T17:39:00.004+01:00

Returning from my second stint in Japan in summer 1990, I made a wrong turn in 1991/1992, enrolling in Memphis State University's graduate program in urban planning. It's a topic I'm still very much interested in, and arguably it's a more pertinent discipline now than ever, but two events convinced me to quit after just one year. The first was a visit to observe a meeting of the Memphis and Shelby County Land Use Control Board, which was dominated by property developers, each of whom recused themselves from cases in which they were conflicted, and all of whom clearly scratched each other's backs in the pursuit of ever-greater urban sprawl. I found it to be a sickening display. The second was an encounter with a student just completing the program, who had quit a job as an engineer with BellSouth and racked up a lot of debt in pursuing the degree, only to find himself facing the prospect of earning less than as a telecom engineer, if he could get a job at all. I decided I would ride out the rest of the year and move on.

Sometime late in that spring semester of 1992, I was walking across campus when I heard a sampled drumbeat in the distance, with a whirling, Middle Eastern shawm-like sound above it. I followed the sound to the front of the student center building, where a P.A. system had been set up, and this group of very enthusiastic young people was dancing around before the sound segued into this very song. I think it was late afternoon on a Friday, and Memphis State then being predominantly a commuting school with lots of kids working part-time jobs to make ends meet, there was only a handful of people around, perhaps 30 or so. Unfortunately, just as the song began to move into high gear, the power died. I and a few of the other onlookers waited around for ten minutes or so, but there was no sign of the power being restored, and the poor band looked very disappointed. I finally decided to cut out. A few months later, watching MTV one night, I worked out who the unfortunate group had been, and I wished that I'd hung on a bit longer, just in case someone found that uncooperative fuse.

An unusual Memphis sunset, New Year's Eve 2007

2010-09-16T16:56:00.001+01:00

Non-textbook Memphibians, volume 2

2010-09-16T16:13:00.003+01:00

Memphis's musical heritage is so rich and varied that inevitably people have to resort to categorization, stereotypes and cliches to try to make some sense of it all. I see it all as one continuum, but I guess some people find it easier to ghetto-ize it as "country," "rockabilly," "soul," "blues," "funk," "trashabilly," "lo-fi shitrock," etc. The term "avant garde" doesn't get bandied about much, because I guess Memphis is seen as having made very little contribution to this arena, at least in the sense of "serious music," but it did give the world one very remarkable and influential character in the shape of Jon Hassell.

Most Memphians have probably never heard of him, and to be fair, he doesn't make much of his affiliation with his home town, yet for all his relative obscurity, his profound influence has been acknowledged by many more familiar musicians. The seminal Eno/Byrne collaboration "My Life in the Bush of Ghosts," which I listened to religiously upon its release, had a tremendous and lasting influence on the direction of electronic music (hello Moby?), and it was initially conceived around Jon Hassell, though he seems to have been rather abruptly written out of the project before it really began - a turn of events which he seems to have been very bitter about for many years. His rich and varied body of work rewards exploration, and he just keeps on going.

A New Morning Will Come

2010-09-16T15:34:00.000+01:00

Non-textbook Memphibians, volume 1

2010-09-14T15:56:00.005+01:00

Living in London for 15 years, I fear that my accent no longer immediately betrays my roots as it once might have. At times I am terrified that I might eventually end up sounding like Loyd Grossman. When someone does pick up on my accent and asks where I am from, I am typically greeted with the "Ah, Elvis-country" response, if, indeed, the person in question knows anything about Memphis at all. It's more rare, but not at all unknown, that the person will be a Stax fan, though if the conversation progresses that far, many people confuse some of the Stax output for Atlantic thanks to the shambolic outcome of the Stax-Atlantic deal. Some people confuse Memphis for Nashville, which leads me to have to explain the rivalry, and Memphis' rightful place as the capital of Mississippi (or, rather, some notional Delta superstate). I have yet to encounter anyone who mentions Martin Luther King's assassination, which always strikes me as odd, given that it seemed to hang over the place so ominously while I was growing up.

I have never had cause to discuss the Kronos Quartet in the context of Memphis, but sure enough, their former cellist, Joan Jeanrenaud, is a Memphibian. I was fortunate enough to see them on a rare (actually, I think, unprecedented) visit to Memphis in 1993 or so, at the Cordova Cellars Vineyard, which I believe her mother owned (perhaps she still does). "Pieces of Africa" was out the previous year, and several pieces from it were played on that beautiful sunny afternoon, including the enchanting "Escalay" by Hamza El Din (if you don't know him, you should). This meditative piece builds in intensity, with a lot of heavy-duty percussive cellistry going on, and in this particular performance, Joan Jeanrenaud managed to pop a string. Everything stopped instantly, and there was an audible collective intake of breath from the audience, who, scattered around the lawn of the vineyard, had been mesmerized up to this point. Speaking purely for myself, I had completely lost myself in the music, and the sudden silence might as well have been an explosion.

Scenes from London life

2010-09-14T15:23:00.002+01:00

So Long, Eric

2010-09-14T14:45:00.006+01:00

Incredible to find something like this on YouTube showing "0 views," but that's what it said when I found it. Anyway, there's been a meme going round on Facebook lately, in which one takes 15 minutes to think of 15 albums which have had a major influence on one's life. They don't qualify as a single album, and I'm not sure they would make the cut even if they were, but the various live recordings from the European tour of this ill-fated Mingus outfit of 1964 were in heavy rotation for me after I discovered them in Japan in 1990 or so. Here we see Johnny Coles in fine form before his collapse onstage in Paris, and Mingus seeming to enjoy himself thoroughly, even when his bass slides away from him at the abortive start of this song, written in honor of Eric Dolphy, who was to depart the band (and later the planet) at the end of the tour. Sadly, this version, like Dolphy's career, is cut short, with the best still yet to come.

Lou, Laurie, and Jakarta Joey

2010-09-14T13:32:00.006+01:00

Someone posted this ludicrous, but highly entertaining, deadpan 1974 interview with Lou Reed on Facebook not long ago, and it reminded me of an anecdote related to me many years ago (1995 is my guess) by Memphibian friend and former musical collaborator, Joseph Pegram, now resident in Jakarta.

Joey, as we all knew him then, had gotten a gig with Hot Monkey (Grifter Scott Taylor's side project, which at that point consisted of Scott, Memphis artist and percussionist David Hall, and Joey. Coincidentally, the first Linda Heck release, "Dig My Own Hole," was on the flip-side of the "Sain" single.) as one of the opening bands for Laurie Anderson at The Knitting Factory in New York City.

The band had already played and were outside getting some fresh air, when Laurie and partner Lou Reed were seen approaching the club. Joey's roommate at the time was an artist and Laurie Anderson fanatic, who wanted to give her one of his very large prints, and he had entrusted Joey with a letter and photo of the print to be hand-delivered to her. Dutifully, Joey made his way back to the dressing room, letter and photo in one hand, beer in the other, to wait until the crowd thinned enough to approach her. Finally his moment came, and he delivered the precious consignment, explaining that he was in the opening act (apparently Laurie Anderson liked the name "Hot Monkey") and that his friend had put him up to approaching her in this way. She listened graciously and patiently, taking it all in.

At one point, Joey turned to see that Lou Reed had walked into the dressing room. Now, Joey was a big Laurie Anderson fan, but did a good job of keeping it cool in her presence, unlike some of the stream of shamelessly fawning hangers-on that had preceded his audience with her. But this was Lou Reed, and I remember Joey saying that he was standing there thinking something along the lines of, "It's Lou Reed, one of my absolute biggest heroes, and now he's walking towards me. I bet he's going to say something amazing."

Lou walked straight up to Joey and said, "Hey, where did you get that beer?"

iSarah

2010-09-07T17:02:00.003+01:00

Here we have a nice short film, shot entirely on an iPhone 3GS, with the exception of three 10-second segments supplied by the festival organizers and required for inclusion. The Memphibian angle here is the music, by Memphis' own Overjoid (Roy Berry of Lucero and artist Terance Brown).

A little bit of f*ckin' fairy dust

2010-09-06T16:14:00.004+01:00

My friend and band mate John McClure somehow came by a compilation tape in the mid 80s which contained this masterpiece (which the uber-awesome Linda Heck pointed me to), as well as some other priceless pieces from Al Kooper's "Kapusta" albums, most notably the Buddy Rich and Barry White outbursts. We used to end up in crippling fits of laughter over these pieces, which, in the pre-internet age, were particularly precious rarities.

Me & (the Italian) Elvis

2010-09-06T15:14:00.003+01:00

My brother recently stumbled across this forgotten gem. July 1989, I was home for a month from my job in Japan, and agreed to help out my friend Roy Barnes in a class film project. This involved getting up early one day and driving out to the Hickory Ridge Mall (at that time the pinnacle of White Flight retailing in Memphis) to interview Columbo, "The Italian Elvis," who worked in a pizzeria in the mall food court. I recall him as a nice guy, fairly unassuming. At one point, apparently not filmed, I asked him about his time in the States. He said he had lived for ten years or so in Houston (I think I recall him saying it was Houston), where he had fallen in love with a woman, gotten married and had a son. "Then one day I come home and she tell me the kid's not mine."

Teddy Bear

2010-09-06T15:05:00.002+01:00

Sometimes you come across something so strange that it just stops you in your tracks and demands that you take notice. Red Sovine's execrable trucker tearjerker, "Teddy Bear," on 8-track, on video. Thank you, Internet.

The Hole

2010-08-23T15:17:00.002+01:00

Stumbled across this peculiar relic on the Internet Archive today. Dizzie Gillespie and George Matthews voice cartoon characters discussing the psychology of nuclear deterrence and the risks of accidental Armageddon. Vintage Cold War stuff, with interesting animation. Diz recounts the making of this Academy Award-winning short in his autobiography, "To Be or Not to Bop."

Scenes from London life

2010-08-22T19:26:00.000+01:00

Abandon

2010-08-22T18:48:00.003+01:00

It's nearly Notting Hill Carnival time again. I haven't been in recent years, and on the occasions when I have gone in the past, I've pretty much avoided the crush of the parade route in favor of some of the peripheral attractions, discovering along the way some old school reggae and dub sound systems with amazing music and a nice atmosphere. One year, however, I did spend some time along the very crowded parade route, and witnessed the following little vignette. I related this anecdote to someone the other day, and they seemed to find it amusing - it certainly amused me at the time, and it was a beautiful example of the little human dramas you can see unfolding around you if you take the time to watch.

I was standing in the crowd along the parade route, and in a lull in the action, I noticed a young couple nearby who were having some sort of disagreement. She was unloading a long stream of something I couldn't hear because of the incredible volume of the music, but it was clearly either a litany of complaints, a torrent of invective, or some combination of the two. He was more or less speechless, occasionally shrugging or holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. Eventually she stopped and turned to face the parade action, ignoring him.

He paused for a moment, and I could see there was something going on behind his eyes. Suddenly he turned, and tip-toed gingerly a few feet away in the sort of exaggerated manner you might expect to see from a masked burglar character in a children's cartoon. When he was ten feet or so away, looking over his shoulder with an expression containing something like a mixture of incredulous satisfaction and residual dread, he smiled when he saw that his absence was still unrecognized, and broke into a trot. By fifty feet away he had melted into the crowd completely, but just as he disappeared, I'm sure I saw him look over his shoulder one last time with a wry smile.