Three unrelated artists came to mind while
I was watching The Fall in concert a couple of
nights ago. 1) James Brown. OK, so this comparison isn't between Mr Brown and Mark E
Smith themselves, but more so between The JB's and the sterling work of Elena
Poulou, Dave Spurr, Pete Greenway, Keiron
Melling and Daren Garratt. Both combos so tight that you
couldn't get a rizla between them and in each
case leaving the front man free to improvise, safe in the knowledge
that they'll be right where he left them,
when he chooses to reconnect with the groove. 2) Miles Davis. In later years Miles, like Mark E
Smith, enjoyed amending the sound and
positions of the band while on stage,
physically pushing them forward or pulling
them back as they played. During 'First One
Today' the other evening, Smith pushed Peter
Greenaway to the very lip of the stage,
turned Dave Spurr's bass amp up so that his
playing briefly became a deafening funky
rumble and then unaccountably walked off
with one of Melling's cymbals. And Number 3?
Chuck Berry. Legendary for not overstaying
his welcome in the live arena, invariably clocking off within the hour. Similarly, The Fall gave
us 59 thrilling minutes and were gone.
The current Fall line-up is the longest
serving in the group's 39 year history and is
about to release a new LP, 'Sub-Lingual
Tablet'. Listen out for the epic centrepiece ' Auto Chip
2014-2016' when the record hits the streets
in May. Meanwhile, this is 'Dedication', filmed in concert late last year.
I can tell you very little about Winston
Heywood, other than the fact that he was
accompanied on his slim catalogue of 1970's
singles by, at various times, The Hombres,
The Soul Hombres and The Shoemakers. Two of
Heywood's singles were recorded at the Black
Ark in 1976 under the supervision of Lee
Scratch Perry and, as it's been a fair while since
the last Saturday Scratch, this one is the
appropriately titled 'Long Long Time'.
By the time I became a Manager in 2002, the
Coffee company for whom I worked had
established a very strict recruitment
procedure from which we were instructed not
to deviate, comprising of an extensive,
structured interview and the diligent
completion of a hefty written assessment of
each and every applicant. I would always
sneak a question or two about musical tastes
into every interview though - it had to be
done. If I had my way, I would never have
employed anyone who didn't at least like The
Buzzcocks and The Ramones, though on
reflection, the implementation of this policy
would probably have left our stores extremely short-handed for most of the time.
Here's a less frequently aired
favourite from each of those great bands.
Snug as a bug in a rug, this collared dove
has built a nest in a temporarily comfy,
though ultimately unwise location - a
neighbour's gutter. With heavy rain forecast
in the second half of the week, we fear the
worst for her eggs.
French musician Nino Nardini enjoyed a 40
year career, predominantly composing and
recording library music, which was used on
radio, TV and film. His large catalogue has
been much sampled by DJ's, though 1971's
'Jungle Obsession' is the only album I own.
From 'Jungle Obsession', and with the fate of our friend
the collared dove in mind, this is 'Creeping
Danger'.
About a month ago, Swiss Adam over at Bagging Area, pointed me in the direction of
a streaming Andrew Weatherall NTS radio show
(here). It proved to be a thoroughly
enjoyable if expensive couple of hours. I
already owned or knew of half a dozen of Mr
Weatherall's selections that day, but still
managed to buy two albums and a single before
the show had even finished and another two
albums off the back of it in subsequent
weeks. On Saturday Swiss Adam let it be known
that a new Weatherall NTS show was up for
grabs on Mixcloud. Flexible friend at the
ready, I'm going in.
This was one of my purchases from last
month's programme. 'The Sacrifice' by The Pattern
Forms is the b-side of a 7" single, 'Fluchtwege', which out now
on Ghost Box.
On Tuesday evening, in preparation for our
trip to the coast the following day, I sat at
my laptop perusing a selection of online pub-lunch menus and stumbled upon a dish
that caused my eyebrow to creak upwards in
the manner of Roger Moore's Spitting Image
puppet. Vegetarian Fish 'n' Chips. Intrigued,
I read on. The 'Fish' was actually halloumi, deep-fried in chilli, coriander and lime
batter. I closed my laptop. We had a winner. There was no
further research required.
Apparently, Chicago singer/songwriter Daniel Knox enjoyed a full English breakfast
on every stop of his recent UK tour (the
best was in Coventry, in case you're
wondering). I'd be interested to hear his
opinion on the merits of my veggie Fish 'n'
Chips. Maybe next time. Daniel's 'Blue Car'
is easily my favourite song of the year so far and
to be standing immediately in front of him as
he sang it, a couple of weeks ago, was
one of those, never to be forgotten, concert
moments. Check out more of his remarkable
music here.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
This whole shebang started on a whim. A few
tunes, each with an attached few lines of
waffle - 55 posts, bob's yer uncle. Once I
got into the groove though, the thing took
on a life of its own. For some of the years I
struggled to come up with anything and it
probably showed, while for others I had more
memories, tunes or photos than you could
shake a stick at. So I've got a little
backlog of stuff to dip into, going forward
(one for all you Buzzword Bingo fans out
there).
One
of the unfortunate by-products of my devoting
so much spare time to 55 From 55 (as well as
being laid low by an absolute stinker of a
cold last week) is that I've fallen way
behind with all the excellent blogs I follow
myself. Normal service, on all counts,
returns henceforth. Next time I post, it'll no doubt be regarding some of the newer stuff that's
been tickling my fancy over the past couple
of months.
Thank you to everyone who has dropped by to
support this little endeavor, it really is
very much appreciated. Right, I'm off out for
a spot of Birthday lunch with Mrs S. Catch you later. And remember - age is just a number.
---------------
As is the way of such things these days, many
of my favourite albums of 2014 don't actually
enjoy a physical presence here at Swede
Towers. A case in point was, until recently, 'Unlikely Mothers'
by Big Blood, where the only physical release
was of the 'Limited Edition Coloured Vinyl
Double LP' variety, which of course I was too
slow off the mark to snap up. Fortunately for
me, a second limited run of 150 appeared
early in 2015. This time I was off like a
shot and managed to bag a copy.
I can't recommend Big Blood highly enough and
I shall return to them more fully at some
point in the future. If you have any space in
your head and heart for a gothic acid psych folk hybrid, then I urge you to check out
'Unlikely Mothers' here and if you like what
you hear, you're in luck. The band have a
wealth of music going back 10 years, all
available to consume at the Free Music
Archive (here).
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
When he was young, fit and able, Dad loved to
walk. The chronic leg problems he suffered in
later life were a particularly cruel blow. By
the end he was struggling to even shuffle
around the house. I, on the other hand, would
rarely walk if there was some form of
transportation available. I was lazy and I didn't see the
point. Gradually, though, during my late 30's
and early 40's, I began to see the point. And
now, getting out and stretching my legs is a
fundamental part of my day. Even if I don't
have a planned destination, I do it just to
walk, something I wouldn't have dreamed of
when I was younger, fitter and more able..
Over the past year, hugely inspired by
similar posts from blogging chums C and
Singing Bear, I've taken my camera out with
me upon occasion and shared the results.
Here's a walk from July 2014.
The reason I mention this now, is that during
the course of my research for this series I
unearthed a set of photos taken on the self-same circular riverside route 16 months earlier, in January 2013, not long after a coating of snow. You might even be able to recognise a few of the locations if you flick between the two sets. Our
part of the world has been almost entirely
snow-free since then. Click on any of the shots to blow 'em up.
-----------------------------
In this series I've featured Pop, Rock,
Reggae,Dark Country, Minimal Techno, Motorik
Madness and Jazzy Post Rock, so since we're
nearing the end, how about a little 21st
Century Prog? 'The Mardi Gras Turned Ugly In
Seconds' is taken from Regal Worm's debut LP
'Use And Ornament'. Hear more of this band's
incredible music on their Bandcamp page
(here).
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
My self-imposed rules going into this series
(I do like a self-imposed rule) were; a) No
tunes that have previously graced these
pages, b) No appearances from any of my all-
time favourite bands, c) One song per artist,
d) No photos I've shared before and e) No
stories I've told before. As '55 From 55'
winds down, I can say in all honesty that
while none of the above rules have been badly
broken, some of 'em have taken a bit of a
bending. We're now into the years where I was
really having a proper crack at this blogging
lark after initially just playing around with
it and therefore I realise that I'm at a
greater risk of repeating myself, so these
last few posts will be more in the nature of
a general rounding-up of present day life in
and around Swede Towers.
A while back, I found myself musing (here) on
the total number of places I've called home
so far in my life. In October 2011, after a
few frustrating legal delays, I, along with
Mrs S, moved into what I calculate to be my
14th home. We're in a small village, though just a
mile across the marsh from the nearest town.
Our house used to form part of a much larger
one, but the two were divided in a roughly
two thirds/one third split. We're in the one
third bit and we call next door 'the big
house'. In the second half of the 19th
Century the building was the village shop
and close inspection of the brickwork,
internal and external, shows the ghostly outlines
of where original configurations of doors and windows once were. This is
how the it looked back then.
I'm currently sitting at the window above the
lamp, which is presumably positioned to
light the shop window. The lamp is long gone,
as is the window. Below me now is our street
door.
-----------------------------------------
Baltimore's Lower Dens have just issued their
third LP, 'Escape From Evil'. The record is
the follow up to 2012's 'Nootropics', which
featured the fabulous motorik driven
'Brains'.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
In the 48 hours following Mum's passing in
December 2010, I received a series of warmly
appreciated condolence messages from
virtually everyone I worked with, the notable
exception being the Area Manager, my
immediate boss. I heard nothing from him for
5 days. When he finally called, he offered no
words of consolation and merely attempted to
get me to commit there and then to a return
to work date. He also informed me that I
wouldn't be returning to my own store, but
was required to take over a new unit that had
opened during my sabbatical.
In spite of a general unease about life in
the corporate sector after so long in small
business, I worked hard and diligently for
the company because a) I had debts to pay off
and b) If I take something on, I don't
believe in giving half measure. I worked very
long hours, rarely got my allotted two days
off per week and never once in ten years came
close to using my full annual holiday
entitlement - as a salaried employee, these
were 'use it or lose it' elements of my
contract, with no overtime payment option.
I'm not complaining. For much of the time I
enjoyed the challenges of the job - no two
days were ever the same, that's for sure. But I
was now at my lowest ebb and it was
only by the grace of Mrs S's steadying
presence that I was able to function at all.
I had hoped for at least a little compassion. Business is business though.
A man on the move, 2011.
I took a good look at myself - the distance
I'd travelled, the amount I'd stretched my
own abilities and the success I'd achieved
within the company, culminating in being
named brand Manager of the year in 2010. I was nearly
51. Was I really in any state to dive back in
and run myself ragged all over again? My
sabbatical, Mum's passing and now the conversation with my boss had given me perspective. In January 2011, I handed
in my notice.
Mrs S and I had been considering a move
before Mum's health issues put all plans on
hold. In the Spring of 2011, after we'd finished
clearing Mum's house, we tentatively started
looking for a new place to live.
--------------------
Death Cab For Cutie are one of those bands
that only turn up once in my collection. The
album in question is 'Codes and Keys' from
2011. I like this record a lot, but for some
reason I've not yet checked out very much
more of their output. The brilliant 'You Are
a Tourist' was a favourite in the house all
year. This official video for the song is the
first ever live, scripted, one-take music
video shoot.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
In 2010 I hit 50. It was a year that began
with an unexpected work related triumph and
ended in deep personal sadness. In the
Spring, at the company's annual conference, I
was named store manager of the year, in front
of 3000 of my peers. The award was a complete
shock and came with a significant financial
reward. On the day, though grateful, my mind was elsewhere. After Christmas 2009,
Mum's condition had deteriorated sharply. Up
to then she'd still been quite active, but
now she couldn't walk more than a few steps
and was unable to leave the house unaided.
Her medication was no longer keeping her
illness under control.
Mum encouraging me to take my first steps in 1961.
I applied for a period of unpaid leave from
work, which was eventually granted, and spent the next 6 months staying with Mum for
4 or 5 days a week, while professional care was given by daily visits from District Nurses. I bought a collapsible
wheelchair that I could throw in the back of
the car and, when she felt up to it, took her
out for country drives, trips to the coast and pub lunches. Throughout this period her
health waxed and waned and she spent a number
of short spells in hospital, 'to recharge the batteries'. It was a
privilege and joy to be able to share so
much time with Mum during those months and when she passed away in
December, the grief was, and is,
exceptionally crushing.
-----------------
My
most prominent musical memory of
2010 is from Friday June 25th, when
Mark E.Smith strolled onstage at Glastonbury,
wearing one glove, to join Damon Albarn, half
The Clash and the rest of The Gorillaz for a
storming, glamtastic, 'Glitter Freeze' from
the 'Plastic Beach' LP. It's just perfect, from Mick Jones' welcoming, '..alright
Mark?', onwards. The only thing missing from
the performance is MES's classic spoken intro
to the studio version of the song - 'Where's
North from 'ere?'.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
My Cousin and I, both only children, grew up
in the same house in Walthamstow from her
birth in 1963 until the mid-1970's, her
family lived upstairs and mine downstairs.
Over the intervening years we've remained as
close as brother and sister. Since the late
1980's she's lived in New York where she and
her husband now have three fantastic kids of
their own.
Our local, when we're in New York.
Each Summer the New York contingent of the
family come over for a couple of weeks to
visit my Cousin's Mother, who's now in her
mid-80's. In 2009 they spent a week of their
stay at Centre Parcs and invited my Mum along
to share their holiday. Mum had a great time,
still in relatively good health and was
clearly invigorated by spending time with the
kids.
Road trip. Driving out over Brooklyn Bridge.
In October of 2009 Mrs S and I took ourselves
off to New York once again, to catch up with
the family on their own patch. I'd finally
cleared all of my record shop debt over the
previous couple of years and our belts
weren't quite so tight. The pressure
for continued financial growth at work was
immense though. The company expanded at an alarming rate, results were everything - and
needed to be achieved by whatever means
necessary. I could do the job and do it quite
well, but I was increasingly uncomfortable in the corporate world.
Manhattan from the road.
While in New York, Mrs S and I caught several
concerts, but were frustrated to note that
Vic Chesnutt was playing the Bowery Ballroom
on October 26th, the night we were due to fly
home. We'd seen Vic live a couple of times on
previous visits, though this time he was
touring on the back of his new LP, 'At the
Cut', with a fine band comprising members of
Thee Silver Mt. Zion and Godspeed You! Black
Emperor. I hoped for snow so that our
departure might be delayed and allow us to
attend, but we flew out, as planned, on a
mild clear evening. Maybe we'll catch him
again next time, I thought.
Tribeca.
'At the Cut' is an intense piece of work,
dark and raw, nowhere more so than on
'Flirted with You All My Life', a song only
matched by Nick Drake's 'Black Eyed Dog' in
terms of its utter bleakness. Tragically, there would be
no next time to see Vic Chesnutt. He took his
own life two months later, on Christmas Day
2009.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
Mum showed remarkable resilience after losing
Dad in 2007. Her broken hip recovered well
and she kept herself very busy. She'd always
been the outgoing one and now threw herself
into voluntary work in the WRVS cafe at the
local hospital and at a couple of charity
shops in town. She also built on strong
friendships with several near neighbours. I
kept Dad's car and drove down to stay with
her at every opportunity, taking her shopping
once a week and to the hospital once a month,
for a consultation with a Myeloma specialist.
Outwardly she was coping well with being
alone after over 50 years of marriage, though
an Aunt let it slip that Mum had mentioned
that she found the deafening silence in the house very
difficult to adjust to. Dad had always been a
very noisy man! He sang, whistled, drummed
and generally crash, bashed and walloped his
way through life. Mrs S will be happy to
vouchsafe that his son is following in his
Father's noisy footsteps!
Unshaven scruff. 2008.
I was busy too. I'd been given yet another
coffee shop branch to open (this one on a
trading estate) with another newly
recruited team. On my many drives to and from
Ipswich to visit Mum, I listened to a lot of
spoken word - audio books, comedy, Radio 4. On the
rare occasions that I actually played music, it was
usually a Minimal Techno compilation. 'Enfants' by Ricardo Villalobos is minimalism taken to the Nth degree and the
perfect tune to take out on the road when
your brain is full to overflowing. The looped
sample is taken from Christian Vander's 1995
choral reworking of Magma's 1973 prog-rock
classic, 'Mëkanïk Dëstruktïẁ Kömmandöh'. This one won't be for everybody.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
When Dad's car failed its MOT at the end of
2006, the garage told him that it was beyond
repair and, after a few months cogitation, he
bought a tiny second hand Daewoo Matitz to
replace it. He was initially reluctant buy another car at all, finding driving increasingly
tiring, but at 76, unable to walk more than a
few steps and too stubborn to entertain the
idea of a motability scooter, a car was the
only way he could leave the house and go
anywhere with Mum, who had never learned to
drive.
Mum & Dad in 1953, two years before they were married.
One afternoon in May of 2007, after Dad had
pulled up in front of their house, Mum
started to get out of the car, but caught her
foot in the seat belt and rolled, rather than
fell, onto the grass. It was a drop of around
nine inches, but enough to break her hip.
Until this point Mum had been a very active 73 year old. As a result of
standard tests before her hip surgery, it was
discovered that Mum had Myeloma, failing
kidneys and a weak heart. Serious problems,
but manageable with medication, at least in the short term. Dad nursed Mum with great
tenderness as she convalesced after her hip operation, which was difficult for him given
his own poor mobility. He did his best to
hide it, but I could see that he was really
shaken by her accident and subsequent
diagnosis. By the November of that year,
however, she was recuperating well and was walking again with the aid of a
stick.
Riding a miniature railway. 1964
I was alone at work on the evening of
November 25th, cashing up at the end of a
hectic day in the coffee shop, when I got a call from Mum's
mobile phone. The line was very poor and it
took her several attempts to make me
understand what she was saying. Dad had been
taken ill. She was with him at Ipswich Hospital. Come quickly. Then we lost the
line. I was 45 miles away and didn't own a
car. I threw the takings into the safe and
headed to the train station, arriving just as a
train was pulling out. It was a 30 minute
wait until the next one. 45 minutes later my
phone rang again. It was Mum, the line even
worse than before. She was in the back of an ambulance.
Dad was being taken to Colchester Hospital, a
further 20 miles away. I heard the siren wailing in the background, then we lost the line again.
Their last holiday. Cromer 2005
I left the train at Ipswich and got a taxi
across town to pick up Dad's car from outside
my parents' house, then drove on to
Colchester. Throughout the train journey I'd
been trying to get hold of Mum again with no
joy. I tried and failed once more when I reached the car park at Colchester
Hospital. It had been nearly two hours since
I'd spoken to her and I had no idea where in
the hospital she and Dad were. The staff
at reception couldn't locate them at first
either, but were very helpful and phoned around various parts of the hospital for me. Finally an orderly called me
over and asked me to follow her. She ran off
quickly, which alarmed me, and I struggled to
keep pace. We ran down corridors and up
stairs - I'd never been inside Colchester
Hospital before and was completely lost. She
suddenly stopped running and opened an
unmarked door. Inside was a tiny room where
Mum sat in the corner cradling a cup of tea,
a nurse at her side. Mum looked up as I
entered the room. She was pale, wore a blank
expression and seemed terribly, terribly
small. She was in shock. As I stood in the
doorway, catching my breath and looking at Mum in a state of confusion, another nurse, standing to my right, put her hand on my shoulder. '.....I'm very sorry.....' she said, '.....we lost him
10 minutes ago.....' I was too late. Dad was gone.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of my life...so far.
In late 2005 I was shunted from my comfy nook in the bookshop to open a new coffee shop branch, situated within the walls of a soulless shopping centre. I recruited a brand new young team for the job, all of whom wanted Radio 1 on in the staff room - Radio 1! I hadn't listened to daytime Radio 1 since...., well since I was their age! It was awful! I initially considered gouging my eardrums out with a rusty spoon to alleviate the tedium, but over time I eventually managed to relegate the majority of the aural wallpaper to the background of my consciousness.
Taken by my Cousin's 6 year old Daughter. 2006.
A Radio 1 programme that I did actually quite enjoy and which was the soundtrack to our late close every Friday evening, was Pete Tong's Essential Selection. Tong was no John Peel, but after the daytime drivel I'd been subjected to for hours on end, some of the tunes he played sounded positively cutting edge. Occasionally, Tong would spin a genuine cutting edge selection. One Friday evening in 2006 for example, he introduced me to 'Simpler' by Pete Heller, a minimal prog-house classic that still gets me dancing in my head every time I hear it. Mind you, if you think this is minimal, wait til you hear what's coming up in 2008.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of my life...so far.
Something I obviously never experienced during my years working in record shops was corporate jargon, though as a store Manager in a rapidly expanding coffee business, I quickly found myself bombarded from above by all manner of meaningless mumbo-jumbo. This was a company where every thought was encouraged to be of the blue sky variety, wages were ring-fenced, conversations car-parked, staff incentivised, meetings facilitated, changes action-planned, information cascaded, coffees up-sold and cakes on-sold. Goals were achievable, stretch targets attainable, but progression was, ultimately, glass-ceilinged. Oh, and woe betide any person caught thinking inside the box.
------------------------------
I've been a fan of The Sea and Cake for a very long time, but my absolute favourite Sea and Cake related LP is 2005's 'Who's Your New Professor', nominally a solo album by Sam Prekop, although ¾ of the band contributed towards its making. It's a platter that matters here at Swede Towers.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
Though it might initially appear an
extravagance, a trip to see my cousin and her
family in New York worked out to be far more
affordable than a holiday in the UK. I was in
the fortunate position of being able to pick
and choose travel dates to ensure the
cheapest combination of flights and when I
arrived in Manhattan, I ate with the family
and slept in their spare room - free bed and
board!
On a one-man mission to eat all the snacks in my Cousin's apartment. 2004.
My main indulgence while in the Big Apple
was, not surprisingly, music. There are
always so many gigs going on - and all in
such close proximity. Also, at that time
there were still a lot of great record stores
in town, all of which had cheapie bins to
lose hours rummaging through. My general rule
of thumb was to not spend more than $1.99 on
a CD. Though I'm sad to note that it has
since closed down, Bleeker Bob's was never
one of my favourite stores, the staff were
legendarily surly. That being said, while
wading through a pile of dusty cardboard
boxes in a darkened corner of Bob's during my
2004 trip, I did unearth a promo copy of 'The
CBC Sessions' by The Hidden Cameras for the
princely sum of 89c!. My kinda price.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
On moving to Norfolk in 2002 I met Mrs S,
though at the time we were both otherwise
attached and it would be another three years
until we became anything more than just
chums. We began exchanging music tips almost
immediately though. The brooding 'Down Below
Him' by Chicago's Low Skies was one of the
first tunes she pushed my way.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
In January 2002, after 18 months with the
coffee company (and in a echo of my first
record shop job in 1981) I was offered the
opportunity to manage my own store in
Norfolk. The branch was located within a
bookstore, the perfect environment.
Occasionally, authors stopped in to sign
stock while on promotional jaunts, in some
cases hosting a reading and Q&A event in the
evening. If I was on shift, I'd be sure to
offer them a cuppa. Here I am with Our 'Enry.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
By the time my record shop closed in March
2000, I was in considerable debt. When asked,
I always say that I had 10 really good years
and 4 of increasingly swift decline. I should
have pulled the plug around 1997, but when
you're in the middle of it, you can't see the
wood for the trees. And you always think it's
going to get better.
In the Summer of 2000 I managed to secure
employment in a newly opening branch of a
modest sized national coffee shop chain. (15
years later, the same company is now a
massive global brand.) As some regular
readers might be aware, I am something of a
coffee nerd and while my new employer's
particular blend is nothing to write home
about, I was really looking forward to working as a
regular team member, able to leave work at
the end of every day with no stress or
worries. It lasted three days. The store's Manager walked out mid-shift, never to return
and, purely because of my age, I was asked to
take responsibility for the store (and ten
staff) until a replacement could be found. I
knew nothing about the company, ordering
procedures, rotas or budgetary constraints.
I'd barely even learned how to make a cup of
coffee, but somehow I struggled through for a
few weeks until a new Manager was recruited.
New York, October 2001.
After the uncertainties of the latter years of
my business, it was a joy to receive a weekly
pay packet and have a regular holiday
allowance. I had debts to repay, but, with
careful budgeting, I planned a trip to see my
cousin and her family in Manhattan at the end of October, coinciding with a couple of Bob Dylan gigs. One
morning, on the way to work, I stopped off in
our local Lunn Poly travel agents to book the
ticket for my flight to New York. The date was September
10th 2001.
------------------
Halifax Pier formed in Kentucky in 1998 and,
by some accounts, are still musically active,
though the last recordings I have by them
date back to 2001. 'Lightly Noise' is from
their second (and last?) LP titled 'Put Your
Gloves On and Wave'. If I made you a CD,
Minidisc or Cassette compilation at any point
in the early noughties, this tune would've
been on it.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
Dad drops by to see if there's any Frank Sinatra records in the sale!
Making the decision was by far the hardest thing. A
friend who was with me, swore that she
actually saw a weight visibly lift from my
shoulders when I said the words out loud for
the first time - I'm closing the shop. I
informed my landlord, accountant and bank
manager who were all incredibly supportive.
At the end of trading a few days later, I
removed the Oasis, 'Standing on the Shoulder
of Giants', window display and replaced it
with three words, each letter printed on an
A4 sheet of paper for maximum impact -
Closing Down Sale.
The photo from my last piece of local press, under the headline, 'End of the Road for Mr Music'.
Over the next few days I was genuinely
overwhelmed by the number of kind comments,
phone calls and good luck messages I recieved
from customers old and new, some of whom no
longer even lived in the town, but had
shopped with me in the past and had somehow
heard the news. Three pieces were written
about the shop in the press and I was also
interviewed on local radio. A chap of a
similar age to me, with whom I'd only
recently been discussing our mutual love of
red wine, came in on the Friday afternoon and
handed me a bottle. 'I've been saving this
for a very long time' he said, 'but I want
you to have it, with my best wishes for your
future'. It was a 40 year old bottle of
Rioja. I eventually opened it a year later
and it remains the finest wine I've ever
tasted.
Behind the counter, or where it used to be, after everything was gone. I spent 14 years of my life in that little space.
On the evening of Saturday March 25th, after
a hectic and emotional week, I closed the
door for the last time and sat in the
old place in silence. The following morning,
I started dismantling the racks, boxing up
the stock and generally stripping the place
bare. It took the best part of a week to
complete the task. I'd been 26 years of age when
I started the business and now I was three
weeks short of my 40th birthday. 14 years,
gone in a flash. It didn't seem possible.
55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of
my life...so far.
Promotional bits and bobs. The ridiculous amounts of stuff that record companies gave away. Quite apart from advance copies
of singles and albums, in my time I was given bottle
openers, pens, writing pads, bottles of
plonk, hip-flasks, towels, cameras, denim
jackets, cuddly toys, mugs, tea-pots, mouse-mats, baseball jackets, hats, sunglasses,
presentation discs, concert tickets, hundreds of t-shirts,
thousands of posters and many more strange
and unconnected things that were used to plug the
latest releases. Most of these items would
come decorated in the band's logo or a sleeve
design and the majority of them I would give
away to genuine fans of the bands in
question, as a thank-you for their custom. I often wonder how many of those freebies
subsequently found their way onto eBay, when
they were discovered at the back of a cupboard, years later.
1999 was my last full year of trading. HMV
and Virgin were busy undercutting each other,
supermarkets were selling CD's for less than
cost price and a new phenomenon called file
sharing was beginning to take hold. It was a
very stressful time. No-one knew the full
extent of the financial hole I was in, other than my
accountant and bank manager and they were both pleading with me to throw in the towel. As midnight approached on December 31st, I took a walk along the prom, which was buzzing with people who were out and about to usher in the new millennium. I left the crowds behind and wandered to the quieter end of the beach and looked out into the darkness as the waves crashed in. I still hoped for a miracle, but in my gut I knew that the game was up.
-----------------------------------------
In 1999, ace UK post-rockers Fridge briefly
signed to Go! Beat Records, who released
the band's third album, 'Eph', as well as a couple of
EP's. Kieran Hebden of Fridge
later found great success trading as Four Tet. From
the 'Of' EP, this is the fantastic 'Remix'.
('Remix' was nowhere to be found online, so
this is my first attempt at using Box. Please
let me know if I've uploaded this incorrectly!)
Something I obviously never experienced during my years working in record shops was corporate jargon, though as a store Manager in a rapidly expanding coffee business, I quickly found myself bombarded from above by all manner of meaningless mumbo-jumbo. This was a company where every thought was encouraged to be of the blue sky variety, wages were ring-fenced, conversations car-parked, staff incentivised, meetings facilitated, changes action-planned, information cascaded, coffees up-sold and cakes on-sold. Goals were achievable, stretch targets attainable, but progression was, ultimately, glass-ceilinged. Oh, and woe betide any person caught thinking inside the box.
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