Communication Breakdown

Apologies to fellow bloggers through whose pages I usually meander, but my laptop has unexpectedly taken a vow of silence and so I'm temporarily unable to listen to any of the tunes posted therein. I'm not tech savvy, so I don't know if it's the speakers that are at fault, the soundcard or, most likely of all, something stupid I've done, but hopefully I'll get it sorted before the weekend and be back catching up on missed posts and leaving my usual witty, incisive comments before you know it!

Meanwhile, this enforced period of radio silence is allowing me time to dig deep into my record & CD collections in a concerted effort to slim down the quantity and overall weight of my lifelong habit - floor space and ceiling strength being among our chief concerns at the moment.

Here's 'Strawberries Are Growing In My Garden (And It's Wintertime)' by The Dentists, a gently psychedelic pop gem from 1985 and a single that I wouldn't dream of parting with.

Siouxsie Sioux at 56

It's my age I know, but whenever Savages are played on 6Music (and with the recent release of their debut album, they've been played a lot) I turn to Mrs S and say...'this is a splendid racket, but it don't arf sound like Siouxsie & the Banshees in places...' Or words to that effect.

Today, however, to mark Siouxsie's 56th birthday, Tom Ravenscroft played a session version of the fantastic 'Placebo Effect' from 'Join Hands' by yer actual Banshees. It sounded magnificent coming out of the radio. To continue the celebrations, here's another corker from Bromley's finest.

Version City #11 - Mark Lanegan sings Gene Clark

A tweet from the venerable Sid Griffin, reminds me that May 24th 2013 was not only the 72nd birthday of Bob Dylan, but also the 22nd anniversary of Gene Clark's death. In his tweet, Sid also mentions 'Some Misunderstanding', a sublime song from Gene's masterpiece, 1974's 'No Other', which in turn got me thinking about a terrific interpretation of that song by Soulsavers, fronted by Mark Lanegan. Soulsavers have released four long-players to date, two of which feature Lanegan extensively - 2007's 'It's Not How Far You Fall, It's the Way You Land' and 2009's 'Broken', from where this version is taken.

Happy Birthday Bob!

Whether it's your 1st Bob Dylan concert or your 1001st, the chances are that by the time you enter the venue, you'll have a wish-list of songs you'd like to hear performed that night. It might be a great version of a favourite 'classic' from his catalogue that you're hoping for, or perhaps your fingers are crossed for a dusted off obscurity or rarely played gem. I, like many, have a wish-list of unlikely suspects as long as my arm - 'Dirt Road Blues' and 'New Pony' have been fairly high on it for years.

If we're talking unlikely scenarios, however, how about this? Bob and the band stand to receive their applause after the concluding blast of 'Thin Man', 'Watchtower' or 'Rolling Stone' and begin to file off the stage. Bob pauses, walks back to his keyboard and, alone in the spotlight, digs deep and gives us this.

Ah well, a man can dream can't he?

Many happy returns of the day Bob.

Kinky Friedman

Kinky Friedman is an author, humanitarian, tequila baron, gubernatorial candidate, irreverent raconteur, Peace Corps veteran, cigar smoker, animal rescuer, country singer, fellow coffee lover and a man who can count among his friends such luminaries as Bill Clinton, Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson and (slightly unfathomably) George W Bush. 

I'm currently engaged on a project that I've been meaning to undertake for several years, namely to re-read all 19 of Kinky's mystery novels in sequential order. In all but one of these, the star of the tale is a fictionalised version of the Kinkster himself, aided and abetted by the Village Irregulars, characters based on a loose group of his real-life friends and acquaintances. The books are engaging, laugh-out-loud funny and extremely moving. Kinky has the enviable talent of having the reader sniggering on one page, before bringing them up short on the next, with a touching one-sided conversation with his cat or a real-life memory of a loved one who has been 'bugeled to Jesus'.

Some Texan advice from the Kinkster

In 2003 I attended a book reading by the Kinkster in New York, where he was launching 'Kill Two Birds and Get Stoned', the one novel in which his own character is not featured, although the narrator's voice is still very much Kinky's. After the event I was lucky enough to meet the man himself, along with his fictional sidekick, real-life friend and fellow author, Larry 'Ratso' Sloman.

A couple of weeks ago I renewed my acquaintance with The Kinkster, when I caught a great show on his solo UK tour. Kinky effectively abandoned songwriting at the end of the 1970's, but still takes his songs out on the road from time to time and bolstered with readings, wry observations and the occasional wince-inducing joke it makes for a hugely entertaining evening.

Leading with the campaign slogan 'Why the Hell Not?', Friedman unsuccessfully ran for the office of Governor of Texas in 2006 and is currently gearing up for another run at the post. Meanwhile 'Kill Two Birds and Get Stoned' is being developed as a potential movie and, excitingly, rumour has it that a new Kinky Friedman mystery novel is on the horizon - the first since he killed his fictional self off in 2005's 'Ten Little New Yorkers'! And me? I'm currently re-reading 1989's 'Frequent Flyer', book 4 out of 19. A long way to go, but enjoying every minute.

Smiley Smile

Technology, in the right hands, can sometimes provide such innocent fun.

Steve Martland

Towards the end of the 1980's, Factory Records launched a classical music label with a handful of albums, which I dutifully stocked in my shop in order to support this interesting venture. Among the initial batch was an album by the, then, 30 year old English composer Steve Martland. I immediately found Martland's music recognisable and understandable to my predominantly rock mindset and went on to purchase a number of his subsequent releases.

Listening to the radio yesterday afternoon, it came as something of a jolt to learn in passing that Steve Martland died in his sleep last week, at the age of just 53. I immediately reached for a couple of those early albums and was gratified to hear that they remain as vibrant and powerful as ever.