Today I came across a very confusing headline:

"Sugababes rubbish split reports"

Although I have the advantage of knowing what "Sugababes" means (London pop band of the past 10 years), my first (and maybe more) readings of the headline offered various kinds of interpretations. The headline (and the confusion it can cause) is a good example of British tabloid style (see this Language Log post for more examples) which can lead to ambiguity due to a pileup of nouns. In this case, all four words in the headline could be nouns; the trick is to find the verbs. The first possibility I considered started with "Sugababes [are] rubbish..." (a commonly held opinion but surely not that newsworthy) but this one breaks down with "split reports". The next thought was that the article had something to do with the group's trash (e.g. "we provide an investigative look at how this pop group is separating out recyclables"; or "there are conflicting reports about the Sugababes' rubbish"). Environmental stories are all the rage, but this is not the theme of the article either. Also unlikely is some kind of story about a food product ("rubbish split", perhaps something like a banana split where you add whatever ingredients are available?).

As it turns out, the trick is that "rubbish" is the verb here, meaning "to criticize". Thus the Sugababes are responding to reports that they are breaking up with a vigorous rebuttal (possibly to be followed by an actual break-up... only time will tell). The original article can be found here if for some inexplicable reason you are interested in finding out more.

Earlier this summer I made a pilgrimage to the family home, where (as is my custom) I went through quite a few cartons of absolutely essential items I stored for the brief time I would be spending overseas. As the "brief time" is now approaching seven years, I have started re-evaluating the notion of "absolutely essential", discarding or donating many items once considered "absolutely essential" but which have now slipped to just "essential". Such as badly dubbed cassette copies of albums my brother owns (or once owned, perhaps copies themselves), VHS recordings of matches from World Cup 1994 (and way more pro wrestling shows than you might think), kitchen implements that were originally obtained from garage sales (or more likely, salvaged from streetside on "moving day" [the most important day of the year for the discerning scavenger who happens to live in the vicinity of a large university]), assorted food products slightly past their best-by date (and which have somehow escaped the attention of any vermin in the vicinity of Dunce Parents' Manor), ten-year-old batteries that still might have a bit of zap left in them, ... well, you get the idea. In any event, I plowed through quite a few cartons of such treasures, but also managed to find real treasures in their midst. This time there was one truly precious find which I brought back with me and triumphantly presented to Mrs. Dunce....

It's a music video (VHS format) dating back to my high school days. During which, I must admit, I loved me that heavy metal music (And here comes quite a digression indeed). I sneered at anyone who played a "real" guitar (i.e., acoustic guitar), believing that the only true music came from electric guitars (ideally two or more at a time), played by proper metal musicians (in contrast to the pretty boys who were all about fashion and stuff, and didn't play, you know, REAL metal [erm, you could be all about fashion and stuff as long as your metal was real enough, such as Twisted Sister, Stryper {ummmmmm, yeah, I know}, and the like {Really I'm just trying to claim I never liked Giuffria, Motley Crue or Poison}]). Now I had to be careful about my selection of proper heavy metal music, as metal too heavy ran the risk of parental involvement (see for example the unfortunate birthday present from a much-beloved aunt, who made the mistake of giving a gift certificate. Which I quickly spent on Defenders of the Faith by Judas Priest. Which in turn was inspected and parentally confiscated for some unknown reason [and, in turn, un-confiscated at a later date, through a highly risky stealth mission]). But the occasional copy of magazines like Creem and Hit Parader did appear in our house, and it was from these that I learned about which bands were REAL metal and which bands were total posers or worse*. In any event, I brought back a relic of these days and proudly presented it to Mrs. Dunce....

The music video is Hear 'n Aid: The Sessions:

Which I believe I purchased for the full retail price (perhaps $19.99) despite its feeble length of only 30 minutes. Recorded in 1985, it's the Heavy Metal world's answer to "We Are the World" and "Do They Know It's Christmas?", a single entitled "Stars" featuring many of the day's hottest metal musicians (and some less hot... the guys from Rough Cutt and Vanilla Fudge) (and some less metal... Y&T? Journey? Night Ranger? although I guess they ROCKED!! on the song) (and some less real... Derek Smalls & David St. Hubbins of Spinal Tap), to raise money for those poor starving African children (a complete list of the participants appears on the Wikipedia page [where else?!]). The song begins like a ballad, with teensy-weensy Ronnie James Dio crooning the lyrics "Who cries for the children? I do......" before launching into the full metal power of who-knows-how-many metal guitars crunching away at your heartstrings (and for the record, I do not believe Mr. Dio actually cries for the children). How can I continue to wax lyrical about it, when the music video itself is a mere click away at Youtube. If you haven't seen it, you have no excuse. Don't worry, I'll wait....

HEAR 'N AID: STARS

If you want to analyze the lyrics in more depth (or perhaps have them tattooed on your person) they can be found here (along with a clear indication of exactly who sings what, something that is quite important since they almost all sound the same). It's also rather impressive to see how some of the best guitar solos (by this I mean the ones I thought were the best back in the day) actually appear to be unrelated to the song, but could actually be included in just about any heavy metal song without sounding any worse. The video tape includes not only the song itself, but builds up to it with a "making of" video. Yes, it does look very much like a parody (particularly given the presence of two gentlemen from Spinal Tap) but it's deadly serious. And now it's part of our household!

I am actually kicking myself now for discarding its original sleeve; used copies (ex-rental!) sell for $50 (link if you'd like to buy one).


* My favorite letter-to-the-editor of all time appeared on the pages of one of these magazines. It was quite customary for young fans to write in and explain which bands they liked (and why), and more importantly, which bands they didn't like (and why). Usually in the most anoraky style possible (yes, they could have been me). But the best of all was a dramatic put-down of Kevin DuBrow (frontman of much-regarded Slade rip-off band Quiet Riot) who (it was alleged) "couldn't kick ass if he wore butt-seeking boots" (a passage which sadly receives zero hits on Google [until now]).

Last weekend we made a visit to Leiden, another very pleasant stop in the Lowlands (I have to mention the fabulous restaurant Mrs. Dunce took me to for my birthday, Restaurant Wessels. We arrived at 8pm and were the last party seated, and the food was just fantastic. I wish I had a little more time to write about it). A few discreetly placed signs indicate to the especially observant visitor that Rembrandt may have some connection to Leiden (alternatively, the whole town shouts REMBRANDT! REMBRANDT! REMBRANDT! until it's blue in the face). We did stop by a few locations on the Rembrandt trail, but spent a lot of our time wondering "Just who is the nameless singer?". You see, the entrance to our hotel room was decorated with a sort of shrine to the Zangeres Zonder Naam made up of assorted album covers and a few baubles:


(Google Images also gives a good impression of the album covers on display, minus the baubles, here). I was quite curious about the Zangeres, who'd obviously been highly prolific over many years, but who was totally unfamiliar to me. No surprise that a search turned up zillions of sites, almost all of them in Dutch.

Perhaps the curious visitor's first stop should be the Zangeres's official website She might have departed this earth but her songs live on. Prepare to be dazzled (and see if you recognize the song). Some additional clips are linked from a (Dutch) article about "twelve great stories from Leiden" (article HERE): Vaderlief, Kinderogen, Costa del Sol, Mexico. The Zangeres specialized in over-the-top sentimentality, songs of a type known as smartlap, "a simple, sentimental song, sang in Dutch, where melancholy, homesickness and deeply-rooted sorrow are the central themes. The term originates from 'stoplap', a cliché which lost its strength., and 'smart' which means 'grief' (quotes taken from this informative article), and also levenslied (literally "life songs", which are like the smartlappen but not necessarily sad).

A bit more biographical information (in Dutch) is available back at her official website HERE. Here's a summary: born in 1919 (named Maria "Rietje" Bey), spent years of her childhood abed in hospital before going to work in the wool factory at 14. She was discovered by "talentscout" Johnny Hoes (who wrote many of the songs she performed) in 1957 and took on her stage name. Her first hit (reaching the Dutch top ten) was in 1959, "Ach Vaderlief, Toe Drink Niet Meer" ("Oh dear father, don't drink any more", or something like that). And she kept cranking them out, (all song titles are attempted English translations by me; maybe I do better than Babelfish) The Beggar of Paris (staying in the charts for 7 months in 1961, The Blind Soldier, The Girl from the Street, The Rag-picker of Paris, you get the idea. And she just kept going, occasional doldrums but on through the 1970s. In 1980 there was one of those typical record company situations (I'm glossing over it in this manner so I don't have to decipher the Dutch) which seems to have resulted in the Zangeres no longer receiving any royalties from her previous recordings. She kept on going, until a farewell concert in 1987 (although "best-of" albums continued to be released after that). Coaxed out of retirement she recorded an album in 1993 (proceeds going to charity), and she died in 1998 (a commemorative box set was released; it's unclear from the biographical article whether it actually contained all 550! songs she recorded). Sadly we missed the 2000 exhibition in Leiden's Stedelijk Museum De Lakenhal "Van Rembrandt tot de Zangeres zonder Naam" (From Rembrandt to the Singer Without A Name).

So there you have it, she was a local star!

In the big city, it's quite uncommon to come across someone whistling a cheery tune. So it was quite a surprise this weekend when we were riding on the upper deck of a #253 bus, and happened to hear a very familiar tune not typically associated with London. Someone on the lower deck of the bus was whistling the classic American folk song"Turkey in the Straw"*. When we exited I looked around for someone meeting my mental image of "someone likely to whistle 'Turkey in the Straw'" (perhaps a barefoot rube clad in overhauls [sic] and maybe even a straw hat, perhaps a Civil War veteran, perhaps one of those modern folk revivalists**) but there was no such person in sight. As it turned out, the mystery whistler was the bus driver. Quite a change from the usual surly-driver experience (although he did have a heavy foot on the brakes).

*a tune that is occasionally played by British ice-cream vans for some odd reason.

**The song has moved quite far from the performance style that originally popularized it in the early 19th century: blackface minstrel shows. Thank goodness.

Lately I've been listening to a lot of music on pandora.com. Unlike most online radio stations, it allows users to design their own customized stations, not by explicitly selecting the albums, tracks or artists that are being played, but instead by designating a few favorite bands or songs. Since 2000 they have been working on the Music Genome Project which is a careful analysis of individual songs' musical properties; these musical properties are used to create playlists on Pandora. So if you select a favorite band as a starting point, Pandora will start you off with a song that is representative of that band's musical style, and then will continue playing similar songs on this customized "radio station". Importantly, you have the opportunity to give a thumbs-up or thumbs-down to any song (thumbs-down also fast-forwards to the next song); these ratings serve to fine-tune your preferences (for example, if you give a thumbs-down to every song featuring a saxophone, the number of sax songs will quickly dwindle to nothing. You can also add additional artists or songs to a radio station at any time; "adding" in this way is weighted much more heavily than a mere thumbs-up. It's presented as a great way to learn about new music (serving as a recomendation service: "If you love ______, you may like _____", complete with convenient links to buy tracks through iTunes or CDs through Amazon). I haven't discovered many "new" artists myself. I like this system instead because it does such a good job in general at playing a coherent mix of things that I like (it seems to be a little unpredictable if you choose artists that are extremely diverse).

To give an idea of how this works, I'm starting a new station right now, based on the Japanese psychedelic noise guitar band (my description, anyway) Acid Mothers Temple (hereafter, "AMT"). A little bit outside my normal listening world although I really like what I've heard from them. One cool thing about Pandora is that it also gives an explanation of why songs are being played. The first track, "Suzi Sixteen" (by AMT) is being played "because it features electronica influences, punk influences, the use of experimental sounds, paired vocal harmony and extensive vamping".

2. After that, the next track is "I was no longer his dominant (remix)" by Nurse with Wound (I've never heard of them). The musical description "why is this song playing?" is very similar: "it features electronica influences, punk influences, the use of experimental sounds, extensive vamping and mixed minor & major key tonality". It's not really my thing (a long rambling spoken word sample with minimal electronic background music) so it was a thumbs-down.

3. Next was "UK Theatre" by The Mountaineers (another band I've never heard of). It's a major switch from Nurse with Wound: much more guitar oriented and much less electronic. The description is a little vague: "electronica influences, acoustic rhythm guitars, and many other similarities identified in the music genome project". My previous playlists of various sorts have already identified my proclivity for acoustic rhythm guitars (something I wasn't aware of, although now that I think about it, sure!). Not good enough for a thumbs up, but definite no thumbs-down.

4. "Tears in the Typing Pool" by Broadcast (I have heard of them but can't say much more). Sure enough, the acoustic rhythm guitars stick around, along with paired vocal harmony (back to AMT again), and mixed minor & major key tonality. Another decent song (again not quite worth a thumbs-up); it doesn't seem much like AMT to me.

5. "The Dark, Magical Sea" by Karl Blau. I'd heard Karl Blau before but wasn't especially excited, but this song worked for me. Selected for "mellow rock instrumentation, a subtle use of vocal harmony, a vocal-centric aesthetic, extensive vamping and major key tonality." And there's another prominent feature in my musical preferences according to Pandora, "extensive vamping". I'd fully agree. This one gets a thumbs up.

6. "Sea of Dead", Robert Pollard (from Guided by Voices). I already know this song and I really like it; I wouldn't have drawn a connection from AMT but there it is. It was chosen for "mellow rock instrumentation, meandering melodic phrasing, major key tonality, acoustic rhythm guitars" (as well as "many other similarities identified in the music genome project" [MOSIITMGP]). A quick thumbs-up for sure.

7. "A Fire in the Forest" by David Sylvian. Ordinarily I might be inclined to give David Sylvian a quick thumbs-down without hearing the song but I thought I'd give this one a bit of a chance just for the sake of this test. For the record it's got "repetitive melodic phrasing, extensive vamping, prominent use of synth" + MOSIITMGP. Although I didn't like it so much it wasn't actually bad enough for a thumbs down.

8. "Just Gettin' Old": Kyle Swager (?). Many elements that have featured in the previous songs: "mellow rock instrumentation, mild rhythmic syncopation, vocal-centric aesthetic, major key tonality & acoustic rhythm guitars". But I really didn't like this one at all; it seemed a little too earnest, mellow and acousticy singer-songwritery for my liking. Thumbs down after the second verse.

9. "Daddy's Bare Meat": AMT. Occasionally a different song by the original band(s) will be slipped into the mix, I think to judge how a listener will rate a slightly different musical style by that band. This one is very much like the first, the only addition being "the use of ambient synths". Thumbs up.

10. Oops, it played "UK Theatre" again. I haven't noticed repeats before (and it was played for the same reasons listed above in 3). A quick fast-forward.

11. "Just Touch Them": Circus Devils. This one goes back to experimental sounds (haven't seen those since my thumbs down to #2), plus electronica, acoustic rhythm guitars, vamping & MOSIITMGP. Thumbs up but unfortunately very very short.

12. "Invisible Raincoat": National Eye. Mellow rock instrumentation and a couple of the vocal features that I don't believe I actually care about (subtle use of vocal harmony, vocal-centric aesthetic) (& MOSIITMGP), yet I like this song quite a bit. Lucky 13. "Geometry": Oneida. Ooh, I really like this one (and definitely hadn't heard it before). Subtle vocal harmony again, and yet again the extensive vamping. Plus major key tonality and MOSIITMGP.

14, and where I decided I'd stop keeping track: "Artheroid Vogue": Circus Devils. Another really good song by the band from #11. Yet again vocal features play a prominent role: subtle use of vocal harmony, vocal-centric aesthetic, plus mellow rock instrumentation, extensive vamping & MOSIITMGP.

So of the 11 unique tracks besides those by AMT, I gave thumbs-up to 6 (7 if you count "With Candy" by the Lilys which is playing now), no rating ("OK") to 4, and thumbs down to only 2. I'd call that a very good level of performance. A couple of notes: in order to continue listening to music beyond the first few tracks, you need to register an email address as a user (US zip code needed). I've been using the free service but there is a pay option (I didn't bother to see what this includes). The service also limits the number of tracks you can fast-forward ("our music licenses force us to limit the number of songs you may skip each hour"); if you reach that point you have to sit through even the thumbs-down songs for a while ("Sit back and enjoy the music for now").

Subsequent edit: It does very badly at making playlists from extremely diverse artists; it seems to take frequency/popularity into account when it's not able to reconcile very different styles. For example I tried to create a radio station from Leadbelly, Kylie Minogue and Anthrax. It didn't find some musical abomination with elements of all three, but instead started out playing only very Kylie-like songs (radio friendly, energetic pop). I had to give a string of thumbs-down ratings before I heard anything else. Then it was all Anthrax-like songs (metal maniacs one and all); again in order to get anything else I had to give a load of thumbs-downs. Finally it played a series of songs quite similar to Leadbelly (but of course not similar to the others). This also shows that enough thumbs-down raings can counteract an initial "bad choice" that you don't really like.

This blog is a year-in-review-free zone because I've grown so bored of year-in-review articles and programs everywhere I look. I suppose they serve a purpose if you've forgotten who had the biggest hit in January, whether Tom Cruise did anything interesting this year, how that wacky German election turned out once all was said and done, or if the official first baby born in 2005 has suffered as a result of all the publicity. All quite useful if you spend your New Year's Eve making a highly-detailed timeline of the year just finished.

As usual, the Dunces had fairly limited plans for New Year's Eve (not including highly-detailed timelines, so we are not eligible for any timeline prizes [should any such prizes be on offer]). Previous New Year celebrations in the Dunce household have included a small gathering with another couple (who were unfortunately going through some relationship stresses; tears preceded the arrival of the new year by at least an hour. Perhaps the tears signified western Europe's new year), and two years ago it was just the two of us hanging around the lounge (plus a load of home-made Cajun food). Last year we joined a gathering of Folks in the early evening for some food, drink and socializing, before heading off to a (rather dire) north London pub featuring music by the Redlands Palomino Co (sadly they were not the headlining act). But we left fairly early, thanks to my nasty cough which, as it turns out has chased me on and off all year (that's NOT a year-in-review comment, just a whinge).

This year we decided to join the Folks again in the early evening hours. Most of the Folks had obtained tickets to the sold-out Tapestry club (hosts of the acclaimed Tapestry Goes West festival) at the St. Aloyisius Social Club in north London, but not us. Perhaps it was lack of planning (tickets were not sold at the most convenient locations, although we could have asked any of a number of people to get them for us), perhaps it was a total lack of enthusiasm for the musical act (early-70s style hard rock, all of their songs sounded like Black Sabbath songs that weren't quite good enough to make it onto their albums). Instead we were somewhat planning to visit a work colleague's New Year gathering, or perhaps wander into our Local, or the most likely but unspoken plan: when the rest of the Folks headed down to Tapestry in the 9-10pm hour, we would sneak back home and see in the new year there with the cat and the couch. But instead, we were drawn along into the Tapestry excitement as the evening progressed. Nearly everyone there was planning to go, and a spare ticket miraculously appeared at a crucial moment. So we joined the gang on the bus, headed south by southwest (ok, more like west by southwest but I couldn't resist), destination: St. Aloyisius Social Club. As the two of us only had one ticket between us, I considered various possibilities for getting in (sneaking in through the chimney, hiding under Mrs. Dunce's coat like a pantomime horse, barging in by overpowering the door staff, bribery, fast talking, etc.), or whether I would be sent home with my tail between my legs (in which case, most likely celebrating the turn of the new year from the top deck of the 253 bus, probably in the shadow of Holloway Prison).

But as we gathered at the door, another ticket materialized (I believe belonging to one of the advance party who had entered by other means [whether fair or foul I do not know]) and entry was assured. The advance party had colonized one of the tables near the bar, which is where we spent most of the next few hours. Crucially, the band (and DJ) were in the adjacent room, so we were able to socialize without shouting our throats raw. The party raged on, but eventually the Dunces (and the Autocrat) began to flag, and made our way to a nearby bus stop (not the nearest, mind you, as I decided to hurry up the street instead of down it, mistaking a "children crossing" sign in the distance for a bus stop [time to get my eyes checked, perhaps]). A couple of hours after midnight on New Year is not the most pleasant time to be riding a bus. Throngs of revelers trying to crowd onto it, including plenty of drunk, aggressive groups trying to stir up trouble with other similarly drunk and aggressive groups; confused travelers trying to get to distant parts of London on whatever buses were available; and those simply trying to keep their eyes open until their stop. As usual we were traveling by the upper deck, so we were blissfully unaware of the massive crush downstairs (no one is supposed to stand on the upper deck, so it's usually the least-crowded part of a double-decker bus). I was a bit worried about fighting my way out (one of my greatest dislikes is working my way through a crowd of people) but figured we had a little longer to wait. As it turned out, a lot longer. Just across Holloway Road (i.e., just a few minutes out of the shadow of Holloway Prison), as we passed a crowded bus stop without stopping (this sometimes happens when a bus is full, much to the dismay of anyone waiting) the driver honked the horn and slammed on the brakes, and a number of passengers on the lower deck did a bit of screaming. What a delight, our bus had apparently hit someone. We were seated on the wrong side of the bus to see anything, so we just waited as the bus mostly emptied and people milled around. Others crowded around the windows of the upper deck to see what was going on. It was apparently difficult to figure out what was going on, thanks to all the additional staggeringly drunk people around the scene (sample exchange: "Oh no!! He just got up and then fell down again". "No, that's someone else. The person who got hit is over there."). Surprisingly, after a few minutes the bus resumed its journey (apparently before any police or ambulances arrived [I guess they were all dealing with stabbings and drunken violence]). By the time it reached our stop, indeed it was so full that we had to fight our way to the exit (I pity the drivers who had to deal with this sort of fun all night). Fortunately Mrs. Dunce led the way, and I followed in her wake (she is quite good at this, and seems somehow to inspire a minimum of aggressive responses when she fights through a crowd of people). It was just a short walk around the corner and home (where the cat had had her own New Year's celebration, pulling lights and baubles off the Christmas tree and batting them around the house). And then it was off to bed, for the first fitful sleep of the new year.

Last night Opal Dunce and I had the opportunity to travel to west London to see a gig¹ at one of our favorite venues: Bush Hall (venue site)². One of the added benefits to visiting the area is an excellent restaurant, Abu Zaad. It's a Syrian restaurant, apparently the only one in London. Back in 2002 when the "Axis of Evil" was extended to also include Cuba, Syria and Libya (BBC article), we saw a report on Channel Four News in which a reporter visited "the only Syrian restaurant in London" to get comments from the newly-appointed ambassadors of Evil. We were interested, not only in brazenly benefiting the spread of evil through capitalism, but also in eating the delicious meals that fill the tummies of evil people. When we finally went, we didn't see much evil, just quite a few local people (plus your occasional table of BBC employees) and our own table full of, well I am getting ahead of myself.

Abu Zaad is especially well-reviewed on london-eating.co.uk (9/10 on food, 8/10 on service, 8/10 on atmosphere, 8.8/10 on value). I would also include a link to a Time Out review but they only give a teaser for free: "A local restaurant for local people, and in Shepherd’s Bush that means Sudanese, Levantines, more Sudanese, westerners... and they all seem to be on first-name terms with the staff. Abu Zaad...". To read more you must sign up for a "free trial promotion" ("When you sign up during a free trial promotion you will be asked to supply your credit card details, however your credit card will not be charged until the free trial period has expired." How irritating). Anyway, we've now visited there going on ten times (I'd say) so now I feel quite ready to write about it myself. The mains on the menu are quite meat-heavy; there are a couple of veggie and fish options, but we have never bothered as the starter options are so great. We've found ourselves in a bit of a routine where we order (exactly) six of the starters (each priced at £2-3), which is plenty of food and a lot of variety as well. It's always a bit of a difficult decision which of the choices will make up our six. It always includes cheese sambouseks, batata harra (spicy potatoes with peppers), [ummm, I can't remember the name, but it includes pasta, lentils, fried onions, fried bread, mmmmm]. Sometimes also including spinach fatayer (a sort of squishy filled bready product, ready to be drizzled with lemon juice and mmmmm), hummus, falafel, stuffed vine leaves, baba ghanoush, and an assortment of others. All washed down with a nice glass of mint tea. Did I say mmmmm? And it always comes to less than £20 (we also seem to gobble our food like mad, so we don't spend very long there either. When it comes down to it, the food is quite similar to other eastern Mediterranean locales, and I have to say not evil at all. I can't wait till the next show at Bush Hall or Shepherds Bush Empire brings us back to Abu Zaad (it may be a while. Nothing good on the horizon, I'm not interested in seeing, say, Jethro Tull [and besides, they aren't playing until March]).




¹ We saw South San Gabriel (band site), a fantastic band I'd never seen live before (although I have heard some recordings of their live material. I felt compelled to attend and buy merchandise not only because I liked what I heard, but because they are one of those groups who don't seem to mind people recording their shows and sharing them online for free). On this tour they were performing the songs from their new CD "The Carlton Chronicles: Not Until The Operation’s Through". Perhaps a rock opera, definitely a concept album as it is the story of a cat, told from the cat's perspective (I will ruin the ending by telling you all "the cat survives"). Once they finished with the cat business (apparently this was the last show on the "cat tour" of Europe) they did play some other songs not of a feline persuasion. I am rubbish at writing about music but I will say this: the sound was very layered: multiple guitars (acoustic, electric, pedal steel), keyboards and a few effects. What I could catch of the lyrics... very interesting and seemed to be on the intelligent side (I should note that I have a lot of trouble hearing and/or paying attention to lyrics in general). All in all a really good show. A friend of ours who also goes to lots of gigs (her personal site) called it her gig of the year. As far as I am concerned, it didn't quite top Sufjan Stevens, Curtis Eller, Swearing At Motorists, but it was definitely in the top ten (gosh, I haven't even mentioned M Ward, Broken Family Band, Drive By Truckers, Rufus Wainwright, Danny Barnes, or the Rosinators. Fortunately I haven't had to actually decide upon a top ten).

²An excellent venue indeed. According to the venue's website (info here) it was built "in 1904, [when] a publisher called William C. Hurndall presented a gift in the form of a dance hall to each of his three daughters: Lillian, Eugenie and Olive." It's quite an ornate room (and has served previously as a bingo hall and snooker parlor); general consensus around our table was that it would make a great location for a bingo/disco party. Here is what it takes to hire the place for your own special occasion.

And now it's time for another gig report, even though I have quite a lot of trouble writing about music in any sort of way that actually reflects my experience of it. Last night we went to see Sufjan Stevens performing an "acoustic show with strings and horns". Plenty has been written elsewhere about Sufjan (thanks especially to largeheartedboy whose excellent detective work has turned up loads of Sufjan articles, reviews and downloads (follow this link to a google search of sufjan in largeheartedboy), or check out some of his rave reviews on Pitchfork) so I'll stick to descriptions of the shows.

The first time we saw him was a couple of weeks ago, at a sold-out show at the Shepherds Bush Empire (all seated, capacity of 1278). That show featured heavily from his hotly-tipped latest album "(Come on feel the) Illinoise" and was heavy on midwestern kitsch. He and the band (the Illinoisemakers) were dressed in cheerleader costumes (University of Illinois colors but not logos), and many of the songs were introduced by cheers which served not only to provide aforementioned midwestern kitsch but also to explain some of the details to an audience who may not have been familiar with, say, Casimir Pulaski Day, or the amenities of Decatur. It was a fantastic show in my opinion, although I overheard a couple of hipsters grumbling about the squeaky-clean midwestern uncoolness (happy clappy cheerleader performances are difficult to accommodate within a framework of studied cynicism) and the no-smoking policy (signs around the venue read "This show is NO SMOKING at the artist's request". Good on him). So I was extremely happy to read a brief posting on the Londonist announcing that Sufjan would be playing another show, this time an acoustic gig at the Kings College London students' union (capacity, a few hundred sweaty people).

We scrambled to get our tickets, wondering what an "acoustic" gig might be like. After all, the show at the Empire was quite acoustic (excluding amplification equipment); the only "non-acoustic" instrument I can think of was an electric guitar or two ("acoustic" instruments including piano, banjo, acoustic guitar, xylophone (or one of its close cousins), trumpet, trombone, drums and various percussion instruments. And cheerleaders which fall into "acoustic"). Well, as it turned out all of the above instruments featured, plus a string quartet. No cheerleader costumes, however. But as the show was on Halloween, all of the performers wore masks. Well, they wore their masks onto the stage, and quickly decided that impaired vision wasn't the best option. So it was a stage full of unmasked masked performers, all with masks on the tops of their heads. The acoustic nature of the show came, as it turns out, in the material. Nearly all of the songs came from his 2004 album Seven Swans, with reworked arrangements (including the string quartet). The first half of the show featured Sufjan on guitar (and included Mrs. Dunce's favorite song from "Illinois", "John Wayne Gacy Jr." [follow this NPR link to hear it for yourself]), for the second half he switched over to the banjo. The audience was impressively quiet, although Mrs. Dunce suffered from an undesirable invasion of personal space (by someone much taller who crowded in front of her then spent the whole show leaning back over her [despite her various escape attempts]). Again, an excellent show, but completely unlike the previous one.

The past week has been a great one for live music. So good, in fact, that I am going to barely mention a fantastic show by Sufjan Stevens and the Illinoisemakers (reviewed in the Independent). This is even though Sufjan Stevens is odds-on favorite to win the Dunce household's coveted "Musician of the Year" award for 2005 (the only thing standing in his way is that no such award exists). And I'm also not going to say much about a great show last night by Chris Mills, another of the Dunce family's favorites (aha! his tour blog is over here, but doesn't mention this show just yet). Mainly because anything I write about the show would turn into a rant about the Borderline and the terrible job they've done in promoting shows since they've become a part of the whole Mean Fiddler enterprise. Monday night shows are lower in attendance than other nights anyway, and, well, as Chris put it himself, "Welcome to the secret Chris Mills gig". (see also a couple weeks ago when Mike Ferrio's Monday gig was even more secret, not even appearing on the club's own website). Harrumph, that's what I say.

No, today's entry will focus upon New York City's angriest yodeling banjo player, Curtis Eller, and his recent show at the 12 Bar Club.


From the bio on his website, "He sings about pigeon racing, performing elephants and Jesus, all of which he has seen with his own eyes. He started his show-business career at the age of seven as a juggler and acrobat in the Hiller Olde Tyme Circus in Detroit, but has since turned to the banjo because that's where the money is. His biggest musical influences are Buster Keaton, Al Jolson and Abraham Lincoln." He's made it to London a few times now (solo, leaving the rest of the American Circus behind). The first time I saw him was at the Fiddlers Elbow (the now-defunct Come Down and Meet the Folks club with which regular readers should be quite familiar) where his banjo antics won the crowd over. His songs take a lot of themes from the period between the wars. And by that I mean beteen the Civil War and World War II. For example, one song takes the perspective of Karl Wallenda's wife (shockingly, the Wallendas are still at it [despite all the falls] although they've fractionated into various groups of [superlative] Wallendas). Or "1890" which is a song of misery, with the message

...And I’m hoping this is just a run of bad luck
And maybe next season the crowds’ll be better
And the spanish web will turn in the spotlight
And the blood will return to my heart

And here’s hopin’ things pick up in 1890...

His songs of bygone days aren't just fictional, either. For example, consider the lyrics of his song The Execution of Black Diamond, a tale of a circus elephant shot dead in Corsicana, Texas (Bb minor if you're humming along), and compare it with the historical record (rootsweb.com link). OK there are some questions about the number of bullets it took to bring Black Diamond down, but I bet those questions have been around since the day it happened.

Another historic incident, well, I know I've vowed previously not to turn this into a political blog, but how could I avoid ranting about the insanity in the White House?! It's crazy, that's what it is, the utter madness of the President of the US, and if I'd known about this tale sooner maybe I'd be a political blogger today. Thanks to super-patriot Curtis Eller for bringing it to our attention!! I'm talking, of course, about the madness of Abraham Lincoln as mentioned in the song "Sugar in My Coffin". Digging up the corpse of his dead son (not once but twice), bad enough that Mary Todd had to hold a seance? OK maybe the body was in a tomb and required no mud-digging, but still.

And I still haven't mentioned his performing style which has to be seen to be believed (waltzing with the banjo, standing perched on a rickety stool, climbing into the balcony, creeping into a corner, contorting and jigging and stretching in all sorts of directions). Or name-checking Ypsilanti (Actually, come to think of it, of the artists I've seen this week only Chris Mills doesn't have a song mentioning Ypsilanti, thanks to "For The Windows In Paradise, For The Fatherless In Ypsilanti" by Sufjan Stevens). All that and a really nice guy too. It was good to see the 12 Bar packed with people to see him. I'll be making a real effort to see him again, maybe even outside of London.

Finally, cosmik.com has a great interview with him here; I didn't have a chance to weave the link into the tale above.

My final tale of the Folks is the tale of the Dunces. It begins shortly before my Tale of Adam Ant; the exact beginning of this tale can be identified as 3 November 2001. The occasion was the "Beyond Nashville" festival at the Barbican, featuring not only a series of evening concerts but also loads of free musical performances starting about noon and continuing after the evening's main event. On this particular day the event was an eagerly-awaited gathering of assorted luminaries of the (so-called) alt-country world, led by Howe Gelb (including Giant Sand, Vic Chesnutt, PJ Harvey, Kurt Wagner, Mark Linkous, Evan Dando, perhaps others but this tale is not about the show [reviewed here if you are especially interested] so I'll stop there [if these names are not familiar to you, you'll have to trust me].). During one of the free music events I was a-wandering and ran into L____, one of the central (and most lovable) characters of the Folks family, who took a moment to introduce me to another of his friends who had not spent much time at the Folks of late. Although I didn't know it at the time, this was indeed the future Mrs. Dunce, and L____ was the Cupid who brought us together.

One look at each other and we both got dizzy and weak in the knees, flushed of forehead and perhaps a little shaky of hand. I would like to say this was because of love at first sight but a more realistic explanation was that we were both already suffering from assorted ills (I should also note that it couldn't be love at first sight because (the future) Mrs. Dunce had already noticed me at previous music events [I should note that she has a steel-trap mind when it comes to recognizing people's faces, while I am severely deficient in this area]). So we made our introductions and a moment of light conversation before staggering off in our respective directions. Fortunately I had extracted a key piece of information from her: that in the very near future she would be attending a Hawksley Workman gig with her sister (who was in town at the time). Seeing that as an invitation of sorts, I arrived at the Spitz only to find the show sold out (and very sold out, as no one was selling an extra ticket, and my various attempts to blag my way in, or even blagging my way into buying a ticket, were rudely rebuffed). Denied entry, I sought other entertainment: a terrible evening with London's top Grateful Dead tribute act the Cosmic Charlies (I have enjoyed them on many occasions, but this was not one of them: a lackluster performance by a subset of the band, played to a very small, mostly unappreciative [and in one case, outrageously offensive in behavior] audience). Fortunately (the future) Mrs. Dunce resumed attendance at the Folks, so we met again soon after that evening, and quickly became inseparable (not literally).

Time passed and things went well. An image of a calendar shedding pages would be appropriate (if clichéd) here (or feel free to insert your own narrative device to express the passing of time [if the overt "Time passed" is not sufficient]). OK, that'll do.

It's "now" about two years later, or to be exact 14 December 2003. As usual we had made our way to the Fiddlers Elbow for the Folks. Performers that evening were NYC's own primitive-style dobro flatpicker Breadfoot, and Neil Cleary (I ended up with a N.C. bumper sticker which says "If you're in a folk song, don't go to the river" which is sensible advice indeed) among others. But this isn't about the music; unbeknownst to (the future) Mrs. Dunce some plans were afoot. The Autocrat played a couple of songs then (by prior arrangement) made an announcement: something like "A friend of mine has a bit of a performance now, please welcome Mr. Dunce to the stage". And then it was my moment as I came to the stage and took the microphone. I started with a bit of rambling about how I'd been coming down to the Folks for a while now and had made a lot of friends and gotten to know a lot of good people very well, that it was a really great community &c &c. I made the mistake of using the phrase "I'd like to come out ... " which was met (of course) with a heckle concerning my sexuality. But then I continued, mentioning that it was thanks to the Folks (and L____ in particular) that I had met (the future) Mrs. Dunce. And then I asked her to marry me (not from bended knee, at least as I recall. Sorry about that). Needless to say the crowd erupted and called on her to come up and give an answer. Which will be no surprise (given all my signaling what with "the future Mrs. Dunce", &c) was a loud and enthusiastic "YES!" into the microphone. And with that, we were engaged. With the expected consequences: cheering, a few tears here and there, hugs, pats on the back and so on. The rest of the evening was a major celebration, unfortunately slightly marred by some degree of excess (I blame the pub locale, and a surfeit of enthusiasm [and I would fully support any Governmental move to make absinthe illegal again]) but definitely my personal highlight of my Come Down and Meet the Folks experience.

If I'm telling tales about the Folks, I can hardly omit my one and only performance on stage at the Folks (I mean my one and only musical performance on stage; I'll discuss that other performance in my next entry). It was Christmas Eve eve, and the last Folks of 2001. And what says Christmas more than a musical tribute to Johnny Cash, featuring London's best Johnny Cash tribute act The Folsom Four (featuring Morrisey's guitarist Boz Boorer) with "special guests"? As usual anyone was welcome to perform a couple of songs beforehand, and on this occasion the suggestion was made that floorspot performances should really be Johnny Cash related.

What better occasion, then, for me to make my performance debut? The Autocrat and I had gotten together a couple of nights beforehand and ran through a couple of appropriate songs (No Depression in Heaven, Daddy Sang Bass) until I was able to manage to get everything mostly right, or at least close enough. We were on first and I'd never seen so many people crowded into the Golden Lion. Fortified with a sip or two of the dark stuff I was ready to take the stage (or as ready as I'd ever be). I don't recall much at all about the performance, other than that the songs were really short, that my (brief) solos were pretty much disastrous, and worst of all that I didn't sing the "Daddy sang bass" line particularly low, which ruins the whole effect (thank goodness the Autocrat was able to provide a quality falsetto for the "tenor" part, as well as being an excellent player despite my hacking performance). We did, however, receive a roaring ovation when we finished (perhaps out of pity, but it doesn't matter, I'll take it) and it was such a relief to be finished that I can't exactly remember what happened immediately thereafter.

Eventually the Folsom Four came on stage and ran through the whole range of Cash material (they played pretty much everything you'd expect), but the best was yet to come as the special guests started to appear, each one backed by the Folsom Four. First up was one of the guys from psychobilly band The Meteors (at least, I think that's who it was. If not, well you'll have to blame my unfamiliarity with the world of psychobilly [or anything-billy for that matter]). Following him was UK comedian Mark Lamarr, radio personality and host of the music/comedy TV program "Never Mind the Buzzcocks" (a favorite in the Dunce house). Surprisingly enough he was quite good as a musical performer as well (follow this link if you'd like to book him for your event. Fee bracket £11k - £15k) although I can't recall any details of his performance. Because of my shock and awe at seeing the next performer...

At first I thought it was just another drunk crazy guy off the street, a common occurrence at the Golden Lion. But then he was introduced... as Adam Ant! He was wearing a cowboy hat, a dark jacket and some heavy sunglasses, loads of rings and camouflage trousers. When he took off the hat it was clear why he was wearing it: a mohican doesn't look so good when the front half has been devastated due to baldness. In honor of the Johnny Cash tribute theme he began by complaining that Elvis Presley is underappreciated, and therefore he'd treat us to a few Elvis songs. Very strange to hear an aging, crazed Adam Ant singing "In the Ghetto", that's for sure (not to mention "Bang a Gong [Get it on]" which was also part of his performance according to my records). Once he'd staggered through the Elvis songs it was time for some Eighties classics (Cleopatra, Young Parisians, Prince Charming among others). I think his performance was rubbish but by that point it didn't matter, everyone was crowded toward the front, standing/dancing on every available horizontal surface (and some not-quite horizontal surfaces). Eventually it was over and Adam Ant eventually staggered off into the Camden night. What a memorable night it was... the night I opened for Adam Ant.


Epilogue: Only a couple of weeks later, Mr. Ant (real name Stuart Goddard) got into a bit of trouble around Camden Town. The NME headline says it all, really: "ADAM ANT IN MENTAL WARD", while the BBC was a bit more sensitive "Adam Ant detained in hospital". According to follow-up reports (BBC source), "The singer was charged earlier this year after the incident in January at the Prince of Wales pub in Kentish Town, north London. He returned to the pub after regular drinkers there laughed at his "cowboy" clothes. He was said to have smashed the pub's windows - injuring musician Plato Contostavlos - and waved a starting pistol at customers who ran after him. It appeared he was furious that customers had mockingly sung the theme from The Good, The Bad And The Ugly when he walked in.". Fortunately it seems that things have improved for Mr. Ant, according to gigwise his autobiography is on the way: "The book, entitled, ‘Stand and Deliver’ will chart the singer’s dysfunctional childhood and his rise to fame and his decline into manic depression. Ant has kept in-depth diaries of his life since the 1970’s and has signed a lucrative deal to spill the beans on his crazy life."

A London institution is to be no more. I've already been scooped by Sarmoung who gives a brief report here (if reporting on a publically-circulated email can be called a scoop) about the imminent demise of the weekly music club "Come Down and Meet the Folks" (website still to be found here at least for a while). According to the Folks History page it's been a regular event since 1996, held every Sunday early evening (supposedly ending in the vicinity of 8pm which, in theory, allowed a full musical experience without excessive suffering come Monday morning [I said "in theory"])This Sunday will be the last Folks (at least as a weekly event, and contrary to what the "forthcoming events" listing on their website may suggest), and as it was an important part of my London experience I thought I should mention a few of my Folks highlights.

My first Folks experience was at the end of April 2001, definitely a time of transition for me as a couple good friends had packed up and left London earlier that day. Casting about for something to do on a lazy Sunday afternoon I picked up a copy of Time Out and noticed two important words, neither of which I had formerly associated with London: "free" and "bluegrass". How could I resist? The event calendar said 4-8pm so I thought I'd wander in a little after the starting time. At the time the Folks was held at the Golden Lion in Camden Town (rated 4.5/10 on b.i.t.e. with this quite-accurate user comment "...It's one of those inner London locals with little in the way of redeeming features. The pool table is tiny and seems to be monopolised by 10-year olds. It has an air of loneliness. It sounds very patronising, but you come out feeling sorry for the place."). Little did I know that the Folks didn't really start going until 6:30 or so, so there I was in a rather down-at-heel pub where I found myself in conversation with a couple of drunken, lairy locals. One of the "highlights" of this conversation (besides the predictable piss-taking of all things American) was a wacky practical joke I would urge you to play on all your friends as it's quite hilarious!!

1. Put your finger in your bottom.
2. Wipe it under your friend's nose.
3. Hilarity ensues!!

Fortunately I was neither a putter nor a wiper (I got over this fad about the age of five or so), yet somehow this delightful frivolity did not drive me out of the pub (to somewhere I could lie in the fetal position, no doubt). Eventually a less "local" crowd started to gather, some in Midwest/Southwest lowlife costumes (think "truckstop chicken", "gas station attendant", "leering guy who sits on his porch with beer and a gun", etc. And not a nice truckstop, gas station or porch either), others in full-on rockabilly costume, others who looked like they were trying to be the early Rolling Stones, and everything in between (or so it seemed).

By the time the music started, I was sold. I don't remember who all played (there has been a long-standing custom that pretty much anyone who wants to play can stand up and do a couple of songs). The main act was Foghorn Leghorn, a north London bluegrass band perhaps best known for their cover tunes (Motorhead's Ace of Spades being the one I remember from that day [and many others]). I think they're still around although it's been a while and their website doesn't appear to be in action at the moment. I don't think I met any of the "Folks" themselves (there was always a bit of tension between the Folks and the Locals, about which more later) but I decided I'd start attending regularly. Which was good indeed for me...

I'm busy as can be today, preparing to lead a discussion on the latest salvos in the big Hauser/Chomsky/Fitch vs. Pinker/Jackendoff debate on the difficult question of what aspects of language are unique to humans (and how to go about answering that question). But I thought I should briefly mention another interesting music link (thanks to largeheartedboy who is one of my favorite sources of music-related information out there): National Public Radio's music show All Songs Considered is available online and at the moment features a show by M Ward, one of those artists I can't hear enough of (also featured at the moment are the White Stripes and the Shins. Both of whom I like, but not like I like M Ward).

The Dunce household has been taken rather off guard by recent sightings of a real live World Famous Celebrity in our neighborhood. According to the rumor mill, Famous Rap Superstar 50 Cent has been filming a new video just a mile or so away on north London's rapidly-gentrifying Green Lanes. But not just Green Lanes, as it turns out, but just a few minutes' walk from our house, at our local, in fact. One of the guys in charge has a blog on which he reported the news (taking a break from renovating another pub; hope that's going well):

"Apparently someone called "50 cent" was recording a video promo outside the hairdressers next door to the Oakdale tonight. There were lots of lighting people, cameramen, people with fluffy microphones on sticks, and hangers-on....

Not really what you expect in a quiet back street in north London on a Wednesday night... as far as I can tell, the main part of the shoot took place earlier on in the warehouses up the street, which are occupied by a video production company. They are responsible for the largest ever tab at the pub: about £300 on their manager's credit card, about 4' long when printed as a till receipt."

No mention of what they drank, but 50 Cent's lyrics give a good idea of his preferences which are not exactly the typical Oakdale order:

"You mix a lil' Cris with a little Dom Perignon.
And a lil' Hennessy, you know we 'finna carry on."

On one hand I'm quite excited about having celebrities in the neighborhood, but on the other hand Mr. Cent has himself quite a reputation. But I'm not sure his reputation suits the area, which seems like a rather odd place to be shooting a video. The hairdressers' shop is not especially notable; it looks neither gritty nor hip (at least to my eye which admittedly is not well-tuned for either), and I wouldn't have it in my video, that's for sure. The pub, well, I certainly enjoy stopping by for a pint or two (and perhaps a hand of Koi-koi [no I am not affiliated with the yakuza]). Some of his other lyrics (warning: plenty of questionable comment if you are sensitive to that) don't offer any real insight (and I didn't see any new bullet holes in the Oakdale), so it remains a mystery. Unfortunately this means that I'll have to start watching 50 Cent's videos in order to spot nearby landmarks. If I manage to find it, I'm afraid I will be unable to stop myself from re-enacting scenes from the video.

By the way, readers who are curious about the term "finna" (quoted above from 50 Cent's song "Disco Inferno") will be pleased to know that the Language Log contains a brief discussion of this term and its use (here): a contraction of "fixing to" akin to "gonna" for "going to".

As a music obsessive I spend an awful lot of time listening to music at work (pretty much continuously, except when I'm discussing things with other people, or dealing with non-musical audio files). My preferences tend to change from week to week, but have usually included a mix of internet radio (often from the "Americana", "Alt-country" or bluegrass genres) and legally-recorded and legally-downloaded live performances by artists I am particularly fond of. Lately I've been taking advantage of a large-scale repository of free, legally-downloadable music, courtesy of archive.org.

I found my way to archive.org through its connections with etree, a group formed with the aim of sharing high-quality concert recordings of artists who permit the free distribution of their live music. From their "About" page,

"Etree.org owns nothing. It is not a corporation and there certainly are no corporate offices. All work is volunteer, and all servers are independently owned and operated. The common thread is a belief among its members that music which bands permit to be traded, should be freely traded.

Not all music is available through etree.org. This biggest difference between etree.org and other online music sites is that Etree.org deals exclusively with legally tradeable music. We only deal with live recordings by artists that allow taping and/or free trading of their performances. The list of TradeFriendly bands grows daily."

The etree community at that time consisted of a lot of individuals, independently running their own public FTP servers and posting "contents" announcements on a mailing list (I ran one myself for quite some time, and it's still around although no longer open 24/7). Things are somewhat different now that archive.org exists, as it provides a central repository ("digital library", if you like) of numerous artists who allow this sort of taping and trading of their music. This solves the two main problems of the independent server operator: storage space and bandwidth usage, as both are provided for this specific purpose (rather than "liberated" as was quite often the case, for example the classic Undernet (RIP, 1999-2002) whose "death announcement" (now sadly unavailable online, it seems) was an excellent tale of cat and mouse before its eventual shutdown).

The etree collection can be found here, and features a number of my currently favorite artists (most of whom are also available in MP3 format for easy online streaming), such as the Drive-By Truckers (138 live shows), Danny Barnes (30 shows, plus Bad Livers which adds 14 more), and who can forget the Grateful Dead for whom an astounding 2937 different recordings are available (by careful splicing, you could probably create a version of Drums > Space > Drums that would last a whole lifetime!!). I've been listening to a lot of artists I'm not especially familiar with (although some quality control is necessary; even though a band allows their live material to be recorded and shared, it may not deserve such treatment).

And it's not just the Etree collection that's available on archive.org. There's a nice collection of digitized 78rpm records (I'm currently listening to a Benny Bell collection [all "double-entendre party records" like "Noses Run In My Family", mostly from the 1940s]), and open source audio as well, here (open to the community for the contribution of any type of audio). There are some really interesting old-timey recordings from the 20s and 30s under the "Country" and "Blues" classifications; I haven't explored this collection much further.


This last comment doesn't have anything to do with music, but I see that my local bike shop has Banana Guards on clearance. Although I've never worried before about the possibility of crushed bananas, now all I can do is worry. Fortunately I am taking the bike in for service tomorrow morning, perhaps I'll come back with a collection of banana protectors.

Once-popular British music star Cliff Richard may be unknown in the US, but has been a huge star in the UK since the beginning of his career in the 1950s. According to the Wikipedia entry, he ...

Has sold more singles in the UK than any other artist (2nd place: the Beatles; 3rd place: Elvis);

Has had 14 #1 singles in the UK; only Elvis and the Beatles had more;

Is the only artist to have a #1 UK single in every decade since the inception of the UK singles charts (1952), with the exception of the 2000s which is not over;

Has been knighted.

But he's had enough, as this Guardian article explains (based on an interview Sir Cliff gave to the Daily Mail). His records aren't being played on the radio any more, and he blames an unofficial boycott:

"I just don't have the time to waste making a record that no one will play," he told the Daily Mail. "As a musician you make a record for the radio so that the public can hear it, but my songs don't get played. It's not that DJs don't like them, it's that the stations have a policy that says, 'We don't play him'." By way of a concession, he added: "I will be playing concerts until the day I die because I love the atmosphere - but I'll never make another record."

At first I scoffed at the notion of an unofficial boycott which sounds a lot like "sour grapes" to me. A situation like "The radio stations aren't playing my records any more, so I'll stop making them." seems entirely logical; why keep at it if they are no longer in demand? As it turns out, reading the rest of the article, it sounds like there have been "boycotts" in the past:

Sir Cliff's status as a radio star began to wane in 1998 when Chris Evans - then the breakfast show host on Virgin Radio - vowed he would never again play one of his records. Other stations took up the cause to such an extent that the DJ Tony Blackburn was suspended from his job on Classic Gold for breaking the ban.

Now, seven years later, instead of an official boycott, it's become unofficial? Perhaps this is driven by slipping popularity. This scarily-complete site documenting Cliff Richard's chart performance shows his sad performance on the charts since 2000:
"Over The Rainbow/Wonderful World" reached #11 in December 2001; "Let Me Be The One" only made it to #29 in spring 2002; another shot at Christmas #1, "Santa's List" got to #5 in December 2003. In 2004 he charted twice, with "Somethin' Is Goin' On" (#9 in October) and yet another Christmas #1 attempt "I Cannot Give You My Love" (#13). Most recently "What Car" got to #12 in May, but disappeared quickly thereafter. The site commentary tries to put a positive spin on it, but it sounds a little forced:

Cliff's single of Over the rainbow is the 'biggest' hit version of the song in the British chart. Other versions and chart positions: Matchbox (No.15), Sam Harris (No.67) and Eva Cassidy (No.42)...

...Santa's List was Cliff's 125th hit single, his 65th Top 10 hit single and is his biggest hit in the 2000's to date. It has the distinction of being the ONLY Cliff single to peak at No.5 in the official U.K. singles chart!

At least die-hard fans can count on continuing to see him at concerts, and Cliff completists will finally be able to take a break.

After a bicycle detour it's time to return to the West and the Tapestry Goes West festival; today I'll write a little about my impressions of the music (I've copied most of the artists' links from blogjam who has already taken the time to look them up). Here they are in the order in which they appeared (artists I missed aren't listed).

Friday night: We spent most of our time in lawless Silver City, trying to avoid looking high-strung outlaws in the eye. Who wants to be pumped full of lead on the first night of a festival?

Archie Bronson: A good loud rock band with a strong 1970s feel. Entertaining and energetic.

Rod Stern: Solo acoustic guitar stuff. Good, catchy songs, it's a shame about the lame spoken-word stuff. Hmmm where did I hear the same sort of thing before? Yawn, I'm soooooo shocked.

Swearing at Motorists: Playing on Friday in place of the Beat Up who, I guess, didn't show. Oh well. By far the best act I saw at the festival, see my previous entry for more.

Leaf Hound: Talk about 1970s rock, these guys had it in spades. I guess because they're a revived act from the late 60s/early 70s. One song sounded almost exactly like Black Sabbath, the next, Deep Purple, then there was a ZZ Top-ish one and so on. They were good at it but it's not exactly my thing.

Tokyo Dragons: Another act on the nostalgia parade, this time a hard rock sound from a little later in the 70s before all the spandex, glitter and makeup took over. It was all a bit much after Leaf Hound, I can take only so much of the 70s sound before I collapse into the fetal position (the 1970s, though my formative years, were not my best period). There was a lot of talk about whether the Dragons are serious or ironic (c.f. The Darkness) but really, who cares. A lot of people were really into them, and that matters more.

Misty's Big Adventure: We only saw their last couple of songs (in the rain, and the only real time we spent in Fort Smith on Friday) but it was a true spectacle. Goofy Zappa-ish something-or-another but mainly a lot like an insane cartoon soundtrack (their website gives a good impression of this). I can't really give justice to the dancing jester (of sorts) but I wish I'd seen more. There's a video for "Hey Man" on their Myspace blog (go to "view all blog entries").

And that was the music for Friday night. Saturday instead we spent nearly all of the day in Fort Smith (or at least that part of the day when the music was on).

Peter Bruntnell played the first Saturday set in Fort Smith. I've seen him quite a few times, some good acoustic songs (some of which are a little too catchy), but not many people braved the mist for his set.

Salty Dogs (didn't find a link): Some average bluegrass and old-timey standards (Beverly Hillbillies theme, Dueling Banjos, you get the idea), introduced in a slightly over-theatrical manner (a bit too Hee Haw for my liking) and played in a rather workmanlike fashion.

Swearing at Motorists played again after that; we were right down front and it was even better than the previous night, perhaps due to Dave's freakish control over the weather, stopping the rain for just long enough for their set.

We then headed over to Silver City for Circulus. A lot of people really hate them, as they manage to bring together several potential targets of hate into a convenient target: (1) They wear medieval costumes (c.f. renaissance faiyres). (2) They (mostly) play medieval instruments ("There's a reason people don't play those instruments any more"). (3) Their medieval music is fused with prog-rock of the most egregious sort (and it's not hard to find prog-haters). It's sort of like what might happen if a tour bus containing Yes and ELO crashed into the Minstrel's Tent at the Society for Creative Anachronism. But I think they're good fun (live); I'm a bit hesitant about their recorded material, however.

Unfortunately we returned too late to see the Rosinators who are fantastic. I've seen them many times and, I hope, many more. But it was raining fairly hard at this point so I chickened out and joined some of the masses inside the snack bar/bar/meeting hall where a lone (electric) pianist (the piano was electric not the pianist) was playing a little of this and a little of that.

And finally it was Alan Tyler to close the festival with some rocking country songs in the driving rain (or at least heavily blowing mist). Alan hosts the weekly club we attend on a not-quite-so-weekly basis at the moment. If only he'd update that website.

So that was it for the live music. Loads of people braved the rain and mud for the Sin City/Heavy Load nightclub in the campground but not us. We flopped into the tent and were dead to the world until morning. Or at least I was.

Other reviews of the festival can be found at Wendywire and blogjam (in case you're interested in reading reports that are untainted by my biased opinions).

Friday morning we set out bright and early (9am), headed for Cornwall and the Tapestry Goes West festival. An hour later we were still enjoying the London traffic creep, having been diverted for unspecified police activity near Mrs. Dunce's workplace (potential worriers, do not be concerned, this was nowhere near Dalgarno Road where snipers pointed guns at bare-bottomed bomb suspects at about the same time). I could go on in great detail about the journey, but will just say that at about 5pm we found ourselves in the vicinity of Spirit of the West, the festival venue. Only in the vicinity, however, as there is only a very limited amount of signage for this highly desirable tourist location. One hour later, after painstakingly traversing every road between St. Ives and Bodmin (perhaps exaggerated for dramatic effect) we found it & set to pitching our tent.

The Wild West theme park is divided into two areas: Fort Smith (the "good town", full of law-abiding citizens, proper businesses, and a snack bar) and Silver City (the "lawless town", full of stinking, no-good hombres of all sorts, a tavern full of lairy, leering misfits, and a gallows in the center of the square) and to some extent the musical entertainment reflected this difference (Fort Smith performers were all string quartets with powdered wigs, angel-faced boys' choirs and sweet little old ladies singing along to the player piano; Silver City performers were satanic demons eating the faces off young children, people who didn't wash their hands after using the toilet, and players of electrified instruments of all sorts. Or something like that).

There's plenty to tell about the weekend's events (to come later this week), but for now I'll just mention my musical highlight: Swearing at Motorists. Two guys, a singer/guitarist and a drummer (I don't think they are married OR brother and sister, there goes that comparison down the drain). A lot of loud, manic guitar playing and a sound somewhere between Flat Duo Jets and Steve Albini (Opal Dunce's opinion which I couldn't really better). Also the only act to perform on both the vile, degraded stage of Silver City (Friday night) and the pristine, family-friendly stage of Fort Smith (Saturday). Perhaps one of those circuit riders got to them in the night; there was definitely an unearthly power behind them, a few words from singer/guitarist Dave Doughman were enough to stop Saturday's rainfall just long enough for their set. When they finally finished I was near enough to the front to join the mad crush to buy Swearing at Motorists merchandise (I ended up with a handful of gravel, a corner of somebody else's setlist and part of Dave's ear. Actually, an early Swearing at Motorists CD). It's always a good feeling to be excited about a new band (OK they are not a new band, but new-to-me and not exactly well-known [as far as I know]).

Like i said, more tales from the Wild West later in the week. And possibly a cycle-commuting travelogue. We'll see...

But this time it was Mrs. Dunce's turn. It was last Friday, and we'd just staggered our way out of the auditorium after a Twisted Folk show¹ and ran into a familiar face. Well, familiar to Mrs. Dunce anyway: apparently he was one of the few friendly individuals at DeathCorp (Mrs. Dunce's former employer which did a Hindenburg just before Christmas 2003). Some light conversation ensued (what a great gig, time has flown by, many former DeathCorp employees are now in similar posts at DeathCorp's former client MegaDeathTech), and then we parted ways. But all was clearly not well with Mrs. Dunce who had a pained expression on her face (Perhaps it could have been the lake fish from the African Kitchen Gallery, but I think not). She couldn't remember the bloke's name, no matter what sort of mental convolutions she went through. But definitely there was some sort of partial information which wasn't quite right, she thought it might be something like "Martin", but not quite. A relatively uncommon name, but not much else was coming to mind. Although I was not experiencing the TOT myself, it was obviously a painful one as it continued through the evening (our Tube ride was full of grimaces [I mean, Mrs. Dunce was making pained faces, not that the carriage was occupied by purple advertising characters]), and it seemed quite likely that rather than going to bed at the late hour, we were soon to be poring through boxes of papers to find a DeathCorp employee list. But somehow that didn't happen, and I assumed it had passed from mind or been peacefully resolved without incident. But suddenly today there was an email, only four days later the matter was resolved.

Mrs Dunce wrote, This morning on the tube it came to me. I was near with thinking that the guy at M Ward’s name was Martin, his name is ____ Martin.

And just like that his name is back, and I doubt she'll forget it for a long time. I blame the surname which can also be used as a forename (and perhaps some repression of Mrs. Dunce's horrific DeathCorp experiences). And as usual, the partial information available in the tip-of-the-tongue state proved to be right on, just in the wrong place.

Some names have been changed because I don't want former DeathCorp employees to descend upon my blog with abusive comments, nor for the individual in question to learn that Mrs. Dunce didn't remember his name.

¹The gig was fantastic, entirely thanks to M Ward who is just an incredible musician. The first act, Currituck Co. were interesting but a little too noodly at times (I'll see them again soon so I may change my mind), and Vetiver put me off. Mainly because of Devendra Banhart who just acted like a spoiled brat on stage (which is a shame because I really enjoy the music I've heard from him).

In my previous post, how could I have forgotten Rufus Wainwright?! It was an honest mistake, honest! I'm not trying to keep my enjoyment of Rufus a secret. After all, his show (15 April) was one of the best I've seen in a long time. It's no trouble at all finding a huge bag of words to review Rufus with: he seems to be quite the music-section darling at the moment. So here's a good collection from which to write your own review:

louche -- Broadway -- heartfelt -- (Weimar) cabaret -- flamboyant -- operatic -- grandiose -- tragic hero -- opulence -- eccentric -- lush

Additionally, it seems that every review (or at least feature article) must make reference to his battle with crystal meth addiction, and also the song his father (Loudon Wainwright III) wrote about him when he was young (1975's "Rufus is a Tit Man", which is, you know, funny, cause Rufus is, like, gay and stuff).

This month has been an exceptional one when it comes to live music, even though I may not have attended as many gigs as I have in past years. I can't think of any other month in which I've seen so many good shows, and there are still 3 more to come before the month is done (with a fourth on the first of May). Rather than review them all myself, I'll list them (I am a lister, after all) and provide a bag of words plagiarized from other reviews of each (or made up by me). Pick a few words, shake, and write your own review (or preview if it hasn't happened yet!).

5 April - Joe Pernice (w/ James Walbourne): subtle -- poet -- fleeting -- mystical -- sedate -- low-fi -- melancholic -- classic -- jangly -- Americana. I think I need to add "beard" too as it was a bit of a surprise to see.

6 April - Dog Roses at What's Cooking: Americana -- rollicking -- harmony -- dark suits -- acoustic -- indie -- des hymnes à tous les amoureux solitaires

11 April - Danny Barnes (supporting, and playing with, Tim O'Brien) - bluegrass -- banjo -- instrumental improvisation -- barking mad -- gritty -- jazz -- Bad Livers -- fun -- twang -- Americana

18 April - Arlenes - country -- twang -- London -- California -- honky-tonk -- Americana -- honesty -- heartbreak -- exquisite

24 April - The Messengers of God - country -- dark -- soothing (?) -- harmony -- poetic -- holy -- unholy -- rollicking (No sign of "Americana", though I'm sure it's just because of the dearth of reviews so far. These guys were a real surprise & I hope to see them again soon)

Today, 27 April - Drive By Truckers - three guitars -- southern -- rock show -- whiskey -- truck stop -- gothic -- aural assault -- common man -- bitterness and despair -- Americana -- magnificent (I'm looking forward to this one perhaps more than any of the others, but I'd better bring my ear plugs)

29 April - Major Matt Mason USA - indie -- guitar -- low-fi -- songwriter -- NYC -- ramshackle -- genius -- DIY -- visionary

30 April - Broken Family Band: bag-o-words review already appears in my previous post about them.

At lunch today I was passed by a convertible blaring music at top volume. Not an unusual event in itself, especially given the (momentary) glimpse of springlike weather, but the song seemed spectacularly inappropriate for cranking up loud and driving around town:
My Heart Will Go On, by Celine Dion (I refuse to link either of them).

But then, I started thinking maybe there are worse songs to crank up loud (I could make a John Cage joke here but, erm, whoops, I guess I sort of did), but I couldn't think of any that were definitely bad enough (after all, at a certain point one crosses the border into the land of "so-bad-it's-good"). Any suggestions?

This past Sunday at Come Down and Meet the Folks was one of the best Folks evenings I've had in a long time. The headline act was the Rosinators, who play a good mix of bluegrass, gospel and Cajun. We've seen quite a lot of them (including a recent performance in Haltwhistle) and they keep getting better.

I also enjoyed the short opening set from Silver Saddle. Their sound fits well into the "alt-country"/"Americana" vein, quite reminiscent of Uncle Tupelo, Ryan Adams and the like. I wasn't completely bowled over; something about their performance came across as Tupelo-lite. But maybe I'm being hard on them because I was so impressed by someone else who followed immediately after them:

The highlight of the evening came from one man and a guitar. Cam Penner was over from Canada, playing a floorspot here and there. He only played a few songs, but what songs. I was quite impressed, and I've been waiting to be impressed by someone new for a while. Looking for a description of the music? Why not pick a few words from the "Write your own review" sample below, stir and bake until golden?
blue-collar gritty blues "trad" country suffering dust-bowl acoustic
(I left out "Canadian" but feel free to add it if you'd like to make direct reference to prairies, long roads, etc.

The Fiddlers Elbow can be a tough audience, especially where solo floorspots are concerned, but not in this case.... I wasn't alone in being seriously impressed. I managed to get the last copy of his CD (with band), Get Up and it's just as good. I hope he manages to make it back to the UK; I'd go out of my way to see him again.

Not an insult to the prodigal but the title of the latest album by my favorite local band, or perhaps more correctly, my favorite band who, to my delight, are from the local area (broadly stated, and in contrast to "The Local" as established in my last post.

Last night we went to London's swanky 100 Club to see the Broken Family Band. It was their 'official' launch party for Welcome Home, Loser (Now available on limited edition colored flexi-disc cassingle).

What makes them my favorite band? It's a not-so-easy-to-get-a-handle-on question. Or one with a complicated answer at least. (I should also note here that I'm tiresomely fickle when it comes to "favorite band" and anyone fool enough to ask is likely to get a sequence of bands from the recent period, all of whom I considered my favorite at least for a brief moment in that period [quite parallel to my response to the question "Where are you from?" which also evokes a sequence of locations {and perhaps a whole life story told to someone who's just making polite conversation /sorry about that/}]).

In short (ha!) they have a good combination of consistently good songs (both musically and lyrically), a musical style I can appreciate (and now that I've written that, I need to label them. Take a few of these words & jumble.  INDIE     ALT     GUITAR      IRREVERENT       COUNTRY      LOW-FI        CRASS. Now see how many other bands also fit that description. Repeat and serve warm.), and, well, I like listening to them. A lot.

Maybe it's also got something to do with having a snarky attitude that plays well with me. Nicely characteristic is from the FAQ on the band's website (linked above, you guess which one.):

What time are you on?

usually we're playing in venues that open around 7/8pm and close at 11pm/12am so its advisable to get to the venue between those times. If we're headlining you could get there later, if we're not then simply get to the venue early. Usually we try to play with people we like and would therefore recommend, so we'd advise seeing the whole show. There's no point asking us what time we're on, ever

And with that, once again I've run out of time before I have made much of a point. Sorry about that. I will try to return to the Broken Family Band love-fest in the future.