| |
| At 2.47 we see the only onscreen appearance, as far as I'm aware, of one of my Grandad's fleet, quite probably with the great man himself behind the wheel, shot by Lindsay Anderson in 1953. http://www.screen.busesonscreen.net/screen1/index.php?p=screenfm.fmo.odreamlandWhen I was little I used to go on the trips myself with Grandad, sitting in the front of the coach whilst he did a running commentary over the coach P.A. system for the benefit of the day trippers. The Wikipedia write up for the film itself is quite accurate: 'Gavin Lambert, a key supporter of the Free Cinema movement, said of the film "Everything is ugly... It is almost too much. The nightmare is redeemed by the point of view, which, for all the unsparing candid camerawork and the harsh, inelegant photography, is emphatically humane. Pity, sadness, even poetry is infused into this drearily tawdry, aimlessly hungry world."' Update: Having spoken to my Mum about this - she says it's quite likely she was on the bus with my Grandmother as well - these were bank holiday outings and they usually went with Grandad and a busload of merry makers. | |
|
| 
Ben threw of his regular record fairs at Guildford today. He was joined by two celebs (well they are to me). On the left we have Geoff Birch, the railway author, who was once a fireman at Guildford Engine Shed, which closed in July 1967. On the right is Pat Kinsella, who was a driver at Guildford and is full of great stories of steam etc.
Ben got me Geoff's brilliant book for my birthday and I've scarcely had my nose out of it.
| |
|
|
Performed by The Bunkers, 1996.
I wrote this song in 1995/1996, based on a photo I saw in a book about the last days of Steam in London. The photo, taken at Vauxhall, I think, in June 1967 was of a cricket match going on in the foreground with a 'Merchant Navy' in the background with a large train heading for Bournemouth, with the sun reflecting on the windows. Sadly I don't have a copy of this picture now, but the discovery of a fantastic (anonymous) cache of pictures taken at this time on Flickr a couple of years ago gave me the mission of trying to put together a video for the song. The poster of the photos has cribbed some of them from the 'Up The Junction' movie and other sources, but a lot of them just appear to be everyday street scenes.
It's just an attempt to capture a point in history. Sir John Barbarolli really was recording at this point (RVW's 'London Symphony'), and of course there was indeed incense in the air and revolution on the page.
Recording features myself on acoustic guitar and vocals, Justin Makin on lead guitar, and Ben Darnton on drums. Recorded November 1996.
| |
|
| Today would have been Laura Nyro's 64th birthday. Here's a film with clips I've never before seen of her. I should really write a whole 'heroes' page on Laura. I first heard her music after buying her doo-wop/girl group covers set 'Gonna Take A Miracle' in 1989 (the opening one-two of 'I Met Him On A Sunday' and 'The Bells' was enough). I was swept away by that album (it may well be the easiest way into her music) and scoured the import shops for her albums. Both the 1968 'Eli And The Thirteenth Confession' set and 1969's magnificent, bleak, 'New York Tendaberry' are five star masterpieces. The the case of the harrowing 'New York Tendaberry it's one of the best five records of all time and should get six stars, let alone five. ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=88.8) bisonfish, culverdown and myself were lucky enough to see her second and final concert, at the Union Chapel, Islington, in 1993 (the first one being in 1971). Laura wasn't in great shape then (she passed away of ovarian cancer, aged 48, in 1998), but that concert left the ground. She was a master on the same level as anyone I can think of, including Miles Davis, who was a great admirer of her and her music. | |
|
|
The new guitar guy, Shane Fontayne (not his real name), sure can play this stuff.
Was there ever a truer song. This, 'Blackbird' and 'Cowboy Movie' only appeared at the end of the tour.
| |
|
| I've been scanning up the family archives again for my cousin Victoria - I have many more shots of her Dad than she does. Went right through the Sweeney photo book today, and this very non-descript shot of a coach receiving attention is in there:  This has to be war-time as the car on the left has black-out covers on the headlights.  Either way, it's what's on the back that's far more interesting, it's a set list in Grandad's scrawl: Dancing Time Birth Of The Blues Margie For Me And My Girl Swing On A Star Stage Door Canteen (break) Follow The Band Old Bull And Bush I'll Be Your Sweetheart Daisy Daisy Ain't Got A Barrel Of Money [aka Side By Side]Beer Barrel Polka [aka Roll Out The Barrel]I bet it was a good night. Grandad was probably on string bass or piano. Quite possibly my Grandmother was the singer. | |
|
| You Tube appears to be positively overflowing with early Soft Machine footage. You'd never believe this stuff existed. This is October 1967, and yet again, they're on French TV. Warning: not easy listening.
The Floyd were a much bigger band at this point, with hit singles etc., but there is precious little quality footage of them at this time, as they were mostly operative in the UK, where the BBC had yet to move into the realms of colour (or, indeed, allow too much of this extreme noise to blow out the airwaves).
They are actually performing the second half of the epochal 'Hope For Happiness'. Kevin Ayres wasn't as barking as he appears to be in this clip. | |
|
|  Bert Jansch 1943-2011. | |
|
|  70 years old today. Seen just about to take off for a slap-up supper earlier this evening. Left to right: Auntie Pauline, Uncle Jim (Mum's little brother), Mum and Dad. | |
|
|
