My mate and I have been going to FolkEast for several years now and, creatures of habit that we are, we always pitch our tents next to each other in the same location, backed right up against a wire fence, facing out across the sea of canvas and campervans. It's a good spot to be in, on the very edge of the site a decent walk from the hustle and bustle of the arena, within reasonable staggering distance of a block of toilets and showers, but far enough away from them that we aren't affected by the inevitable occasional queues and smells. When we arrived on site last Thursday afternoon, on a whim I suggested that we pitch in the usual place, but facing the other way for a change. I don't quite know why it's taken all these years for one of us to make what in retrospect seems such a glaringly obvious suggestion, but the glorious view that greeted us as we crawled, bleary-eyed, from our respective tents on Friday morning ensured that we'll never pitch facing into the camping site again.
Much to my astonishment, the moment lockdown began easing, my estate agent called to arrange viewing appointments for Swede Towers. I'd naively assumed that the last thing anyone would want to do would be to walk around a house that had been occupied throughout the whole period, but I was wrong and in the first couple of weeks I welcomed over a dozen masked and sanitised visitors into my home. It's a quirky place as I've mentioned before and so not suitable for everyone, but in due course an offer came in. It was substantially lower than I'd hoped for, though generally realistic given the age and condition of the place. Long story short, I accepted the offer and immediately went out and found a new gaff for myself. All that was a couple of months ago and, while the legal machinations rumble on, I've been steadily packing my life into cardboard boxes ever since. It's easy to get distracted from the endless endeavour, as I did the other day when rifling through the hundreds of old anonymous photos I still appear to possess, in spite of several, supposedly thorough, clear-outs. It's easy to see why I kept this one though - both amusing and slightly unsettling at the same time.
The appropriately titled soundtrack is provided by a sweet tune on the Bangarang rythm courtesy of the mighty King Tubby & the Aggrovators, which originally appeared as the flipside of Derrick Morgan's 1975 single 'The Original Watering Man'.
King Tubby And The Aggrovators - Straight To The Copycat Head
Last week was a hot one. Throughout most of Wednesday, as temperatures soared through the 30° mark, I hunkered down indoors with the curtains closed - it was just too much for me. In the evening though, all hell broke loose in the form of a brief, but very violent thunderstorm, which left the air blissfully cool when it had passed. As the storm raged (and did it ever rage) I stood at the window firing off ten shots at a time, trying to capture a photograph of a lightning bolt. It's a tricky business with a little point and press camera, but my patience was rewarded with these two consecutive shots (click on them to enlarge).
The Aggrovators were one of the great session bands of reggae's golden age, working extensively with producer Bunny Lee throughout the 1970s and 1980s. The band practised something of a revolving door policy, with legends such as Robbie Shakespeare, Sly Dunbar, Jackie Mittoo and Tommy McCook all passing through the ranks at one time or another. 44 of The Aggrovators' dubs, mixed by the late King Tubby, have recently been compiled by VP Records as 'Dubbing at King Tubby's'. Here, from that collection, is the appropriately titled 'Thunder Rock', which was originally released in 1976 on the flipside of Cornell Campbell's 'Have Mercy Oh Jah'.
One evening, when I was 12, I persuaded
Mum to put my long, thick, straight hair in curlers.
I've always hated my shapeless hair and, for
a couple of hours at least, it was fun to see
it tumbling in Bolanesque corkscrews. The
following morning, of course, it had dropped back to boring, straight normality. It's hard to believe that
Dad didn't grab his camera and record the
event.
Much as I disliked my boring Barnet, having
it cut was the worst. Dad first took me to
the local barber's shop when I was four. I was
plonked on a plank resting across the arms of
the chair and told to sit dead still while
the barber clipped and buzzed around my
bonce. It was easier said than done. I
twitched and I squirmed, particularly when he
got anywhere my right ear, which for some
reason set off a convulsion down my spine,
leading to stern looks from the barber and a
stern word from Dad. My left ear was fine,
but that right ear always seemed ultra-sensitive to the slightest noise and it was
only years later that I learned to control my
involuntary reaction.
When the family relocated to Ipswich in 1975,
I cast around my new classmates for a
recommended local barber. 'Go and see Kenny,'
someone suggested, 'Kenny Cuff the dancing
barber'. It sounded unlikely, but was
actually true. Instead of ambling around the chair while he snipped and trimmed,
like your average barber does, Kenny
performed a continuous soft shoe shuffle as
he worked and was something of a local
legend. His salon was a meeting place for a
handful of old retired Suffolk gents, who rarely
seemed to get their hair cut, but treated the
place as a hang-out, smoking cigarettes and drinking endless cups of tea all day. They all thought my
London accent was a hoot and good-naturedly
sent me up something rotten throughout every
visit, especially whenever I twitched as Kenny
clicked his scissors close to my right ear.
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Here's the late great Mikey Dread with what's
probably his best known tune, 1977's 'Barber
Saloon'. The uploader has also kindly included the
dub version, 'Lagga the Barber', featuring
King Tubby at the controls.
When a mash-up works it can be utterly inspired and this is one such occasion. Take a slice of Richard Burton's narration of 'Under Milk Wood' and lay it over the 'Ali Baba' riddim and this is the spine-tingling result.
