Moon Duo

Five days after sharing a second massive 2016 Bruce Springsteen gig with 80,000 fellow revellers at Wembley Stadium, I joined just a couple of hundred like-minded souls in the intimate surroundings of the Norwich Art Centre, for a long awaited date with Moon Duo. The Duo is now technically a trio, with the addition of excellent live drummer John Jeffrey, who adds welcome flesh, bone and muscle to the previously programmed drum patterns. I've liked Moon Duo's music for a long time and really feel that the addition of Jeffrey is savvy move, allowing Sanae and Ripley the freedom to stretch, manipulate and extend each fuzzy, effects-laden riff for exactly as long as they please. The three of them locked-in tight from the very first moment of the 90 minute set and didn't let up. The light show deserves a mention too - it was pretty wild and reinforced the early Velvet Underground vibe that hung over several of the tunes. Sadly, there's no light show to accompany this live performance of 'Wilding', but hopefully you'll get the musical gist.

Moon Duo and the Art of Psychedelic Skating

The clip for 'Animal', lead single from Moon Duo's soon-come new LP 'Shadow of the Sun', features pro-skateboarder (who knew there was such a thing?) Richie Jackson, indulging in a little light 'psychedelic skating' - that's without a traditional board to you and me. I'm in no way qualified to comment on Mr Jackson's abilities, although he cuts a fine dash and does look a bit of a dude, but what I can say, without fear of contradiction, is that judging by this storming tune, Moon Duo's powers show no signs of diminishing.

Walking in Circles

Locally, there are a handful of circular walks to choose from, on road or off the beaten track, depending on what the weather decides to throw at me. Inspired by a recent post over at Sun Dried Sparrows (here), I took my battered old camera out one evening a couple of weeks ago, to record one such walk. At the other end of the year I tend to leave the house in the chill of the early morning, but round about now, I head off after dinner. This particular walk takes me down the lane for a mile or so, before returning along the winding riverside path and then back across the marsh. To get the very best out of it, timing is crucial.

It's time to head out. The sun is low and there's somewhere I want to be when it sets.

 Three years ago, before we came to view the house that we eventually bought, we put the postcode into Google Street View to take a look at the area and this rundown cottage a couple of hundred yards away was the first thing that appeared on our laptop screen. I think it's known in the trade as a 'fixer upper'. It's been abandoned for over 20 years and has a crazy overgrown jungle of a garden, which will be great for wild berries in a couple of months. No time to dawdle though, I'm losing the light.

  The lane is quiet and narrow, Before long, i'm in the tiny hamlet that lies between our village and the next. There are only about six houses here, all spectacular.

 A little further and a sign that sometimes disappears completely into the foliage, guides the way down steep muddy steps. 

 A narrow path winds through the gathering gloom and between the trees I get a first, brief, sighting of the river. High above, a cuckoo's call echoes around the canopy.

This section of the riverside path is wildly overgrown at the moment, those weeds are over six feet high, though suddenly I'm at the water's edge. See those ripples in the water on the far bank? A second earlier an otter was swimming quietly along, but it plopped out of sight as I raised the camera to capture it.

A 180° turn - and this is why i'm here. For a few precious weeks every year, the sun sets right down the middle of the river, as viewed from this spot. It takes my breath away and I never tire of watching or photographing it (here's one from last year). I'm actually a little later on the scene than I wanted to be, but still the colours change and deepen with every passing second.

Reluctantly turning my back on the glorious sunset, I press on along the river.

A few hundred yards further along the path, on slightly higher ground, I glance over my shoulder for one last glimpse of the sun, while overhead the moon sits high in the evening sky.

I pause again to watch as a kestrel hangs silently in the air, hunting for a meal. Then, onwards.

This hidden spot is the river's closest point to our house. From here, I'll head back towards home across the marsh. 

Turning away from the riverside path, I head down towards a fence and over a stile. A couple of nights after taking these photos, I stood at this fence in awe for over ten minutes watching a barn owl quartering directly in front of me. An absolutely majestic creature. Off in the distance, across the marsh, is the nearest town.

There's little remaining evidence that trains once passed through this remote stretch of countryside, other than the long abandoned railway bridge that stands as a silent memorial to those bygone days of steam. Ahead is the field familiar to every dog-walker in the village. There is no officially designated footpath across or around it, but for over 70 years the landowners have been happy to allow access to locals who are 'in the know'!

Here's the 'secret' entrance to the field - the narrowest of gaps. This is the marsh end of the lane that leads up alongside our house, a couple of hundred yards ahead. It looks bright, but it's actually getting very dark. Too dark to see if popular local character, the Little Owl, is bobbing about this evening. He's a funny little fella.
I've been out for about an hour. It must be time for a glass of wine.